But that would be doing the rest of the world, or at least the virtual one, a disservice. If this social media shite was important to her, the least she could do was showcase herself properly.
He decided that, if she wasn’t going to do that, he would wrestle it out of her. He gasped, pointing to the nearest tree. “Is that a wee pixie?”
She hopped up on her toes and shouted, “Where?” just as the camera shuttered. He beamed. Perfect. The last image showed the real Harper, mouth parted in a half-smile, face illuminated as she searched the foliage for something that didn’t exist.
Chuckling, he said, “I thought you didn’t believe in fairies.”
Her pout was nothing short of adorable, so he snapped that, too, until she covered her face. “Stop! I need anicepicture! You’re not taking your duties seriously.”
“Oh, shut it. I got plenty of nice pictures, see?” Just as he reached out to hand the phone back, the squeak of rubber soles against wet wood sliced between them.
It happened in slow motion. Her arms windmilled through the air as she stumbled back—
Phone still clenched in his hand, Fraser caught her, bearing her weight before she could topple off the stump entirely. “I’ve got you,” he whispered.
And he had. All of her. She looped her arms around his neck, breaths serrated enough to convey her surprise, as well as that split moment of terror that must have jolted through her before he’d steadied her.
“That was close,” she said, the smell of cocoa and spice lacing her breath. She was so near he could feel its heat fanning across his face, teasing him with how she might taste if he kissed her.
Would that be casual enough?
Did he care?
“And you wonder why I don’t want you walking in the woods alone,” he groused, gaze snagging on the soft pink of her cold nose, the depthless molten brown of her irises.
She giggled, using him as a crutch as she landed on solid ground again. The last dregs of her drink sloshed around in her cup, and she drained them as though unfazed. “You just wanted an excuse to feel me up.”
“Oh, aye. That’s what it was.”
His grin was unwavering as she snatched her phone and skipped away. Would he ever be able to catch up to her, or would she always be one step ahead of him? She was wittier than him. More complicated, yet somehow easier to read.
She was more than he could ever prepare himself for, and when she walked away, he could do nothing but follow.
So he did.
15
“Oh, wow. Look at these.” Harper bent down to admire the little wooden carvings scattered along the winding trail. Somebody had crafted a fairy house out of tree bark and moss, with a roof made of pinecones and tiny painted toadstools flanking either side of the grass-green door. “This is gorgeous. I wonder who made them!”
Whoever it was, they were talented. Wooden fairy figurines guarded the miniature house, with silver wings and bright clothes. One of them wore a green dress with blonde, shorn hair and rosy skin like an androgynous version of Tinkerbell. Another had a gorgeous brown complexion and wore an iridescent rainbow sari. On the other side of the trail, more guided the way, diverse in their styles. A pixie sitting in a moss-covered wheelchair made of twigs. A boy with silver piercings in his ears talking to a carved squirrel.
It only occurred to her then that all of the fairy ornaments she’d admired in antique shops had looked the same. White, slim women with long, flowing hair. She saw her own body type here, among so many others. Somebody had taken time to make these figurines look like real people.
Harper leaned back on her haunches, a flutter rising in her. She’d been wrong to dismiss this place. It was beautiful. Magical.
“The kids love playing with this stuff.” A sweet smile graced Fraser’s lips, as it did every time he talked about his family. Harper could very easily swoon over it, but she wouldn’t. It shouldn’t have been so groundbreaking, to see a big, strong man with a gentle heart. Her standards, it seemed, were lower than the ground her boots sank into.
“Shouldn’t they be kept out of reach? What if someone breaks them?” Harper snapped photographs, then twisted to take a selfie with the fairies for good measure.
Fraser evidently suppressed a smirk. “I think whoever made them wanted them to be enjoyed. New ones appear all the time. The artist is local.”
“You know them?”
“No. They stay anonymous. But this is the only place where they appear, so everybody reckons they must live close by.”
She whistled, and then indulged herself by opening the arched door of the fairy house. Inside, miniscule lights twinkled against the darkening afternoon. “I want to live here. It’s almost as big as your cabin.”
“And it matches your height perfectly,” he quipped, causing her to stick her tongue out at him. She wasn’tthatshort at five foot four, but his tall stature made her feel it.
