He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You might want to remember emotions are loud around here.”
Her face flushed. Hervery specificthoughts were apparently on full display. Beth groaned and buried her face in his chest, trying to force her brain to think about the pub’s inventory orders.
But Gael’s quiet chuckle skimmed right under her skin, dragging her focus right back. He pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’d be happy to hear and fulfill anything that was on your mind.”
“You know we can also hear you, right?” Emma deadpanned.
Beth didn’t even look up.
Chapter 6
BETH HAD BEEN TO SOMEof the world’s most exclusive parties; she’d dined at Michelin-starred restaurants beside people whose names carried empires before she was out of school. Her last name had opened every door, taught her how to glide through conversations that meant nothing, laugh at jokes that weren’t funny, and flattered the egos of powerful men who wanted to own her like a rare wine.
She’d hated it even before realizing she hated it. None of it had ever been real; it was performance—sometimes for her father, who wanted her to reflect his legacy, and sometimes for potential suitors, selected for their ability to elevate the family name and fortune.
Leaving it all hadn’t been easy, but every tear she’d cried afterward, every stumbling step she’d taken toward a life of her own making, had been worth it. Especially at the end of a day like this, spent at a lake laughing about ridiculous things with people who saw her.
And one elf who made her feel something new and gloriously terrifying.
Now, standing outside her home, her keys jangling in one hand, she glanced at Gael as he stepped out of Elara’s Jeep behind her.
“Today was good,” she said, sudden nerves fluttering under her skin as she turned to face him.
“Exceptionally good,” he agreed. The violet in his eyes had almost swallowed the blue. “Will I see you soon?”
She chuckled, softer than before. “You’ll see me tomorrow at breakfast if you stop by the pub.”
He tilted his head, that intense focus of his squarely on her. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know.” The keys rotated through her fingers as she looked at him, really looked at him—divinely carved lips, wind-mussed hair, the way his stillness always felt like coiled motion. “You could stay for dinner. If you want. If you don’t have plans.”
His smile softened something in her stomach. “I’d love to, but I didn’t mean to push. You don’t have to invite me in just because I asked when I’d see you.”
“Oh, I know.” And man, the way he said that, like her comfort mattered more than what he wanted, only made the pull stronger. “I just... I want to. If you’re okay with something simple. I haven’t exactly grocery-shopped lately.”
“I can spend days without eating. I’m not here for the food,” he murmured, his voice dipping just enough to heat her skin. “Whatever dinner you pick sounds perfect.”
And from across the street, Elara’s voice rang out like a bell, “I’ll see you children in the morning. Have fun!”
Beth winced. “She heard everything, didn’t she?”
“She did.”
“Noisy elves,” she muttered, unlocking the door and stepping inside. Gael followed, quiet and watchful.
It wasn’t even dark yet, but she flipped the light switch anyway, illuminating the living room. She set her bag and phone down on the little table near the entry and turned back toward him.
“Have a seat,” she offered. “Want a drink? I’ve got orange juice, hard cider, and... that’s about it.”
“Cider’s perfect, thank you.”
It was strange how something so simple as him sitting in her kitchen felt both foreign and intimate. She wasn’t used to men being in her home. Especially not someone like him, who moved with regal ease even when relaxed. Who wieldedthatkind ofstrength and power without making her feel smaller. There was vulnerability in it, but not the kind that made her want to retreat.
It was the kind that made her want him. Desperately.
Not just because of the way he looked, though that alone was enough to make her pulse skip. It was the way he listened. How he considered every word before speaking. How he asked for nothing, making her want to give him everything.
Her fingers lingered on the chilled can of cider longer than necessary. She found a glass, poured the drink, and crossed the room to him. She should have handed it and stepped back to regroup, because heaven help her, she couldn’t do anything sensible with him sitting there, watchful, looking at her like she would be his, if she only said the word.
