When I get past the bell’s rope, I see him standing over a small table where a large map is spread out and glowing.
“What in the world is that?” I ask.
Leafshire Cove is laid out in neat lines and curves, the ink shimmering like copper. A spot beyond the town walls glows a bright orange.
“This is a magical weather map that Rustion gave me yesterday. He ordered it from Tully…” He glances at me with a careful look as ifI might explode at the mention of my frenemy. When I just nod curtly, he continues. “But yes, he ordered it last month before he’d even interviewed me for this position.”
The map shimmers brightly again, the light increasing in intensity before dying back down.
“This storm isn’t too big, but I need to ring the bell. Do you think your home is secure enough since the last potion you applied?”
“Yes, it’ll be fine.”
Nodding, he turns and pulls the rope, the lines of his muscles showing in his arms and shoulders, and I say a silentthank youto his sleeveless tunic.
We watch as the townsfolk scurry about to secure their outdoor chairs, carts, and errant children. Magical map in hand, Rom leads me back inside, and the scent of toffee and salty crust fills my nose. My mouth begins to water.
“I can’t wait to taste our creations,” I say.
His forked tongue touches his bottom lip, and my breath hitches. He gestures to his one chair and sets the weather map on a stool near the end of the countertop.
“Would you like some gargoyle wine?” he asks.
I sit and nod. “I’ve never had it. What’s it like?”
He gets out two simple crockery cups and placesthem on the countertop next to our cooking mess. “It’s black in color. And we serve it cold.” He takes a pitcher from his icebox and raises it before pouring it into the cups. “It’s made with blackberries, sage, and grapes that only grow in the gargoyle homeland. I was surprised to find some at the market. Your spice trader said she picked it up on a coastal trip to get cinnamon.”
“Rychell is her name. I don’t know her well.” I never have enough money to buy her fancy spices and foreign goods.
Rom joins me in the sitting area and hands me a cup.
I take a sip, and a complicated, fruity taste explodes on my tongue. “Oh! This is delicious.”
He smiles, his eyes soft and so beautiful that they snare me, and I can’t seem to stop staring. He doesn’t break the look either, drinking his wine and gazing at me over the rim of his cup. His wings shift and spread a little wider. I want to ask him how it feels when I touch his wings. But I keep quiet.
Finally, he looks away, and the timer I set for the pie chimes.
“I’ll get it,” he says.
I reach for his cup, and he hands it over. He squats to remove the pie from the hearth’scooking alcove, and I can’t help but enjoy the way his trousers hug his backside and legs. Blessed Stones, but he is gorgeous. Then I realize that he forgot to put on some hand protection.
“Wait! Your hands!”
“I don’t need oven mitts.” Taking the pie to the counter, he continues. “Gargoyle skin is impenetrable.”
“Wow. Really?”
“He nods. Our bones are unbreakable, too. If you want to off one of us, you have to get pretty creative.”
I laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind if you step on my toes during the Harvest Party dancing.”
His wings shake slightly as he laughs. He returns with a plate for each of us. I get up and point to the chair.
“You sit here. I can perch on the arm. If that’s all right.” I place my wine on the floorboards beside the chair.
“You’re sure?” He sits his wine on the floor near the hearth.
“Definitely.” I point to the chair’s arm. “This is as big as the entirety of one of my chairs.”
