Page 31 of Must Love Scones and Secrets
“Spring Haven,” I said, referring to one of the pixie home cities. “It is a small village, almost all pixies, and dreadfully dull. To be honest, I couldn’t wait to leave.”
“Your family…”
“Mother only. My father died when I was very young. I still visit her sometimes. And you? Is all of your family in Frostfjord?” I asked carefully. The last time I’d brought up his family, he’d hesitated.
“Oh…yes,” he said with a hesitant smile. “Mother. Father. Three brothers and one sister.”
“Big family. Are you close?”
“Too close,” he said with a laugh. “Being here is like being able to breathe again.”
I laughed. “I know exactly what you mean. Pixies have their own ways of doing things, and I just wanted to live somewhere with more variety of thoughts and ways of being. I love Moonshine Hollow.”
“It is very different from Frostfjord as well. Everything here is more”—he paused and met my gaze—“charming.” Bjorn cleaned his throat. “Frostfjord is loud, cold, and so constricting. Here,” he said, then gestured to the fields. “It’s all light and warmth,” he added, looking back at me and giving me a soft smile.
In the distance, thunder rumbled once more.
Bjorn eyed the skyline. “Getting closer,” he said, looking at the dark clouds on the horizon. He turned back to his food once more, smiling as he ate.
I loved watching him pick through the bites I’d chosen for him. He left nothing aside, trying everything with a smile.
“I’m sure you must miss something. Maybe your girlfriend?” I asked, trying to keep as nonchalant a tone as possible.
“No girlfriend. I love all my siblings, but my sister Asa is most on my mind.” He turned and looked at Merry. “She made me promise I’d bring her back a caticorn kitten. Do you know of anyone who has them?”
“I do! Magnificent Meg, an ale witch who lives a bit outside of town, has a pair that had a litter of kittens several weeks ago. I’llinquire with her. And also ask if her caticorns are having glitter sneezes.”
“Thank you. I would hate to disappoint Asa.”
The sky rumbled once more. This time, Bjorn frowned, then stood and gazed at the sky.
Smoke, who had been trying to catch the brightly colored poppy gophers who kept popping their heads out of their holes to tease the firewolf, whined and then trotted back to Bjorn.
“Rosalyn,” Bjorn said, but he didn’t need to say more.
Several of the unicorns were looking up at the sky. The storm clouds that had been in the far distance only moments ago were moving with haste toward us, the wind blowing. On it, I smelled rain.
“Oh no,” I said, scooping Merry back up and putting him in his basket.
Bjorn moved quickly to help me gather my things. We had just put the last items into the picnic basket when the sky rumbled loudly, and thick clouds rolled in, letting loose their rain. At once, we found ourselves in a downpour.
“Come on,” Bjorn said with a laugh, taking the picnic basket from my hand so I could carry Merry. “This way. To the cabin.”
We hurried off, running across the field as the sky dumped buckets of water on us. In his basket, Merry meowed loudly in protest.
When the rain hit Smoke, his fur hissed, and plumes of steam rolled off him.
“I can’t fly in the rain,” I told Bjorn with a laugh. “And I’m a slow runner.”
Bjorn chuckled and kept pace with me as we finally made our way to the cabin. Bjorn pushed the door open and we rushed inside. We were both soaked through. Laughing, with rain running down our faces, we turned and looked at one another.
Bjorn’s blond hair was plastered to his head, water droplets clinging to his braids. The wet fabric of his tunic had gone nearly transparent from the downpour, revealing the faint blue glow of runes beneath the fabric. He was a sight to behold, even dripping wet. Maybeespeciallydripping wet.
While the spell that had ensnared Bjorn earlier was gone, whatever was trying to come to life between us hadn’t disappeared. My laughter died on my lips as our eyes met, and that fluttering feeling returned to my belly, more insistent this time. No unicorn magic now. Now, it was just Bjorn and me, alone in a cabin with rain drumming on the roof.
“You’re soaked,” he said gently.
“So are you,” I replied, not caring one bit about the water puddling at our feet.
