Page 12 of Just Right
He grabs my hand. His skin is warm, a hint of a callus on the edge of it a reminder that he wields an axe when he isn’t working with his bees. “I want to show you something. Rowan said I could.”
Well, if Rowan said…
I let Finn lead me toward a closet door as he says, “Rowan built this room to be big, not just because he’s the oldest. For as long as I can remember, he’s been filling this room with everything you might need. Well, notyou.We didn’t know who you would be, but we always hoped…” His voice trails to a closebefore he gives me an impish grin. “Don’t listen to me. When I get nervous, I babble.”
I squeeze his fingers. “Do I make you nervous, Finn?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows roughly.
Oh, yeah. I’ve got my answer all right.
“We’ve never had a female here before,” he blurts out. “I’ve never even talked to one myself.”
What? “A female?”
That’s the least confusing part of what he said, but if he wants me to believe that he’s never spoken to a member of the opposite sex before me, I need to verify that that’s what he means by female because… what the hell?
Finn cocks his head slightly. “Yes. A woman. A girl? Like you,honig.”
That last one has me chuckle despite my shock, enough so that I ignore the unfamiliar word that he tacked on at the end there.
“I’m thirty-two. Hardly a girl.”
He nods, and I decide to take the chance to learn more about the brothers—and maybe change the subject becauseholy shit—by asking, “How old are you?”
His brow furrows, like he’s thinking. After a moment, he sighs, and I think I might’ve made a mistake by changing the subject.
And then... “Older than thirty-two.”
There’s a slight plea to his tone that tells me not to ask again. And I get it; at least, I think I do. Blackmoor is a place of magic. Or legend. If fairytales are real… if I can finally stop fooling myself that I’m currentlylivingone… then what if they’re immortal? How can a fairytale die as long as someone is out there, passing it on?
Older than thirty-two? Who knows how long Colt and Rowan and Finn have been out in the woods, waiting for their Goldie…
We’ve never had a female here before…I’ve never even talked to one myself.
What does that mean? That I’m really the first?
First what?
First guest?
Or… shit. He can’t mean?—
Firstfirst?
My heart flutters as the rest of my body heats up. Just the idea that any of the strapping lumberjacks could bevirginshas me even more interested in them than I was a few moments ago… and considering I’ve been thinking ‘what-if’ despite knowing that they’re freaking bears tells you that I was already probably way in over my head.
Can he tell? Maybe because, while I’m sightly distracted, he lets go of my hand and pulls open the closet door.
“Go on,” he says. “See if there’s anything you like.”
I’m not really sure why he thinks I would inRowan’s closet, but to humor Finn, I step into one heck of a walk-in closet.
On the right side, there’s a wooden bar stretching along the length with a variety of different flannel shirts and rugged jeans. Rowan’s clothes, obviously. But on the left…
Dresses. Blouses. Trousers. All plain, yet handmade, in colors that remind me of the forest: browns and whites and greens and greys. A couple of stray blue pieces, and some fluffy dark coats hanging on the rod.
Undeniably, it’s a wardrobe for a woman—in a house that’s never hosted on before me.
