Page 57 of Enchanted
He thought both of them would need it.
With his mind tuned to hers, he knew the moment she stirred. He stepped outside, carrying his coffee. She would come to him, questioning.
Upstairs, Rowan blinked in puzzlement. Had she dreamed it all? It didn’t seem possible when she could remember everything so clearly. The aching blue sky of Monterey, the bright music of children’s laughter. The warmth of welcome.
It had to be real.
Then she let out a weak chuckle, resting her brow on her updrawn knees. Nothing had to be real, not anymore.
She rose, and prepared to experience yet another magical day.
Chapter 11
When she saw him standing on the porch, it struck her all over again. The wild thrill, the rush of love, the wonder. That this stunning, extraordinary man should want her left her speechless with delight.
Moving on pure emotion, she rushed through the door to throw her arms around him, press her cheek against that strong back.
It staggered him, those sweet, fresh feelings that poured out of her so freely, the quick rise of his own that tangled with them. He wanted to whirl around, to sweep her up and away to someplace where there was no one and nothing to think of but her.
Instead, he laid his free hand over hers lightly.
“You brought us back before I had a chance to say good-bye to your family.”
“You’ll see them again … if you like.”
“I would. I’d love to see Morgana’s shop. It sounds wonderful. And Sebastian and Mel’s horses. I loved meeting all of your cousins.” She rubbed her cheek over his shirt. “You’re so lucky to have such a big family. I have some cousins on my father’s side, but they live back east. I haven’t seen them since I was a child.”
His eyes narrowed. Could there have been a more perfect opening for what he meant to tell her? “Go inside and get your coffee, Rowan. I need to talk to you.”
Her mood teetered as she loosened her grip, stepped back. She’d been so sure he’d turn and hold her. Instead, he hadn’t even looked at her, and his tone was cool.
What had she done wrong? she asked herself as she went inside to stare blindly at the line of cheerfully colored mugs. Had she said something? Not said something? Had she—
She squeezed her eyes shut, disgusted with herself. Why did she do that? she demanded. Why did shealways, always assume she’d done something? Or lacked something?
Well, she wasn’t going to do that anymore. Not with Liam. Not with anyone. A little grim, she got a mug and poured hot, black coffee to the rim.
When she turned, he was inside watching her. Ignoring the sudden dread in her stomach, she struggled to keep her voice impassive. “What do you want to talk to me about?”
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine standing.” She pushed at her tumbled hair, sipped coffee hot enough to scorch her tongue. “If you’re angry with me, tell me. I don’t like having to guess.”
“I’m not angry with you. Why should I be?”
“I have no idea.” To keep herself busy, she took out a loaf of bread to make toast she imagined would stick in her throat. “Why else would you be scowling at me?”
“I’m not scowling.”
She glanced back at his face, sniffed in derision. “You certainly are, and I don’t care for it.”
His eyebrow shot up. Her mood had certainly shifted from soft and cuddly to cold and snappy quickly. “Well, I beg your pardon, then.” In an irritable move, he yanked out a chair, straddled it.
Get on with it, he ordered himself.
“I took you to meet my family, and it’s family I want to speak of. I’d prefer it if you’d sit the bloody hell down instead of prowling about the room.”
Her shoulders wanted to hitch up in defense at the angry tone but she forced them to stay straight. “I’m making breakfast, if you don’t mind.”
