Page 9 of The Incubus's Angel
Filter apparently forgotten at the door, I blurt out, “You have a really nice smile.”
Ren’s cheeks darken to an even deeper red and he tilts his head down as he finally follows me into the kitchen. “Uhm, thanks. So do you.”
I shoot him a pleased look across my shoulder. “Yeah? Thank you.” I preen on the inside, happy that the attraction is not completely one-sided, and refusing to believe he’s saying it just to be nice.
If I wondered if Ren was shy before, it’s definitely confirmed now with how he doesn’t quite manage to meet my eyes. I’ll need to find my filter quickly because I don’t want to make him more uncomfortable.
Would it be rude to ask him to turn on a light or open some windows so I can see better with my measly human eyesight? Totally would. Maybe he’d think I was saying it smells bad. Which it totally doesn’t. It smells like… lemon and rosemary, and something distinctly masculine. Leather maybe?
“Have you eaten?” I ask as I unpack the picnic basket, laying out the variety of goods I brought. I was contemplating eating some when I woke up from my nap, but I felt too guilty after the amazingly vivid dream I had. Ren featured front and center, doing all sorts of yummy things to me and I took it as a sign that my subconscious won’t rest until I’ve admitted to my trespassing and thievery.
Ren nods slowly as he steps closer to the table, clearly enticed by the goodies laid out. “Yeah, but I can always eat again. Everything looks delicious. You said you helped make some of these?”
“Yes,” I say proudly, unpacking the final few and placing the picnic basket on the stone floor. “Uncle Richard is my mom’s brother, and he married Annamae. I’m really close to both of them and live in Cape Easton. When I heard she was injured I packed my bags and moved in with them to help where I could. I’ve been working in The Flowering Teapot since then. It was so much fun, and a total privilege, to come up with a bunch of flavor combinations for all the different treats served at Tilly and Bodin’s ceremony.” Realizing I just gave him way moreinformation than he asked, I quickly add, “Sorry. You didn’t ask for an info dump. Yes, I helped make all these baked goods.”
Ren holds up a hand, his brows pulling low. “Please don’t apologize. I like listening to you talk.” The admission warms me from the inside out and a little sigh of appreciation slips out. Ren, however, looks shocked—perhaps a little mortified—at his candor.
“Ren, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you like me,” I tease, bumping him with my shoulder.
Ren opens his mouth but snaps it closed just as quickly. He scratches at the back of his neck, his golden eyes bugging out as he searches for an appropriate response.
Putting him out of his misery, I change the topic. “Got any forks or are you okay with eating with your fingers?”
“Sorry. I seem to have misplaced my manners. I’ll get us forks. And open the shutters.”
I dip my head in acknowledgment, sensing Ren needs a moment to gather himself. He heads toward the shutters and throws them open. The whole interior floods with sunlight, transforming the man cave into a charming home.
I roll my lips together to keep myself from saying anything else, holding my body absolutely still as I track his movements throughout the house.
When Ren holds out a fork for me, I take it and push some tartlets toward his side of the table. “Try these. They’re my favorite. Then the ceremony cake, that’s this one. Oh, and if you like that, then you have to try the cookies.” I line up all the food in order of most delicious to slightly less delicious.
“They’re tiny. And very… pretty,” he says admiringly.
My shoulders shimmy with pride. “Aren’t they just? It’s a candied tangerine mascarpone tart with a pistachio chocolate crust.”
Ren pushes his fork into the tartlet, but before he can lift it toward his mouth, my hand shoots out, halting the movement. “Do you have any allergies? I’m sorry, I didn’t ask. That was terrible of me.”
Something in Ren’s expression softens and his gaze flits over my face. “I’m safe. No allergies. How about you?”
“Just a mild shellfish allergy.”
“Does that affect your baking?”
The question is really thoughtful and my heart melts a little. I squeeze his hand once to show my appreciation then let go. “I usually prefer to work with sweet treats, but The Flowering Teapot does serve savory pies. A popular one is the fish-and-prawn pie. In the instances where I have to help prepare them, I wear gloves and ask my uncle or aunt, whoever is around, to do a taste test. The allergy isn’t super severe, but I do try to be careful.”
Tilting his head to the side, Ren asks, “Isn’t it hard for you to live on an island?”
I raise a single brow at him. “Already trying to get rid of me, Ren?”
Shock widens Ren’s eyes. “No! Not at all. Just… concerned.”
I pat the back of his hand. “Just kidding. Now, dig in and tell me what you think.”
Ren takes an obedient bite while my gaze homes in on his lips wrapping around the tines of the fork. I don’t realize I’mholding my breath until his eyes round with a slow nod that quickly turns vigorous.
“That’s so good. I’ve never tasted anything like it,” he says as he goes back for another bite. Ren demolishes the entire tartlet, making all kinds of humming noises as I stare at him with a small but very grateful smile resting on my lips.
I push the ceremony cake closer. “This one next.”
