Page 42 of Tail, Dark and Handsome: Celestial Mates
His actions were as good as a bucket of cold water.
Just a job, she reminded herself.
Winter
“Apologies,” he said, hauling Marigold to her feet. His kit startled him. He had no intention to push her away, but it was a reflex developed to avoid cameras.
She batted at his hands, irritation written on every inch of her. “Back off. Enough.”
He stepped back, missing the loss of her heat. Zero ran up the beach and skidded to a halt.
“If you have changed your mind, I understand,” he said. Whatever this was between them was fragile, and his proposal added undue stress. If she refused him outright, he could not blame her.
She huffed, hands balled at her side. Frustration vibrated through her, yet her voice remained cool as she said, “I’ll see you in the morning for departure.”
Father and son watched her leave. “What did you say?” Zero demanded.
“Regretfully, it is not what I said.” Winter rubbed a hand over his face, aware that the scent of her perfume lingered on his skin.
“How did you mess up? She liked us! What did you do?” Zero sneezed, loudly and rudely.
“Mind your manners,” he snapped.
He had only intended to offer the pilot’s position to Marigold. What followed, he had no plan for, only the vague sense of wrongness if she left. The lack of a plan—the complete lack of intention, honestly—worried him. His control had slipped. Would she run to the media with his poor excuse of a proposal?
No. Marigold was not like that. While his ability to judge the true intentions of those around him was faulty, Zero had an uncanny ability to spot those with a true and loyal heart.
Patience.
She requested time. He could wait.
“It is done,” he said. “She will come with us to Corra.”
“To stay?”
“No. She did not agree to that.”
“Make her,” Zero demanded, sounding like the young kit he was.
“You cannot force a person to stay. You can only open your heart,” Winter said, half-believing the words. In his experience, people were only interested in him for their gain. They always left in the end. He had yet to find the one who would choose to remain.
No amount of patience helped ease the burden of that truth.
Marigold
Countdown to departure ran like a subroutine in the back of her mind. Six hours, time to get out of bed. Six hours to pack and everything that came at the end of a holiday.
Mari wrapped the bedsheet around herself and hurried across the sand, one hand shading her eyes. The morning sun sat just above the horizon, turning the water into a blinding liquid gold. Gorgeous, sure, but hella hard to navigate her way to the seated figure on the sand without bumping into every single lounger. Every. Single. One.
Valerian sat with a blissed-out expression on her face, her legs folded neatly in the lotus position and her hands laid palm-up on her knees. She looked fresh and bright, like she rose before dawn to greet the day and not like she had been out all night with her gentleman friend.
Mari lowered herself onto the sand. Her legs folded neatly in a position that mirrored Valerian’s. She hoped she looked half as good as her mother at her age. As much as Valerian praised the benefits of antioxidants and meditations, Mari figured genetics and quality moisturizer had more to do with it.
“And what time do you call this, young lady? It’s like you don’t respect your curfew at all,” Mari scolded in a teasing tone.
Valerian ignored her and said, “So, you’re going with him, then.”
How did she know? Never mind. Moms always knew.
