Page 17 of Decked By The Grumpy Golem
Gideon huffs like he wants to object but can't find a legitimate reason.
"Cinnamon," he repeats, tucking the kitten more securely inside his jacket. Bright-green eyes and one perfect ear peek out above the lapel like a tiny, furry periscope. “I think Martha would like that.”
"Text me when you get him settled," I say as I take a step back, feigning casualness. By the look on Gideon’s face, I’m not good at it. Then again, he knows me too well.
"Thanks, Lucia," he responds, his gaze traveling on my face like he wants to remember every inch of it.
Around us, the square exhales into evening. Doors thunk shut, tires hiss away through snow, firepits are extinguished. Voices call goodbyes across the emptying space as Saltford Bay wraps up another day of holiday cheer.
But for once, the distance between Gideon and me feels measured in inches rather than years. Maybe, that's enough for now.
"See you around, Stoneface," I say softly.
He nods, snow melting on the skin of his head. "See you around, Lulu."
I'm halfway to my car when my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
Cinnamon says thank you. Also, he's already claimed my lap as his favorite chair.
I find myself smiling as I type back.
He's got excellent taste. That chair was always the best spot in your house.
The response comes quickly.Still is. You’re welcome to sit on it anytime.
I blush, all alone in my car, then look around like a naughty schoolgirl before returning to my phone. Am I flirting by text with Gideon Flintman?
Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll do more than sitting on it.
I’m mortified at my own boldness, but at the same time, I haven’t felt this alive in months, if not years. My stomach flips over when another message appears.
You’re welcome to do anything you want on my lap.
Duly noted. This should make for good dreams.
I stare at the screen as the message is marked Delivered. Three ellipses appear, disappear. Then another message pops up.
Good night, Lulu.
I sigh.
Good night, Stoneface.
And as I drive home through the snowy streets of Saltford Bay, I can't shake the feeling that something fundamental just shifted between us. Something small but significant, like the first crack in a dam that's been holding back a decade of unfinished business.
But just as I pull into my parents' driveway, my phone rings. Derreck's name flashes on the screen, and my stomach drops as I remember the ultimatum he delivered earlier. The real world comes crashing back, with its deadlines and contracts and the possibility that my entire career is circling the drain.
I stare at the phone until it stops ringing, then sit in my car for a long moment, watching the Christmas lights twinkle on my parents' house.
Tomorrow, I'll deal with Daniel and my editor and the mess I've made of my professional life. Tomorrow, I'll figure out how to write my way out of this hole.
But tonight, for just a few hours, I'm going to let myself believe that some problems can be solved with a devastating golem smile and a tiny orange kitten who's probably already convinced he owns Gideon Flintman's entire heart.
Chapter Eight
Gideon
Thechiselbitesintogranite with a sharp crack that echoes through my workshop, the sound reverberating off stone walls like a gunshot. My hands are steady like they always are when I'm working, but my mind is pure chaos, replaying every second of my last interaction with Lucia.
