Chapter 11 #2
But something entirely unexpected happens instead.
Lorian's lips twitch. Then they curl upward at the corners. A strange sound emerges from his throat, hoarse and throaty and utterly wonderful. I take a moment to recognize it as laughter.
The sound starts as a low rumble, then transforms into something genuine and surprisingly warm. It changes his entire face, softening the sharp angles. There’s a flash where I can picture him as a young man, carefree and happy.
And it breaks my heart just a little. But not too much. Because the situation is hilarious.
I'm momentarily stunned by the sight of him laughing and by how it transforms him. This isn't the polite chuckle he might offer in professional settings. This is real laughter, the kind that comes from deep inside, that can't be planned or controlled.
Millie's giggles join his, and suddenly I'm laughing too, partly from the absurdity of the situation, but mostly from the sheer delight of seeing Lorian Reizenhart, of all people, covered in pink glitter and laughing his heart out.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Elf," Millie gasps between giggles as she pulls down on the string of a balloon attached to her bedpost. She goes down and down until she lands in Lorian's glitter-covered arms. "Aunt Evelyn said the fairy balloons would bring me good luck!"
"Did she now?" Lorian asks, still chuckling as he sets Millie down on her bed. Pink glitter falls from his hair with every movement, creating a shimmering cloud around him. "I suspect your Aunt Evelyn has a mischievous streak."
"Millie, why don't you hold on to the bedpost while Dr. Elf and I prepare your medicine?"
Lorian turns to Rylan Primrose, who still stands in the doorway, his face a mask of pure shock.
"I need to give Millie a mild sedative to suppress the laughter since the herbal ice pops aren't working as well anymore," he tells the anxious father. “It’ll make her a bit drowsy, but she will be able to eat, drink, and sleep through the night without floating or giggling.”
Lorian examines the child, listening to her heart and lungs, checking her temperature, and testing her reflexes. Throughout the examination, I keep stealing glances at him, seeing him in a new light after witnessing his genuine laughter. It did weird things to me, hearing that laugh.
Glitter falls from his hair and coat with every movement, but he seems to have accepted his sparkling fate with surprising grace. There's a relaxed set to his shoulders that I haven't seen before, as if the balloon incident broke through some invisible barrier.
"Her symptoms are persisting longer than expected, but I'm seeing signs of improvement," Lorian says quietly to Rylan while I help Millie take the sedative drops.
"The glowing freckles are less intense than they were three days ago, and her hair is returning to its normal color behind her ears and at her nape. "
"So she'll be okay?" Rylan asks, the worry evident in his voice.
"She'll be fine," Lorian assures him. "Some cases simply take longer to resolve than others.
Continue with the ice pops Nurse Callahan has provided, and make sure she stays hydrated.
Tomorrow morning, give her another five drops to help her through the day.
The floating should stop soon, then the giggling and the hair color change.
The last symptoms to clear will be the freckles. "
After finishing our examination and providing updated care instructions, we leave. As we stand on the front porch again, the full moon is high, and the sky is cloudless.
I turn to Lorian, who sparkles like some strange, stern fairy-tale creature. He attempts to brush some of the glitter from his clothes, but only succeeds in spreading it further and embedding it deeper in the fabric. A muttered curse escapes his lips as he finally gives up.
"You know that's never coming off, right?" I say, allowing myself to enjoy this moment of seeing the always-perfect doctor slightly disheveled and despondent. "You'll be finding glitter in unexpected places for months."
Lorian sighs, looking down at his glittering hands with resignation. "I suspected as much."
"It's the herpes of craft supplies," I add with a grin. "Once it's on you, it never really goes away."
He looks at me with an expression that's both exasperated and amused, a hint of that smile still lingering around his mouth. "That's a disturbing comparison."
"But accurate." I step closer, reaching up to brush a strand of glitter-covered hair from his cheek before I can stop myself. His skin is warm beneath my fingertips, and I feel him tense at the contact. "If you don't let me help you, you'll be sparkling for your next fifty patients."
Something flickers in his eyes, uncertainty perhaps, or something deeper.
"Apart from taking ten showers in a row, I admit I don’t know what to do."
"I have some tricks that might help," I say, letting my hand drop back to my side. "As the school nurse, I'm practically an expert in glitter removal. You wouldn't believe how many craft day disasters I've had to clean up."
He hesitates, a series of emotions crossing his face too quickly for me to interpret. Then he says something that catches me completely off guard.
"I wouldn’t want to cover your house with glitter. We could go to my place instead."
The invitation hangs between us, loaded with potential. My heart stutters in my chest, and for a moment, I can't find my voice.
"For glitter removal purposes," he adds hastily, glitter sparkling in his eyelashes as he blinks.
"Right," I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel. "Purely professional glitter removal."
Our eyes meet, and something electric passes between us. I remember Harriet's advice about not letting him run away this time, about getting answers. His cabin would certainly provide the privacy for that conversation.
"Okay," I agree, aiming for casual, though my insides are a riot of anticipation and nerves. "Lead the way."
He nods once, then walks to his car, leaving a trail of glitter behind him that sparkles in the moonlight. He unlocks the sleek black sedan and opens the passenger door for me, a gentlemanly gesture that feels both formal and intimate.
As I slide into the passenger seat, the clean scent of his car surrounds me—cedar, leather, and the subtle scent of his cologne. The interior is immaculate, of course, all sleek lines and pristine surfaces.
I watch him remove his coat and attempt to shake the glitter off in the street.
He glances at me, then unbuttons his shirt to remove it and shakes it as well.
My mouth dries at the sight of his long, lean, muscular body.
He’s truly built like a statue, lean abs and clean lines ending in a V below his waist. Then he bends and shakes his long blond hair and a riot starts between my legs as arousal floods through me.
You’re in trouble now, Lorian Reizenhart, I think as he straightens and stares at me, ogling him like he’s a cake on a display stand. Truth be told, I don’t even feel bad for getting an eyeful.
I feel wicked. Wicked good.
After he’s done shedding his glitter coat like a golden retriever, he pulls his shirt back on, to my deepest regret, and slides in the driver’s seat. There’s still a good amount of glitter sticking to every part of his delicious elf body.
“Let’s get you home, Doctor Elf,” I tell him with a grin.
He chuckles and pulls out onto the street. And I resolve that this time, I won't let him run away.
Maybe now is the time to tackle him to the ground until he gives me some answers.