Chapter 6 #2
The flight back to the manor took half the time without Corey’s excited wiggling. I landed behind the building, near the clearing where I’d been working yesterday.
I collected my chainsaw and gas can from the shed and took them to my partially carved gnome. I’d spend the morning working on it, losing myself in the familiar rhythm of creation.
To think I used to believe myself a sophisticated artist, creating expensive art for gallery prestige. Now I found more value in carving a garden gnome that would make a child smile.
Crafting this kind of art for people I cared for was far superior to the “high” art I’d created in isolation.
But when I looked across the gardens and saw Sammy directing the staff, her hair catching the morning light, all thoughts of work scattered.
She walked toward me.
“Jim called in sick,” she said when she reached me. “So I’ll be handling the gardening today while the others manage the café.”
“Do you need help?”
“I’ve got it. But thanks.” She glanced at the gnome. “That’s really coming together.”
“It’s getting there.”
“Well. I’ll let you work.” She turned to go.
“Sammy.”
She paused, looking back.
“Corey asked if I could pick him up from school. I told him I’d need your permission.”
Her face tightened, but she nodded. “That’s fine. He’d be disappointed if you said no now.”
“I don’t want to overstep—”
“You’re not. Really. It’s good for him.” She managed a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I should get to work.”
I watched her walk away, her shoulders straight. I could tell she was keeping herself together through sheer force of will.
I lashed my tail once before forcing it still.
After pulling on my hearing protection, I filled and fired up the chainsaw, then tried to focus on the wood in front of me.
The gnome’s face was taking shape. I’d roughed out the features yesterday, and now I needed to refine them. Add character. Personality. I’d do the fine work with smaller tools once I’d gotten the entire structure roughed in.
I kept glancing toward the gardens where Sammy knelt beside a flowerbed, pulling weeds. The sun caught the red hints in her hair, and her shirt had ridden up a bit, showing a strip of skin on her lower back.
I made myself look back at the gnome.
Three cuts later, I was watching her again.
She’d moved to a different bed, this one closer to where I was working, near enough I could see the concentration on her face, the dirt smudging her cheek.
My body responded to the memory of yesterday. Her eyes on me while I worked. The heat in her gaze before she’d fled.
I wondered if she was remembering too.
She stood, stretching her back, and caught me looking. Our eyes met across fifty feet of garden.
Neither of us looked away.
My tail twitched. My wings rustled against my back.
She was the first to break eye contact, returning to her work with slightly too much focus.
I forced myself back to carving and made it through maybe twenty minutes before checking on her again.
She was looking at me.
The awareness between us felt charged with something that had been building since the moment we met.
I wanted to cross the distance. The need to know what she tasted like, what sounds she’d make if I kissed her roared through me. If I ran my tail along her spine, would she arch against me?
The chainsaw slipped in my hands.
I shut it off, setting it down carefully. This was dangerous. I needed to focus on my work, or I’d make a mistake, ruining the carving or worse.
But I couldn’t resist glancing her way. Every time I tried to pay attention to the gnome, my gaze drifted back to Sammy.
An hour passed with this excruciating dance playing between us. Me pretending to carve. Her pretending to garden. Both of us hyperaware of the other.
Finally she walked to the shed and around the side, and I told myself it was the perfect opportunity to actually get work done.
Instead, I found myself turning off my chainsaw again and striding in that direction.
I would ask if she needed help. That was all.
Rounding the corner, I found her reaching for something high along the side of the wooden building.
“Let me,” I said.
She startled, turning. I was already moving forward, stepping behind her to reach over her shoulder. When she moved, my chest pressed against her side. My arm extended above her head. The shears were right there, an easy grab.
But I could not move.
The heat of her coasted through me. Damn, she was soft. Curvy in all the right places. Her breathing rose and fell, nudging her body against mine.
She tilted her head to look up at me.
Only a few inches separated us. The flecks of gold in her brown eyes stood out sharply. And my knees shook at the way her pupils dilated.
A smudge of dirt marked her cheek. I reached up, slowly, giving her time to pull away, and brushed a fingertip across her cheekbone, wiping away the dirt.
Her breath snagged in her throat.
“Sammy,” I rasped.
The air between us crackled, heavy with things I couldn’t name and about a dozen reasons why this might be a terrible idea.
She turned fully to face me and leaned into my chest.
I kissed her.
Gentle at first to give her the chance to pull away. I kept my lips soft against hers, and damn but this was perfect.
She released a soft moan, and her hands came up to rest on my bare chest.
Flames licked through my bones, the heat of it nearly dropping me to my knees. My tail moved on its own, curling around her waist, pulling her closer.
I deepened the kiss, and her lips parted. Then I was tasting her, cupping her face with my hands and tipping her head back to get full access. She tasted of cinnamon and coffee, and nothing could keep me away.
She gasped into my mouth. Her fingers flexed against my skin, her nails lightly scraping.
I wanted to devour her, back her against the shed wall, and find out what other sounds I could pull from her.
She eased back, her eyes wide, one hand flying to her lips. “I shouldn’t… We shouldn’t…” She shook her head. “I need to check on… I should…” Her face flushed, and she ducked to the side. “The café. I need to check on the café.”
“It’s fine. The staff can handle it.”
But she was gone, running across the open law toward the carriage house.
I stood beside the shed, my tail lashing, my wings spread open halfway, my entire body vibrating with need.
That was either the best or the worst thing I could’ve done.
Yet there was no denying it any longer. I should’ve seen it from the moment we met. My response to her touch, to kissing her just now proved it and smacked me over the head with the reason I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, watching her.
Sammy was my mate.
My fated mate.
This wasn’t simple attraction or desire. My soul had linked with hers, and there was no going back from that.
We’d known each other for less than a week, but gargoyles didn’t work on human timelines. We recognized our mates when we found them. The bond was instantaneous, undeniable, and permanent.
I looked across the gardens to where she’d disappeared into the café. My mate was in there, probably panicking, definitely overthinking, and absolutely convinced our kiss was a mistake.
And I had no idea what to do about it.
I couldn’t tell her the truth. She already had trust issues, and it was clear she thought her judgment about men was flawed. If I told her we were fated mates after three days, she’d think I was out of my mind. Or worse, that I was trying to manipulate her.
So I’d show her instead. Slowly. Carefully. I’d prove through my actions that I was worthy of her trust.
My tail finally settled, though my wings still rustled with restless energy.
Tucking them against my spine, I returned to the clearing.
But I couldn’t focus on carving now. My mind was too full of her.
Her taste. The feel of her pressing against me.
That small sound she’d made when I’d deepened the kiss.
I paced across the clearing, pivoting and stalking back the other way, my thoughts spinning.
Gargoyles courted their mates through acts of service. Building sanctuaries. Creating beauty. Solving problems. Making their mate’s life easier, better, more comfortable.
I could do that. I was already doing it, actually. The breakfast help, flying Corey to school, assisting with repairs.
But I needed to do more to show her I was serious. That this wasn’t temporary. She needed to see I wasn’t going to disappear if things got difficult.
The manor had plenty of projects I could work on, but the estate belonged to Feydin and Dazy, not me or Sammy.
Did she want her own home?
I needed to find out.
A car pulled up the drive, interrupting my planning.
Corey’s teacher got out, smoothing her skirt. She walked toward the gardens where Sammy had emerged from the café.
I stalked closer, not near enough to intrude, but I wanted to be there if Sammy needed me.
Her body language shifted as they talked, her polite smile replaced by surprise. Her hand went to her throat, her shoulders tensing.
Whatever the teacher was saying was making Sammy anxious.
My protective instincts roared to life. My claws extended fully. My tail lashed once, hard, smacking the ground.
I wanted to go to her. I’d handle whatever was causing that stress. Fix it.
But she wouldn’t appreciate being rescued. She’d made that clear already. She was capable and independent. This woman had proven she could handle everything herself, even when she shouldn’t have to.
After a bit more conversation, the teacher got back into her car and left. Sammy stood beside the flowerbed, one hand still at her throat, looking small and overwhelmed.
I walked toward her.
She saw me coming and straightened, smoothing her face and clothing. Trying to compose herself. Trying to look as if everything was fine. But I could see through it now. Tension lurked in her shoulders, and worry blazed in her eyes.
“What happened?” I asked when I reached her.
“Nothing. It was about school stuff.”
“Sammy.”
She sighed. “Corey’s teacher wants me to host a day at the gardens for Corey’s class.
” She rubbed her forehead, smearing dirt there.
“Which is great. It’ll give him a chance to show his friends a bit of his life.
I want to be involved in Corey’s school.
But I’m already managing the café and the gardens while Dazy’s gone, and I have no idea how to plan a day trip for children. ”
“I’ll help you.” I moved closer, resisting the urge to pull her against my chest. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”
“I can’t ask you to do this.”
“Yes, you can. You can accept help. You can let people support you.” I held her gaze. “You can trust that I’m not going anywhere, that I won’t leave you to do this all by yourself.”
Her eyes went bright. She looked away, blinking hard. “Why are you being so nice to us?”
Because she was my mate. Corey felt like family already. The thought of her stressed and overwhelmed made me want to tear things apart until I found a solution.
“Because I want to,” I said instead of naming things that would only scare her away.
She studied my face like she was searching for a catch, an ulterior motive, or the moment when I’d prove her instincts about men right.
I let her look, hoping she’d find whatever it was she truly needed to see.
“Okay,” she said. “You can help. Thank you.”
“When?”
“I don’t know yet. She’s going to email me the details.” Sammy pulled out her phone, checking the time. “I should get back to work. The afternoon rush will start soon.”
“And I should actually make progress on that gnome.”
Glancing that way, her lips curved up on one side. “It looks good so far. The face has personality.”
“High praise from someone who creates culinary art daily.”
Pink stained her cheeks. “It’s just cooking.”
“It’s never just cooking. Not the way you do it.”
“I should go,” she said, but she didn’t move.
Neither did I.
My tail twitched toward her, wanting to curl around her again. I’d just about kill to pull her close.
She took a step back. Another. “Afternoon rush.”
“Right.”
Turning, she strode toward the café, glancing back once before disappearing inside the building.
I returned to the clearing, picked up the chainsaw, and stared at the gnome without seeing it.
I was going to help make this school trip as wonderful as possible.
My wings spread, catching the sunlight. My tail settled into a slow swish.
I could be patient. Gargoyles were made of stone, after all. We understood the value of waiting, of building something that would last.
With the chainsaw roaring, I focused on the gnome’s nose, making careful cuts that required all my concentration.
But my mind kept drifting to the kiss and the way she’d responded before pulling away. To the flicker of need in her eyes that matched the fire in my blood.
She’d felt it too.
Which meant I needed to fight harder to show her I was worth surrendering to.
I bit into the wood with my chainsaw.