Chapter 20 #2
“Better than I have in ages,” I admitted, taking a sip of the coffee. It was perfect—rich and strong without being bitter. “Your bed is very comfortable.”
“The company wasn’t bad either,” he said with a sly glance.
I felt my cheeks heat but grinned back at him. “Not bad at all.”
He finished the last pancake and brought the stack to the island, along with a plate of bacon and a bowl of fresh berries. It was a feast fit for… well, a minotaur.
“This is incredible,” I said, helping myself to a pancake. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
He sat beside me, his barstool creaking slightly under his weight. “My grandmother taught me the basics. The rest I picked up over time. When you live alone, you either learn to cook or eat terribly.”
We ate in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the clink of forks against plates and occasional appreciative noises from me. It struck me how comfortable we were together already, how natural it felt to share this morning routine.
“What’s your day like?” he asked, refilling my coffee cup without asking.
“Pretty standard.” I took another sip of coffee. “Mrs. Wilson will be back today, which means I’ll have to catch her up on everything that’s happened while she was gone.”
Everything except the part where I started dating a minotaur, probably.
“Mrs. Wilson?”
“My supervisor. She’s been on vacation for the past few weeks. Family emergency in Florida.” I speared a strawberry with my fork. “She’s nice enough, but very… particular about how the library is run.”
He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I can drive you to work if you’d like.”
The offer caught me off guard. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” He reached over, his large hand covering mine. “I want to.”
Something warm unfurled in my chest. Such a simple gesture, but it meant so much—especially from someone as private and reclusive as Rion.
“I’d like that,” I said, turning my hand to lace my fingers with his. “But won’t people… stare?”
He shrugged, though I caught the flicker of tension in his shoulders. “They always stare. At least this time it would be for something that matters to me.”
I squeezed his hand, touched by the admission. “Then yes, I’d love a ride.”
After breakfast, I helped him clear the dishes despite his protests. As I was drying my hands, I caught sight of the clock on the microwave.
“We should probably get going soon,” I said, reluctant to break the bubble of contentment we’d created.
“You look nice,” he said gruffly. “I’m glad you don’t have to go home to change. Maybe you could keep a few things here? If you want to,” he added quickly.
My heart skipped a beat. An extra toothbrush was one thing, but clothes? That was… different. It implied he wanted me to spend the night. Often.
“I’d like that,” I said softly.
I stood on tiptoe to kiss him, intending it to be brief. But his free arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss. I melted against him, thoughts of work temporarily forgotten.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing harder. “We should probably go,” he murmured against my hair.
“Probably,” I agreed, making no move to step away from him.
With visible effort, he released me and took a small step back. “Your virtue is safe from me, librarian. At least until after work.”
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years. “Is that a promise?”
His slow smile sent heat spiraling through me. “Absolutely.”
The ride into town was quiet, the forest passing in a green blur.
He drove with the same focused intensity he applied to everything, one large hand resting on the steering wheel, the other resting over mine on the center console.
I kept stealing glances at him—at the way the morning light caught in his fur, at the slight furrow of concentration between his brows, at the magnificent curve of his horns that I was beginning to know as well as my own hands.
As we got closer to town, I could feel the subtle shift in him, the careful straightening of his shoulders, the slight tightening of his grip on the wheel. He was preparing himself to be seen, to endure the inevitable stares and whispers.
“We could park a block away,” I suggested gently, but he shook his head. He pulled up in front of the building, putting the truck in park but leaving the engine running.
“What time do you finish today?” he asked.
“Five-thirty.” I gathered my bag, suddenly reluctant to leave the cocoon of his presence. “What about you? Do you have work today?”
“A conference call with clients in Chicago, but otherwise I’m working on designs at home.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I could pick you up, if you’d like.”
The offer sent another wave of warmth through me. “I’d like that very much.”
He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Then I’ll see you at five-thirty.”
I leaned across the center console to kiss him goodbye, meaning it to be quick and chaste. But his hand came up to cradle the back of my head, holding me there as he deepened the kiss. I sank into it, forgetting momentarily that we were parked in front of my workplace in broad daylight.
When we finally broke apart, I was slightly breathless. “That’s certainly one way to start the workday. Thank you. For everything—dinner, breakfast, the ride…”
“You’re welcome. I enjoyed having you over.”
Understatement of the century, I thought, remembering the intensity of our night together. “Me too.”
“You too.” I reluctantly opened the door and stepped out, blowing him one last kiss before turning towards the library.
That’s when I saw her.
Mrs. Wilson stood at the top of the library steps, her silvery hair pulled back in its usual immaculate bun, her expression unreadable behind her tortoiseshell glasses. She was watching us—watching me—with an intensity that made my stomach drop.
How long had she been standing there? How much did she see?