short story: becca bilbo-dorris
A Caretaker’s Desire: part 2 - A Golden Slice
“No, no, no, no, no, no!” Mara threw her hands dramatically up in the air then let them collapse on her face. “My babies!” She moaned as she watched the dark clouds blow in on the icy wind. Sighing, she grabbed the stack of old linens kept in the barn just for occasions like this and marched over to her fruit trees. The squishing of her boots squelching in the mud the only other sound as she muttered to no one in particular, “It’s the middle of April! We’re supposed to be past any potential of a hard freeze, but no, not this year.” She let out a frustrated sigh. It’d been over a year since her father’s accident. Shouldn’t this year be better? Too bad that dream hadn’t been her reality. Some help from some magical horse-being would be nice about now.
“Stupid year!” She kicked the ground and screamed as loud as she dared into the empty field. “This year just wouldn’t give me a break, would you? Stupid warm weather that tricked me into a false sense of security. I thought you were going to help make things easier! You, you, you… gah! I don’t even have the vocabulary for what I want to call you,” she growled as she stomped off.
She paused as she approached the first tree and dropped her load on the ground before pulling one from the pile. She flung it over the small tree, easily covering all the budding fruit then secured it from blowing away. She continued on to the next tree down the line, repeating the process, ranting into the frigid air. “This year will be the death of me one way or another. Either I’ll be starved because everything froze or I’ll work myself to death making sure they don’t. If only someone would actually help me when and where I need it.” She looked over her shoulder toward her home. The lights glowing in the windows where she knew her younger sister was curled up with a book by the fire.
“I must keep up with my studies if I’m going to grow up and help the family,” Amber had insisted.
“You won’t be able to study if your stomach is empty!” Mara had tried not to scream. “It’ll be much faster if you help.”
“What about Evan?” Amber’s eyes peered up at Mara over her book. “I thought he was helping you today.”
“He is tending the animals for me,” Mara stared at the ceiling, willing the wetness forming in the corner of her eyes to be reabsorbed. “Please, come help me cover the trees then I can handle the rest of the garden.”
“I need to finish reading this section before tomorrow,” Amber said as she flipped through the pages to see how much she had left to finish. “Just a handful of pages, then I’ll need a break anyway and will come help you then. Will that work?”
“Fine,” Mara muttered, turning on her heels and left.
The wind blew a fresh short blast of cold air, bringing her to her senses. One by one she made her way through the rows, trying not to think of how her mother had carefully grafted and tended the younger saplings. She tried not to think of all the holes she’d help her father and Everett dig. The last fleeting moments of laughter with everyone as Mara tried to wield the heavy shovel, nearly as tall as she’d been. Mother watching as she hung the laundry, glowing and cheerful with her belly swollen with yet another child. Amber playing with Evan in the mud nearby.
Their mother had passed not long after the last tree was planted. The grief of yet another child lost devoured her from within is how her father had explained it. That she knew we’d be safe and loved under father’s care and she went on to care for our siblings. And we were, until that fateful accident.
Standing in the middle of their small orchard, Mara turned slowly, taking in what all she had accomplished, which never seemed enough in any circumstance. The older trees were all that was left. They were not nearly as delicate as the smaller, younger trees, some of those were practically still saplings. Though they were studier, the fruit was not.
She walked towards her favorite apple tree on the edge of the orchard. One of the oldest, battered and beaten by all the wind over the years, the trunk was leaning and gnarled yet sturdy. Though her mother had taken several cuttings from this tree which grew into sturdy plants of their own, none of them produced as sweet and delectable as this one. Perhaps it was the soil, perhaps there was some sort of magic in the tree itself.
The blossoms practically glowing in the last of the sun’s light caught her eye. Her gaze then drifted down the branch to an older bloom, the petals withered and dreary, yet inside was the tiniest proof of fruit. A small smile barely drifted over her tired features as she observed this minute proof of life. A small sense of hope of a happy moment to come. Whether it be a fresh cut crisp slice or cooked into a soft gooey tangy dessert, it didn’t matter. The end result would be the same, a full belly; another form of magic entirely. One too often taken for granted. And if she was going to enjoy that future moment, she needed to finish her work now so this freeze wouldn’t have the chance to take anything else from her.
Mara checked her supplies and determined that since Amber had yet to show her face, climbing would be the easiest way to save the most apples. Skillfully, she hoisted herself up and tossed a couple of sheets out. She secured them from that angle then climbed further out to help spread the sheets as far as they’d go. She didn’t have enough to cover the entire thing, but she could save enough. Sweaty, covered in earthy tree grime and exhausted she began her descent, carefully avoiding the smaller limbs.
Both feet back on firm ground, she paused to wipe her hands on her skirt. She then examined her palms carefully, dirt still entrenched under her fingernails and in some of the deeper lines, especially lining her calluses. She shook them out and placed them on her lower back and stretched. Taking a deep inhale, she smirked to herself at the success of not falling out of the tree as she was apt to do, nor getting any splinters or scratches while completing her task before the sun fully set. She nodded her head and set off to go check on Evan’s progress with the animals.
Before she could take three steps in the direction of the barn she whacked her head hard on a low hanging branch. The very same branch she had just been standing on. She stumbled back, one hand flung out to grab the branch, the other immediately went to her forehead where a bump was already forming. She shut her eyes to the stinging pain and muttered a slew of nonsensical curses under her breath.
“Ouch,” said a mocking gravelly voice behind her, stifling a chuckle. “I don’t know what hurts worse; the bump on your head or my innocent ears.”
“Of course you’d see that,” Mara hissed, then muttered, “Innocent ears my ass.” Still holding the branch in a tight grip, she slowly turned to face the red-haired man behind her. Glaring at him, she growled, “Why are you here George?”
His light eyes traveled over her body, “It’s going to snow. I wanted to see if you needed any help staying warm.” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow and smirked.
Her grip on the branch tightened as her knees started to feel weak. Shit, she had more composure than this. “No, I’m good. The only thing I have left is checking on Evan.”
“Is Amber not with him?” George asked walking slowly towards her.
“No,” Mara spat out as he stopped right in front of her. “She needs to catch up with her studies.”
“And she’s left poor old sister dearest out in the cold all alone?” He asked peeling her hand away from her face. “Let me look at this.”
“I’m fine,” she said but didn’t resist as he examined her wound. His touch tender as he swept back a few strands of hair away to get a better view. Mara’s toes curled and thighs clenched involuntarily at the sensation. Blasted traitorous body. “Why are you really here? I thought we had an agreement?”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” his eyes drifted to hers. “I was on my way home from seeing Mr. Jamison about a heifer.” He gently circled the bump with his index finger.
Shivers went down her spine at the touch that she promptly shook off. “So, you talked with him about Sara?”
“You know I don’t like her,” he whispered, his breath brushing her cheek as his finger lazily traced the outside of her face down her neck landing at her collarbone.
Mara shrugged his hand off and started to walk towards the barn again. “No, but your father does and last I checked,” she stopped herself. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Whatever was happening between us is over anyway.”
George stepped in front of her flashing his charming smile, “It doesn’t have to be.” He ran a lock of her hair through his fingers.
“It isn’t meant to be, George,” she sighed with an air of annoyance. She crossed her arms over her chest, as much to hug the warmth back into herself against the icy wind as it was to show her irritation with him. She furrowed her brow and stared him down; ignoring the throbbing above her eye. He met her gaze, pulling her in slowly. A single snowflake danced in front of her, landing on her nose. The bite of cold broke the spell. “You should go on home,” she said, pushing past him.
“I don’t mind staying a little longer,” he said following her, matching her stride. “Maybe I can help you relieve some tension. Or warm you up… it is going to be an awfully cold night. Want me to make sure you have enough wood? I’d be happy to stoke your fire.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
“You can take your wood,” she stopped and turned to him. She jammed her finger in the middle of his hard chest, “and shove it up your ass. And if you don’t leave now, I’ll do it myself.”
“Is that a promise, or a threat?” His eyes danced as his childish grin grew wider. Her glare intensified causing his grin to falter. “Ok, ok,” he said holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll go.”
“Good,” she said, turning her back to him.
“I’ll see you soon, love!” he called after her.
She responded by throwing her hand up in a rude gesture. A deep chuckle was the only response. She approached the wooden gate and as she let herself in, she finally let herself look back also. She could barely see George’s red hair, practically a beacon in the dimming light, growing smaller as he approached the road. Pompous ass. The only thing he loved more than himself was his reflection. She sighed. He did have a knack for showing up when she weak, practically willing to throw away everything and live for just what made her feel good. It wouldn’t feel good if they couldn’t eat, she reminded herself, and he was more of a distraction than a help. A very delicious distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. Mara rolled her eyes at her thoughts. Heaven help her get focused on what truly mattered.
She slipped into the barn, grateful for the reprieve from the wind. She saw the old brown mare in her stall, slipping her head over the door, and softly grunted. Mara raised an eyebrow, “Need some attention sweet girl?” She walked over and started stroking her forehead. “Did Evan not take care of you?” She looked over the stall door and noted the fresh feed and bedding. “Looks good to me. I think you just wanted a longer rubdown. Don’t we women deserve a little extra pampering?” Mara felt the world sway and grabbed the stall door to steady herself. “I just don’t think I can tonight, maybe tomorrow.” The horse sighed her discontent as Mara patted her nose one last time. Then started her search for Evan. The sooner they finished, the sooner she could lay down.
The old barn had been added on to several times over the years creating a strange maze of larger rooms and stalls. Nothing was consistent. The small original structure, only big enough to house a couple of horses and their supplies, was made of stone. The newer sections were made of wood and brick. The haphazardness of it all was hidden from the outside.
She needed to find Evan and get him inside before he insisted on sleeping with the goats again. Mara turned a corner and ran smack into a warm solid surface. Her vision went black despite her eyes being open, her head felt tingly, her knees went wobbly, weaker than earlier with George. She felt someone grab her, hands too large for Evan. Did George come back? Her heart pounded. She brought a hand to her eyebrows, desperately wishing for the world to stop spinning. “Dammit, George, I told you to leave,” she muttered.
“Don’t worry,” said a warm, familiar voice. “I’m not George.”
“Oh, Mr. Riker!” She grabbed onto one of his arms that supported her, ignoring the low pulses of electricity ricocheting through her body from the contact. “I’m glad it’s you and not George. He is like the crud beneath my toenails; no matter how much it irritates me and I pick it away, he keeps coming back. So frustrating,” She slowly let her gaze drift up over his intricately knitted grey sweater, fitting so snuggly over his defined muscles she wondered if he had washed it in hot water. The stubble on his cheek did nothing to hide his dimples as he smiled down at her. Like he was genuinely thrilled just to be in her presence. The light danced and glimmered off his dark brown eyes dazzling and distracting her. “I don’t know how, but I think you’ve gotten more attractive since the last time I saw you.”
He let out a deep belly laugh, “Good, that means my magic’s working on you. And please, call me, Pol.” She swore the light bounced off his smile, so imperfectly perfect. A chill ran up her spine as he pulled her in a little closer and swept the hair from her forehead. His smile disappeared, “What happened to you?”
“Nothing, just a disagreement with a tree,” Mara rolled her eyes then winced. “I’m fine, don’t worry,” she insisted as she tried to take a step back. His grip on her relaxed as she found her balance.
“Who said I was worried?” He raised his eyebrows then winked. “But, I’m here if you need help staying on your feet.”
“Thank you, Mister... Pol,” she said sincerely. “Where is Evan?” She peered over his shoulder but there was no one else but the goats in their pen. “What are you doing here in my barn?”
He motioned to the smaller door in the corner which led to the large kitchen garden and beyond that the house. “I saw Evan struggling with a goat that was insisting on staying stuck in the fence, so I thought I’d help. He went to cover the garden and I took care of the animals. I mucked the stalls, got everyone where they needed to be, and made sure everyone was fed. I also tidied a little, I hope you don’t mind.”
She glanced slowly around the room and noticed several things she’d been putting off had been taken care of. “Thank you, it looks great. And I don’t mean to be rude, and sound ungrateful but what kind of man are you, and why did you come here in the first place?”
“Let’s just say I’m more than a man, and less than a god,” he grinned. “And Mr. Farzin asked me to deliver something to you when I was in town earlier,” he said nonchalantly. “I told him it would be my pleasure to have an excuse to see you again.” He gave her a subtle wink as his cheeks flushed lightly.
Mara’s eyebrows shot up as she eyed him suspiciously. “Oh? What is it? I don’t believe I ordered anything.” She rubbed at her scrunched-up forehead, carefully avoiding the still throbbing bump. The room started to sway again so she leaned against the nearest post. She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging them tightly. Willing her mind to believe she was standing still.
“All I know is that it’s a gift,” he shrugged, eyeing her forehead, “and something you’d make good use of.” She studied him carefully as he walked over to where his dark blue overcoat was hanging. He moved quickly yet with the ease of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He slowly pulled a small rectangle package wrapped in crinkled brown paper and tied with an emerald ribbon. He sauntered back over to her like a curious fox. His eyes dancing or maybe that was just her vision blurring.
She blinked and he was in front of her again holding the package out. She stared at it for a moment then slowly released the grip on her sweater and reached to take it from him. As she grasped the package, her fingers brushed the back of his hand sending a distant yet familiar sensation up her spine. She froze at the sensation and shut her eyes, drinking in the flashes of memory of that day she thought she dreamt. Of that strange horse, or not just a horse as he had insisted, taking her for an even more bizarre ride. If he wasn’t a horse, what was he?
Opening her eyes she saw him smirking at her like he knew all the mysteries of the world, including her thoughts. “Thanks,” she muttered, finally pulling the gift free from his grasp. She sucked in her lips as she gently pulled the ribbon free, weaving it in-between her fingers. It felt just as silky as the “not a” horse’s mane. She caught Pol’s intense gaze out of the corner of her eye and tore the paper. Inside was a small green leather-bound book with gold lettering and gold-dusted pages.
Mara raised an eyebrow as she read the title, “Tall Tales and Short Truths: A Beginner’s Guide to Fairies. Written by T.D. Danen.” She flipped to a page marked by another emerald ribbon. Colorful paintings of various animals surrounding a man and woman dancing in front of a tree, covered one page while crisp calligraphy decorated the other. Both were exquisite in detail. She brought the page closer to her face and traced the one-word heading; Púca. “Interesting,” she spoke quietly before reading the next line; “‘Master of shapeshifting, luck and fortune, both good and ill. Be on your guard.’ Huh, ominous. I wonder why he thought this would be useful.” Her eyes shifted back to the animals; a bat, a rabbit, a goat, a horse. All black and yet emanating all colors. Her vision blurred slightly as she tried to focus on the horse, but it was like something didn’t want her to see. Like when everything was a haze on that ride on that not just a horse. The not just a horse with Pol’s voice. Had she hit her head then as well? Or perhaps she’d hit it harder than she thought today.
Her pulse was eerily steady as she looked up over the page into Pol’s dark stare. “I met a horse once, just like this one,” she began, not knowing why she felt compelled to tell him. “It took me on a strange ride that day you first came to my booth in the town market. I used to think it was a dream, but it felt so real.” She tilted her head to the side and studied his expression. His lips pulled slightly into a smile, one thick eyebrow raised, a lock of dark, silky hair fell into his face and obscured the rest of his practically unreadable expression. “You already knew my name. How? Why?”
Pol’s smile broadened, showing off his perfectly straight teeth, and laughed. “You caught me, Mara. Let’s just say,” he raised his hands up for a moment before sliding them into his pockets and looked at the ground. “I am extremely shy,” he slowly enunciated each syllable. Head still facing down, he peered up at her through the hair that had fallen in his face.
She narrowed her eyes in disbelief and tapped her foot. Shy? The man was quiet but charming, outgoing, and had made friends with half the village in the year he’d been here. People here liked him which is saying something since it seemed they barely tolerated and pitied her, despite her family being well-liked. “You don’t seem shy,” Mara shook her head slowly. “And what does that have to do with knowing who I was before coming to talk to me?” She shut the book and hugged it to her chest.
His face flushed as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and he ran his hands through his thick hair. “I had seen you before, the first time I came here, long before I moved here. You,” he paused, and sucked in his lips for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously. “You intrigued me. Then when I moved here, I kept seeing you. Practically everywhere I went. I saw you helping a child pick out a book as a gift for his mother, though there was only one copy- the one you were holding. I saw you in your fields, helping your father, and once witnessed you giving your plow a severe tongue lashing. I would have loved to know what it said to upset you so. I even saw you go out of your way seven blocks to return a shawl that had dropped out of an extremely deft older woman’s basket.”
“I don’t think I even remember those events,” Mara brought a hand to her chin, tapping a finger on her lips. After a moment her eyes grew wide and she shook the finger in the air and gasped, “Except the shawl woman. I hope I’m that fast when I’m ninety-six. I asked her what her secret was and all she said was beets. Then she thanked me and shut the door in my face,” she squinted her eyes at him in confusion. “Wait, are you saying that you were following me? And you still haven’t told me how you found out my name. What does this have to do with anything?”
“Most were happenstance,” Pol admitted, tilting his head to the side as he held his empty palms up. “But I wanted to see how far you’d go before you gave up,” he pushed the hair out of his face. “Because I kept giving up. I attempted to introduce myself several times, but I was afraid of approaching you. You are such an intimidating human. You are kind, determined, strong, independent, but those few you desired relationships with, from what I could tell, you love them ferociously...” It was her turn to flush at that, as he stepped closer to her. “I was scared that you wouldn’t give me a chance to be one of those precious few. I’m still a little afraid now,” he added, placing a hand on the post she was still resting against. “And as for your name,” he paused, “I asked,” leaning in so close she could feel his breath on her ear as he whispered, “Mara.”
Her name sounded like honey coming from him. Ignoring the shivers the sensation of his breath created, and hoping he couldn’t hear her heart hammering she asked, “So, you had been trying to gather your nerves to come and talk to me? Because I intimidate and fascinate you?” He nodded slowly. Mara met his intense gaze with a raised eyebrow. He was so close. Surely this was a lie, she was not that interesting. Sure, she was strong, quite the badass in her opinion actually. Sure she’d kept her siblings alive, but was that because she was kind or out of obligation? A mythological creature who felt obligated to return a favor made so much more sense. She sighed deeply, “And you’re sure you’re not a magical shape-shifting creature?”
“What do you think?” he asked as his smirk grew until his dimples became so deep she thought they could hold a nut if he tried. Then let out a low chuckle, “Do I look magical to you?”
Heart pounding in her chest, Mara swallowed the tension in her throat. She shut her eyes firmly. “I’m sorry, I’m such a foo-,” was all she could manage to say before he placed a gentle finger on her lips.
“You’re not, so don’t say it,” he growled. Her eyes snapped open to find his locked on hers. He took a deep breath, blowing the air forcefully from his nose, reminding her of her horse when she’s discontented. Then he spoke, quiet sincerity thickly laced in his tone, “You’re not a fool. You’re a million things but a fool has never been one of them.” Then he kissed her, right on top of the bump on her forehead. The contact was warm and soft, drawing her in. As she leaned into the embrace, prickly, stinging steady vibrations radiated throughout her body from the bump. Slowly the pain eased, the blurred edges healed. Pol pulled away, his breath heavy.
Immediately she brought a hand to her forehead and felt the bump, not gone completely, but nearly. “What are you?”
“I told you earlier, less than a god, more than a man,” he raised an eyebrow and winked at her. “But you don’t need to worry about it, yet. You’ll understand in due time. Just wait.” He leaned in again and she shut her eyes, unsure of what was happening. She felt the slightest brush of lips on her cheek.
She brought her hand to her face as she opened her eyes. He was gone. “Pol?” She whispered, turning around, seeing no trace of him in the barn. She looked down at her hands, the ribbon still intertwined in her fingers, but the brown paper wrapping along with the book was gone.
The door swung open with an icy blast and she shoved the ribbon in her skirt pocket. “There you are!” A scraggly more than a boy, not quite a man with limbs too long and hair unkempt ungracefully followed a few dancing snowflakes into the barn. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! I’m done, it’s late, it’s snowing and I’m so hungry! Amber said we couldn’t eat till you came back.”
Mara just stared at the boy, blinking. “Did you see him leave?”
“Who?” Evan asked, looking over his shoulder then back to her. “I haven’t seen anyone.” He took in his older sister’s wide-eyed glassy stare and walked over to her and waved a hand in front of her face.
“What?” she asked, batting his hand away.
“Are you okay?” He scrunched his nose as he studied her. “Why are you being weird?”
“I’m,” she shook her head, “I’m fine.” She lightly touched her forehead, the bump practically gone but the faint edges of a dull ache still throbbed. She definitely hit that branch harder than she realized. “Let’s go,” she said, “I’m exhausted.” Draping an arm over his shoulder she grabbed the flickering oil lamp off the hook before ushering them out of the barn.
Together, they marched the short trek back to their warm cottage, the light from the hearth fire a small beacon and reminder of the direction they should go. The oil lamp she clung to cast an eerie glow on their path, the grass already frostbitten and crunching beneath their feet. Small flurries caught in the light looked like stars drifting to the earth against the darkness surrounding them. Beautiful. Beautiful and ominous.
Heat caressed and stung her face like a slap as they swung open the heavy wooden door. Amber stood in the kitchen, adding something to a pot on the stove. She looked up at her half-frozen siblings and smiled. “Perfect timing. Supper is almost ready.”
Evan locked eyes with Mara and uttered, “Let’s hope it’s edible this time.” She brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Shush!” she hissed. “Like you’re cooking is any better,” Mara whispered, elbowing him in the ribs. “Need any help?” she asked louder as she took off her worn shoes and socks she hadn’t realized were damp and muddy.
“I think I have everything under control,” Amber replied with a determined grin and wiping her hands on the faded apron she wore. Their mother’s favorite. “By the time I finished my work, you weren’t in the orchard anymore so I cooked. I hope that makes up for it,” Amber raised her eyebrows and dipped her chin, making her large dewy eyes appear even more doe-like. She blinked several times and stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.
Mara rolled her eyes as she walked over to the sink to wash up. “It’s fine, but you better get a job by fall,” she clipped.
“I will, I promise! I already have a lead on a teaching position.” Amber’s face lit up in a toothy smile. “They’re very interested, I just need to pass my exams next month.”
Her back facing her sister, Mara shut her eyes and swallowed her annoyance, and mustered all the enthusiasm she could, “That’s fantastic!” She turned and gave Amber a small smile.
“Thanks,” Amber’s gaze drifted down to the brilliant green ribbon poking out of Mara’s drab grey skirt and pointed to it. “What’s that?”
Biting her lip, Mara pulled it out, “Oh, just a ribbon.”
“It’s beautiful, where’d it come from,” Amber pulled it from Mara’s hand to examine it closer.
“Doesn’t matter,” Mara responded, yanking it back and shoving it further in her pocket. “Let’s eat.”
*****
The golden sun cast a warm glow on the orchard making the apples shine like solid gold. Mara stood at the edge of the tree line observing the brilliant changes in light with an empty woven basket resting on her hip. Six months had passed and they had survived. They had all survived. Amber was now working in a school, three towns over with George’s cousin Alice. Her older brother Everett and his wife, Rina had insisted Evan move in with them so he could take advantage of an apprenticeship in town. Leaving Mara alone, but satisfied that her siblings were taken care of. Everything she had ever wanted. Her remaining family was safe and cared for.
A warm breeze blew the silky ribbon tying her hair, the loose end tickling the sensitive soft spot on her neck beneath her ear. “I know you’re there,” she spoke without turning. A low chuckle reverberated behind her in response. “Is it time to go?”
“Do you need more time here?” The man asked, slipping his arms around her waist, nudging the basket out of her hands, and wrapping hers in his. His warmth radiating through her like hot soup chills the coldest of bones drenched in wet snow.
After the late snowstorm had melted, she had tracked him down at the soonest opportunity. He was standing outside of Mr. Farzin’s shop, barely visible in the shadows. She had marched up behind him, pinched under his upper arm, and pulled him into the vacant alley behind the store. “How dare you,” she had growled in his ear as she shoved him against the wall. His eyes wide, his face grew pale.
“Whatever did I do to offend you?”
“Left me feeling like I was losing my mind,” she waved her finger in his face. “You’ve been messing with my memories, all because you’re scared of me, right? Well, it’s time to tell me everything or I will give you a real reason to be terrified.” He flushed as a guilty smile crept across his face. “Well, go on, fix it!” she growled at him.
“You caught me,” he had shrugged and snapped his fingers. Instantly all the blurry memories cleared in her mind. All the failed instances of him trying to introduce himself but awkwardly fumbling over his words before the day in the market. Since then, interspersed friendly interactions grew lengthier and greater detailed. Again and again, he had tried to confess his feelings, then scared, took that part of the memory and ran away. Each time, her heart had raced. The warmth she had felt with George was a fraction of what she had felt with him, with Pol. “Better?” he asked sheepishly.
“Hmm, much. You still owe me my book, an explanation,” she dug her finger into his chest, trying to drive her point into him. “And, an apology. A very, very lengthy in-depth apology,” she dragged her finger down his chest, the heat in her tone turning from anger to something else. “If you had just waited, just asked me, you wouldn’t have done that, Pol.” She leaned in until their lips were so close they might touch. “Next time, you better do it, right.” As he leaned forward to close that small gap, she shoved him back against the wall. “Not yet, my magic man,” she patted his soft cheek, then leaving him with a confused and pleased expression, she turned and strutted off. He had spent the next several weeks groveling. She had loved every minute of it, and apparently, he did as well.
“No, I don’t need more time,” she turned in his arms and slipped her arms around his neck. “I’m ready for a new adventure. Think you can keep up with me, Magic Man?” She captured his gaze then gave him a sultry wink.
“No,” he chuckled. “But I’m willing to chase you across this world and the next.”
She pursed her lips and simply said, “Good.” Before pulling him into a sensuous kiss.
about the writer: becca bilbo-dorris
Becca Bilbo-Dorris fell in love with crafting stories, telling yarns, and creating beauty before she could even write. She lives in middle Tennessee with her husband and their three boys. They recently left suburbia and bought the family farm complete with ducks, chickens, and enough room for her plant babies. She is surrounded by a beautiful, natural and inspiring landscape which only fuels Becca’s desires to write, paint, and eventually acquire alpacas.
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