He helps me to my feet and cups my cheeks. The movement is so fast and tender I stop talking. “Why do you apologize so often, sweetheart? And why do you do it now?”
“Because I probably freaked you out by screaming, and then you had to rush in here and catch me before I cracked my damn head open…”
His lips curve into a lopsided grin that makes him look boyish, and I wonder for a moment what would’ve happened if we had grown up at the same time. I certainly would’ve noticed him. Cheekbones like his are hard to miss. Would we have found each other? Been attracted to each other, like we are now?
“Ah, yes. It was certainly a hardship to open my arms and have a radiant goddess fall into them,” he says, then crosses his arms and tries to look stern. “The trauma will probably haunt me for many lifetimes.”
I playfully shove at his chest. “Okay, fine. I take back my apology.”
“As you should. You screamed because you were frightened. There’s no need to apologize for such things.”
He’s right. I toss out apologies far too often, just like every other woman I know. Then, something occurs to me. “How did you know where I was? Were you in the hallway?”
Blood rushes to his cheeks as he pretends to fidget with his suspenders. I notice the subtle tan line around his ring finger where his wedding ring used to be. When did he take it off? “I…”
“You…?”
His voice lowers to a whisper. “I always know where you are.”
A pleasant heat unfurls in my chest, spreading down to my belly. “How?”
His mouth twitches as he tries to find the right words. “I have no idea. At any time of day, if you’re home, I can feel where you are. My body justknows.”
I want to focus on how convenient that is, for moments like this when I fall off a high surface and come close to death, but I can’t. Not when he’s looking at me like that. Not when the words,my body just knowsare so loaded and full of longing that Iworry I’ve soaked my underwear to the point I’ll start to drip. I’m tempted to demand Winston bend me over the kitchen stool and fuck me into oblivion, but there’s a matter much more pressing that needs to be dealt with first.
I square my shoulders and take a deep breath. “Can you kill the spider for me, please? If we lose track of that thing, I’m going to have to burn the house down.”
Winston chortles as he removes his boot. “How would Lindsay feel about that?”
“She’d fully support my decision. We don’t fuck with spiders.”
“As you wish.” He turns to mist and floats up to the cabinet. “Allow me to vanquish this beast.”
Once he reaches the mugs, he lifts the boot in his hand and says, “There you are,” just before he slams the heel down onto the shelf. The shelf snaps in half, the rest of mugs and saucers sliding down into the crack. Winston launches himself away from the cabinets, landing at my side. As the mugs tumble onto the shelf below, it, too, breaks, and the rest of the shelves follow suit. The shelves hit the counter, then fall to the floor in a raucous clatter, the ceramic shattering into tiny pieces. One of the cabinet doors falls on top of the pile, the other dangling by a single weak hinge.
“Jesus, Winston!” I shout, horrified by the destruction. “I asked you to kill a spider, not make it look like we dropped a grenade in here.”
He shifts into his corporeal form, his face frozen in ayikesexpression. “I didn’t hit it hard enough to wreck the cabinet.”
I sigh. “Did you kill the spider, at least?”
He looks down at his boots, then lifts each one to examine the soles. “Shit. I don’t know.”
“Fantastic. What the fuck am I supposed to tell Lindsay?” My head is pounding so hard I assume Winston can hear it. “This is a disaster.”
“There it is,” Winston hollers, leaping over the pile of wood and glass and coming down hard. He lifts his left boot and smiles. “Got it.” When he shoots me a proud grin, I’m only slightly relieved.
After he wipes the spider guts off his boot, he picks up the broken shelves, looking closely at each one. “See this here?” he brings a board toward me, pointing at the edge, where the paint has been stripped, several layers of wood gone, and there are little holes going almost completely through to the other side. “Looks like termite damage.”
“Oh god, termite damage?” My gaze roams around the room, and bile rises in my throat at the thought of termites feasting on every piece of wood in this gigantic mansion. “If they’re in here, they’re probably everywhere, right?”
He nods, his brows pinched together. “Yes, that’s likely.” Bringing his hand in front of his face, he flexes his fingers before curling them into a fist. “That explains how the shelves broke so easily.”
When his lips form a slight frown, I can’t help but chuckle. “Did you think you suddenly gained the strength of an Avenger? Are you hiding a magic hammer somewhere under that billowy shirt?”
He jerks back, looking wounded. “Well, I certainly have more strength than the average man. Have I not proven that to you yet?”
He did mention throwing a car across the lawn at some point, didn’t he? I doubt he was lying about that. Teasing him is just too amusing to resist, though. I pat him on the shoulder. “Of course. You’re a big, tough guy, okay? The biggest and toughest I’ve ever seen.”
