I was stunned. I shook my head.“Please don’t,”I whispered.
Cyrus stepped back. “As you command it,” he said.
Then he cleared his throat and went toward the horses again, pulling a blanket from one of the rolls and snapping it into shape onto the ground. He was quiet as he set up some sort of camp, and as I watched him fluff the cloth a second time, my chest seized.
Iwantedhim to want to kiss me, I realized.
There was a sourness at the back of my throat. I swallowed it, then looked away, then found his apparition again, and lost a breath.
He glanced at me for it but strolled a little further, spreading a few sealed containers out onto the mat, creating the perfect foreground to the farm’s still-standing, but long-forgotten fence.
“You’ve… I don’t understand. You’ve constructed us a picnic?” I asked.
“Eh, it’s just cheese and wine,” he said. “I hope that’s alright?”
“You broughtwine?”I asked. “...Red or white?”
“I’m serving cheese. It’s white,” he said.
I bit my lip and dropped to the blanket as if the words were my command. “You’ll see I am smiling,” I said, lifting my chin to show.
“Aye, I see. And?” He opened the bottle, though didn’t produce a glass. “Are you a fan of cheese?”
“I am,” I said. “But, I was referring more to the promise we made.”
“Promise?” he asked. After a second he shook his head. “No, I know better than you promiseyouanything.”
“Is that a commentary of some sort?” I asked.
He shook his head again. Then, curious, offered me a swig. “Ladies first.”
I took the bottle and brought it to my lips, bashfully enjoying a verylargedrink. He took his turn much prouder.
“You said if I smiled, I could ride Ice,” I told him. “I’m smiling.”
Cyrus extended his leg out abruptly and well past where I sat next to him. My eyes traveled the full length of it, up to his face, which wore a verypleased-with-himselfgrin and the other knee erected to his side. He slunk back into a leisurely lay.
“I suppose I did say that,” he said. “But it wasn’t a promise.”
“Seriously?”I asked.
He shrugged. “Do you think you can even handle her? Wild things, Eisson mares.”
I narrowed my eyes and his hands went up defensively.
“A joke,” he said.
“Has anyone ever actually called you funny?” I asked.
His lips parted, pleased. “No,” he said. “Has anyone ever called you mean?”
“Yes,” I said.
Mr. Evergreen winked. His shirt was tightly fit, and it highlighted every crevice of the muscles beneath it. So little was left to the imagination that I completely missed whatever else he said to stare at him. It was not until he repeated it that I felt my heart come back to life just to canter wildly at its return. Everything inside my body screamed to reach out andtouchhim. Hisstomach. Hisarms. His mouth. Even the knights I had leered at at practice held no torch to Cyrus Evergreen’s ring of light.
Iyearnedto feel his sun on me. To–
I could not save my brain from its obsession. It listed ten thousand reasons why Ishouldtouch him, ten thousand why I should resist, then another for why I thought he mightletme, and more for why I should not lethim,but I–
