Maybe there was even an article in it.Twelve Ways to Eat Your Feelings in Girdwood Springs While Trying to Locate a Shirt’s Sexy Owner.It had a kind of Cinderella glass-slipper appeal to it, she supposed.
“C’mon, Fillmore,” she said, draining the last of her tea and standing up. “Enough moping. Let’s go get paid to eat something delicious.”
Fillmore wagged his scraggly tail in assent, and together they headed out through the door, Luna studiously trying to ignore the shirt that was stuffed in her bag. She could practically feel it burning against her side, and her face flushed in response.
Walking back down the corridor, she had a sudden flash of inspiration: what if Henrywasstill here? What if he had just popped out for a minute to check out the rest of the house, or come looking for her, or indulge in a little naked ping pong? This housedidhave a lot of rooms in it, after all – maybe he’d just gone for a little wander. It made more sense than his having disappeared into thin air, anyway, or deciding to wander into the wilderness without so much as a goodbye or even a shirt.
She took a circuitous route through the first floor of the house, peeking into the common rooms, deflating just a little more with each failure. The house was completely empty.
There was nothing for it. She would just have to go do that pesky little thing known as a ‘job’, and hope that she would run into him there, and that there would be an explanation less soul-crushing thanI couldn’t stand you so much that I chose to leave without my clothes rather than talk to you again.
Cutting back through the kitchen, she almost jumped out of her skin as she saw a tall figure peering into the oven – but her excitement dissipated before it ever even got the chance to fully build.
It wasn’t Henry. For one thing, Henry wasn’t a woman, which this person definitely was. For another thing, it was the one other person in Girdwood Springs who Luna knew by name. More or less.
“Natasha!” she exclaimed, hoping that her happiness didn’t sound too forced. “What are you doing here? I mean… obviously,it’s your house. But I thought you would be at the festival with everyone else?”
“Unfortunately, the oven light chose today to stop working, so I’m getting that sorted out,” Natasha said, straightening up. “Just doing a bit of troubleshooting.”
“I didn’t know you were into fixing appliances,” Luna said, jumping at the chance for a distraction from her woes. “Though I guess youdidrenovate this house, so you must be knowledgeable about these things.”
“Oh yeah, I’m a complete expert in oven repair,” Natasha said with a smile. “Got my degree from YouTube U. Currently working on my PhD inOven Cleaning Hacks: What the Professionals Don’t Want You to Know.”
Luna smiled back. “So you teach yourself everything, then? I’m kind of jealous, to be honest. My home handyman skills are, shall we say, lacking.”
“Well, we call an expert if there’s anything actually dangerous that needs doing. But otherwise, we try and do everything ourselves. This house is like our baby, so we want to look after it.” Natasha screwed up her nose. “Is that weird? It’s a little weird.”
“No, it’s not weird at all!” Luna laughed. “I think it’s great to have something you’re passionate about. Especially when you’ve obviously done such an amazing job.”
“You’re too kind,” Natasha said warmly. “But seriously, most of this stuff isn’t actually hard – you just have to find out what to do.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Luna replied, only a little dubiously. She didn’t doubt that Natasha meant well, but she hadn’t seen Luna’s attempt at fixing a Venetian blind! The poor thing had been in such a state by the end of it that she’d ended up having to fork out more money getting it replaced than the repair would’ve cost to begin with.
Fillmore wiggled in her arms, and she popped him on the floor, leaving him to potter about the room. He promptly found a sunbeam in the corner and curled up in it, like a cat.
“Anyway,” Natasha went on, “what brings you here? I would’ve thought you’d be at the festival, sampling all the local delights. Or did you come back here so you could sleep it off before starting back up again? I could never be a food writer – I’d stuff myself so full that I’d end up in a permanent food coma.” She sighed in good-natured exasperation. “It’s bad enough that the local businesses give me more free samples than I know what to do with – for each one I give to my guests, another three appear. And it would be a shame to waste them, so… what choice do I have but to eat them?”
Luna nodded solemnly. “Clearly, as a good global citizen and preventer of food wastage, it’s your job – no, yourduty– to eat all the delicious food put in front of you.”
“Ah, I see you are a woman of high morals.”
“The highest.” Luna grinned. “It’s shockingly easy to stick to them when there’s delicious food involved.”
“I guess so,” Natasha laughed. “Anyway, what brings you back here in the middle of the day? Is there anything you need that I can help you with?”
“Um,” Luna said, wondering how exactly to explain what had just happened. She didn’t feel like she could just come out with it without seeming weird, but nor could she seem to come up with a good story either, the winds of complete blankness howling across the barren tundra of her mind.
“Well,” she said slowly, realizing she’d probably just have to come out with it. “You won’t believe this, but I’m looking for a tall, muscular, incredibly hot man with no shirt. You haven’t, ah, seen him around, have you?”
Natasha, to her credit, didn’t look quite as confused as she might have. “I did –” Luna’s heart leaped up into her throat “–but I don’t think it’s Kieran you’re looking for. And hedidput on a shirt before he left for work, so… probably not him. Well, I hope.”
“Ah,” Luna murmured.
“There’s a disproportionately high number of hot guys in Girdwood Springs, I’ve found,” Natasha went on. “What’s the deal with yours? Maybe I can help you out.”
“Maybe,” Luna said vaguely. “I just brought him back here to wash his shirt because I accidentally got cake all over it.” She looked up at Natasha, expecting to see disbelief on her face, but she was nodding along as if this kind of thing happened every day. And who knew – maybe in Girdwood Springs, it did. This town seemed to be full of secrets… but nice ones, like impossibly delicious cake and incredibly good-looking men.
Encouraged, she went on. “But he was gone when I got back to my room, and now, well, I have his shirt.” She indicated her bag, where the shirt was still peeping out. “And… I want to find him. To give him his shirt.”
