Maybe she would convince Roan to use this time of forced productivity to finally put in a swinging door for Beastie that didn’t require a human. It wasn’t really a problem, since Beastie usually went home overnight with Roan, where they had such conveniences—she would assume—or Roan had to deal with it, not her. But this week had only proved to highlight the fact that Beastie needing to go out was an inconvenience that they could remedy relatively easily, with just a little bit of work.
And Abigail was all about doing just a little bit of work to make everything easier, especially when it could potentially allow her to get a few extra moments of sleep.
Not that she wanted this to last forever. In fact, hopefully they would break the curse soon and everything would go back to normal.
But just in case.
She stretched her arms wide and yawned as she made her way to the stove to stoke the fire so she could heat the kettle and make herself tea.
Perhaps today she could avoid walking in on a shirtless Roan. Her cheeks heated at the reminder. Maybe instead, she could find him wearing the blue coat he had worn in her dream last night.
It had been a grand coat, though it hadn’t compared to the pink dress she’d been wearing in her dream. She grinned to herself as she reached for the tea set from the crates and began washing two of the cups. It was silly to be so excited over a dress one had worn in a dream, but in her defense, it was a gorgeous dress.
Any girl would be privileged to wear it…and as soon as she tailored it, she’d be able to wear it for real.
It was hard to believe that Roan had given it to her. And if it wasn’t enough for him to give her a dress that was clearly sentimental for him, he’d shown up in her dream last night and danced with her.
Her cheeks heated at the thought. It had been a wonderful dream and would have been even if he hadn’t danced with her. The tavern had been full of light and laughter, and it was everything she had ever wanted for the tavern—
Not that it was her place to be dreaming about the Lucky Goat that way. The tavern was Roan’s, and she needed to remember that.
But it had been magical, seeing it come alive in the way she had so often thought it could.
The kettle heated before she’d washed the rest of the tea set, so she pulled out the old teapot and two mugs before the kitchen door swung open and Roan walked in.
“Good morning,” he said gruffly.
That was different.
“Good morning,” she said with a smile on her face. “I hope you slept well.”
“I slept as well as can be expected,” Roan said with a grimace, “though I did have a better dream than I usually do.”
Abigail eyed him warily. Had they shared a dream last night? She’d heard of such things happening to people who were caught in a curse together.
“What happened in your dream?” she asked, hoping that she sounded nonchalant.
“You were in it,” he responded.
“Oh?”
The door swung open and Beastie loped through, bounding toward Roan and pressing her head against his hand for attention.
“Yes,” Roan said. “You were there, and we danced.”
“That’s funny,” she said. “I had the same dream.”
Roan pretended that he didn’t find that extremely interesting. She could tell because instead of saying anything, he rolled up his sleeves and moved to the sink.
Abigail tried not to stare at his forearms. When had forearms become so interesting? It was only because he wasabout to wash dishes, she assured herself. That’s why it was so interesting—not at all because she was captivated by how his muscles moved.
“You’re washing dishes?” she asked. That was her job.
“I thought that since the only people you’ve been cooking for have been you and me, maybe I ought to help with something,” he said. “It’s not as if I’m taking care of cleanup out front, and I know cleaning is your least favorite job of everything you do here.”
Abigail tried not to warm at the thought that he’d paid that much attention to her favorite and least favorite jobs.
If he kept being so nice, she was going to start falling for him, and that was not something she needed right now.
