But she couldn’t help wondering if he’d lost so much joy for another reason. Why did he shut down any time he tried to have a moment of fun with her? What was his reason for letting no one but Beastie close to him?
She made her way back into the kitchen, where she puttered around cleaning until Beastie asked to be let in.
Her mind was still buzzing withwhat ifsand she didn’t want to sleep, but Beastie would wake her early in the morning, so perhaps it was for the best if she did. She was curled up in her nest, having finally settled enough to become drowsy, when the door creaked quietly, and soft footsteps followed. She opened her eyes just enough to see Roan creeping in with a small candle and his dirty plate from dinner.
She smiled to herself at the picture he made before noticing the candlelight flickering off his bare chest.
Looking away would be the proper thing to do.
But perhaps she wasn’t always proper.
With no one to witness her impropriety, she allowed herself to take a moment and look at how finely shaped he was while he poured himself some water. She’d met many men while wandering with her father and in the course of her time at the tavern—some burly, some brawny, some slender, some…not slender.
Roan looked like the kind who worked hard and enjoyed it but didn’t spend all his time concerned with the way he looked.
That was her favorite kind.
She closed her eyes and heat flooded her face. She shouldn’t be looking at Roan like that. He was her employer and looking at him like that was not something she should be doing…even if he looked fantastic.
And having thoughts like that were certainly not proper.
She squeezed her eyes shut tighter as he walked past, hoping he wouldn’t see that she had looked at him.
“Good night,” he whispered quietly as he left the room.
She didn’t answer.
The tavern was filled with joy when she opened her eyes, that rose gold light giving everything an extra glow. The fiddle played again, the drinks poured freely, and no one was in a bad mood. Even the old men sitting at the back table were being talkative.
Conrad sat in his usual place at the end of the bar, and he smiled as she refilled his tankard.
“Good evening,” he said. “Did you have a good day?”
“I did,” Abigail said. “It was fine.” Perhaps it had been a confusing day, but a good day nonetheless, and she didn’t need to burden Conrad with all her difficult feelings regarding Roan. He had no business hearing all of it, and frankly, she didn’t want him to think badly of Roan when Roan hadn’t done anything wrong besides being awkward, which wasn’t really his fault.
Well, it was, but it wasn’t.
She settled on saying, “It was a fine day.”
Conrad raised his eyes. “You already said that,” he pointed out.
“Oh, I did.” Her cheeks turned pink. “I apologize. I’m scattered tonight.”
“That’s allowed. What’s on your mind?” he asked.
“Not much,” Abigail said, even though that was a complete lie. There were a million things on her mind—whether Conrad and the others were going to be okay after this curse was over, whether she and Roan would be okay, if Roan was going to ask her to dance again in this dream world—or if she should be brave enough to ask him.
She couldn’t imagine being bold enough to do that herself, but perhaps it would be the only way to get him to dance with her again. She’d been surprised that he’d done so the first night, and she wasn’t sure he’d do it again.
“I see you’re far away,” Conrad said.
Abigail flung a towel over her shoulder and moved down the bar, away from Conrad and his way of seeing right through her. “I suppose I am,” she said, looking down. “It’s been an interesting couple of days.”
“I’ll say,” Conrad said. “I don’t think I’ve left the tavern in three days.”
Abigail raised an eyebrow, hoping he’d elaborate without her having to say anything.
“I’m sorry—I don’t know why I said that,” Conrad said with a laugh. “It’s just an odd feeling that I had. Also, youchanged your dress back, which is probably why it feels like it’s been longer than a day.”
