“No, he’s not from around here. Well, he is, but he’s… private.” I shifted uncomfortably, feeling like I was betraying Rion somehow by discussing him, even vaguely.
“Mysterious,” Mark commented with a half-smile. “Well, I won’t keep you from your baking. Any chance you know someone else with a ladder?”
I was about to suggest the building superintendent when a movement in the hallway caught my eye. A large figure stood by the stairwell, partially obscured by shadow.
My heart leapt. Rion.
He stepped forward slightly, and I could see he was wearing his usual “public” disguise—wide-brimmed hat pulled low, voluminous coat despite the mild spring weather. But his distinctive height and presence were unmistakable to me now.
“Rion!” I called out, pleasure washing through me. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”
He approached with that measured grace that still amazed me, given his size. “I finished early,” he said, his deep voice measured. “Thought I might surprise you.”
I beamed at him, then turned to make introductions. “Mark, this is Rion. Rion, my neighbor Mark.”
Mark extended his hand with easy sociability. “Nice to meet you, man.”
Rion hesitated almost imperceptibly before taking Mark’s hand in a brief, careful shake. “Likewise.”
I watched the exchange with a strange fluttering in my stomach. Two worlds colliding—my ordinary life and my extraordinary new reality. Mark looked positively diminutive next to Rion, though he was probably six feet tall himself.
“Mark needs a ladder,” I explained to Rion. “Smoke detector issues.”
Something flashed in Rion’s eyes—recognition, perhaps, of the irony that had brought us together.
“I have several,” Rion said, his tone neutral. “Various heights and load capacities.”
Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That would be amazing if I could borrow one.”
“I could bring one by tomorrow,” Rion offered, though something in his voice seemed oddly flat.
I studied him more closely, noticing a subtle tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there moments before. His posture was rigid, almost defensive, and he’d positioned himself slightly closer to me than was strictly necessary for casual conversation.
“That’s really generous,” Mark said, apparently oblivious to any undercurrents. “Thanks, man.” He turned to me with a warm smile. “Looks like you found yourself a handy guy after all, Clara.”
I felt a flush rise to my cheeks. “I did.”
“Lucky you.” Mark’s tone was light, but there was something in his gaze—a brief, appraising look that traveled between Rion and me—that made me wonder if he was only now realizing he might have missed an opportunity with me.
“Well, I should let you get back to your baking,” Mark said, backing away. “Thanks for the ladder offer, Rion. I’m in 3A whenever you have time.”
“I’ll bring it tomorrow afternoon,” Rion replied, his deep voice even but with a subtle rumble underneath that I was learning to recognize as emotion carefully contained.
“Perfect. Nice meeting you.” Mark gave a casual wave and headed down the hallway.
I turned to Rion with a smile, ready to express my delight at his surprise visit, but the words died on my lips when I saw his expression. Or rather, the lack of it. His face had gone completely impassive, almost mask-like.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Is everything okay?” I asked, stepping back to let Rion into the apartment.
He entered with a nod but said nothing, removing his hat once the door was safely closed behind him. His magnificent horns curved upward, catching the afternoon light streaming through my windows.
“I was just finishing up the brownies for tomorrow,” I said, trying to fill the sudden silence. “Want to taste the batter?”
“If you like,” he replied, following me to the kitchen.
His monosyllabic responses were setting off little warning bells in my head. This wasn’t just Rion being his usual reserved self; this was something different.
