“You’re in my seat.”
“I don’t see your name on it.”
“It’s my cabin.”
“It’s your porch. The chair is communal property.”
I sat on the railing. Wood creaked beneath me and the last of the daylight caught the copper roots peeking through her darkhair. The dye was already fading. Another week and the disguise would be useless.
Good. I hated the disguise.
We settled into silence, and the silence eventually went back to a conversation about the investigation. I don’t really mind, as long as I get to talk with her.
“The bird,” she suddenly said.
The shift in topic caught me off guard. “What bird?”
“The raven that lands on your windowsill. It comes at weird hours and you talk to it.” She tilted her head, studying my face. “It had a pouch with a wax seal tied to its leg last Tuesday. I saw it from the kitchen window.” A pause. “Firefighters don’t get mail delivered by trained ravens, Lucian. And firefighters don’t own hand-stitched leather furniture or books that look older than this country.”
“The bird is a rescue,” I said. “Comes back sometimes. Old habits. And the furniture was inherited.”
“Inherited from who?” Her eyes narrowed. “Your parents must be loaded. Because nothing in this cabin matches a firefighter’s salary. Not even close.”
“Something of that nature.”
Her expression didn’t shift but her eyes did. I know she doesn’t believe me and has formed a theory in her head, answers to her questions. Whatever makes sense in her perspective.
Mira is elusive and untrusting. She’s also smart. Perhaps she’s getting to the truth.
And maybe I won’t hate that.
“I know you’re not going to tell me tonight,” she said quietly. “And I know you have your reasons.” She turned on the chair to face me. “But I’m done pretending I don’t notice.”
“Then don’t pretend.”
“I won’t.”
My wolf pressed inside my ribs, aching.
She wasright there.
Five inches of space between my knee and her shoulder, and every instinct I possessed screamed to close the gap.
The fading light caught the curve of her bare knee where she’d pulled it to her chest, and I tracked the line of it. My grip tightened on the railing. She was close enough that her warmth bled across the distance, and my blood registered every inch she wasn’t touching.
“Whenever you’re ready to know,” I said, “you can just ask. The answers are yours.”
The words sat between us. An open door. A key she could pocket and use whenever she chose to turn it.
She searched my face. I let her look. Let her hunt for the lie, the deflection, the catch. She wouldn’t find one because I hadnothing left to hide from this woman except the truth itself, and that belonged to her the moment she wanted it.
“Not tonight,” she said.
“If you say so,” I agreed.
Stars filled the sky and the temperature dropped. Somewhere inside the cabin, I heard Percy arrive at the front door.
When she finally stood to go inside, her hand brushed mine on the railing. Brief and unintentional. Every nerve in my body fired at once, and my hand tightened on the wood to keep from reaching for hers. Heat bloomed from the point of contact and raced up my forearm.
