With my head full of too many sins, I blinked the thought away, though it was enticing. With how easygoing Laken acted, I wasn’t too sure he’d be into such things, but I had an idea his passion might take him.
His gaze met mine and I pretended I hadn’t been thinking of him naked. His eyes, encompassing ardor and intenselonging, couldn’t stop tracing my body where I stood, as if in a trance. Glancing down at myself, I shifted under the skirt of my dress and even checked that my shoes were on the right feet. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary or special in any particular way…
I darted my eyes around aimlessly and rocked back on my heels. “What?”
Laken’s mouth parted, but no words came out. He gripped the counter. Licking his lips, he closed his mouth and kind of… grinned, as if he needed to memorize my very being in that exact moment. “Three years apart and I still can’t breathe when I look at you.”
A blush beat my cheeks while my lips thinned. Slowly stepping closer to him, I relished his admiration. It wouldn’t matter coming from anybody else, but… “You’d think I hung the moon.”
His hand cupped my cheek, and my chest fluttered.
Laken, to me, was like a house that held up during a storm that should’ve brought it crumbling. “I think you could’ve.”
I guessed some people found beauty in the storm.
Splashing erupted behind us and I debated having fish for dinner.Kidding, of course. “Gordon,” my raised voice dragged with each flop on the floor.
Laken laughed, handed me the net, and set off to grab the cart with Moon. Plopping the fish back into his bowl, I prayed he didn’t jump out while we were gone, since we’d get home pretty late. Laken’s father had promised to come keep an eye on the place. He’d been around enough to be comfortable andwas more than capable of protecting it, if needed. The market occurred in Sky Hollow, a town a couple of hours east of Honey Brooke, bordering the coast—which called for the cart and Moon.
Hearing them arrive outside, I scuttled past Blaze and Gordon, the old couch and rocker, the stairs and chairs, and finally sprung myself outside.
Unfortunately, with another flash of red, I was greeted with another debt reminder. This time the rallow was already leaving, and I picked the delivery up from the ground. Inhaling sharply, I read the words, “Final notice.”
“Are you ready?” Laken’s voice called me out of my daze.
“Yes, I’m coming.” My shaking hands folded the paper up and left it on the porch. No point in ruining a perfectly good day; it wasn’t as if I needed the reminder anyway. I knew we’d entered the single-digit days.
I hopped in the seat of the cart, sitting up on my knees to watch him double-check the load. “You got everything?”
“I think so.” He bounced a finger over the tops of the crates, counting the jars of cream, the baskets of eggs, and the jugs of goat milk. Walking to Moon, he patted his gray dappled horse and pulled on her reins and halter to check it, too. “Alright,” he dragged out until he stood at the steps of the cart. “Let’s go.”
Taking the reins and sitting by my side, Laken led us on our way. Leaving Honey Brooke behind, a strange string pulled at my gut. I hadn’t left our little corner of the world since returning to it weeks ago. Going back to the marketafter so much time had passed, going back to my roots didn’t even describe it. I’d completely reentered my childhood.
Nonetheless, the goal today was to sell as much as possible. We’d brought enough supplies. I prayed for the best.
Hours passed, and a lightly salted breeze floated around us, heavy with scents of the sea and its sun. Small cobblestone roads widened, broad enough for carriages and horses to fit through without jamming the flow. Whereas the sun had been hiding behind clouds on our journey, it beamed on the town, claiming it under its rays. Roofs of black shingles sparkled to look like sand; metal latches and keys mirrored the shine. Large trade ships lined the docks with blanketing sails, people moved along with wide black hats and bandannas. The closer we came, the more I saw the jewels they wore and the crates they carried. Some were armed to the teeth and the others looked like they didn’t need to be.
While there were a few smaller two-person canoes, the ones catching my attention were guarded with swords the likes of which I’d never seen, and their sails, the black dahlia…
I knew they were either royals or worked for them.
People of all different fashions walked about, some dressed brighter than the stars and others wearing hardly anything at all. Creatures flew around, birds of greens and blues, scaled or with flames following through the air on their feathers. A man in a brown trench coat walked past sporting a fur scarf that indeed wasn’t a scarf at all. It slithered around his neck and its nostrils flared, sniffing for something. Even more than what I’d remembered, it was everything I loved—the chaos.
That’s what the market meant to me—everything I’d never have. Places I’d never go. Creatures I’d never even read about. Magic I couldn’t have imagined if I’d wanted to. And to think, some of these folks wantedmyhealing cream. Dassin goats were a rare commodity, and difficult to come by. We’d been lucky to save ours before poachers took them.
Laken pulled the reins and directed us to a corner booth with a wooden sign hanging from the table readingReserved: McCarthen’s. A thin, sheer brown sheet hung over it, shielding us from the scorching heat.
“Alright, McCarthen.” Laken hopped out from the cart, moving toward the horse. “Get out and start putting those hands to use.”
I held my hands out, studying them carefully. “You mean I have to get my hands dirty?”
Laken grinned, tipping his head back and squinting. “I’ve seen your hands do worse.” He untied Moon and led her back behind the booth, where a stable started and continued the length of the market’s alley. “I’ll put them to work later, too, if you’d prefer.”
Frowning, I shrugged. “They’ll be too tired.”
“What a shame,” he yelled and walked off, leaving me by my lonesome.
As much as I loved watching him walk the other way, my eyes rolled as I jumped down from my high horse. Unloading crate after crate, I kept a keen eye on the table between my trips. People would steal anything if given the opportunity. I wouldn’t call myself much of a fighter, but I could wranglesome stragglers if I needed to. (I absolutely, most likely, could not.)
