But she does, and she peers at me as if peeling back my wards, catching a rare glimpse of the dips and valleys carved in my heart.
“Trust me,” I say dismissively, in an attempt to take control of the narrative, “there’s nothing I want more than to be unconditionally loved by this little guy. But I’m afraid my life isn’t conducive to lambicorns.” I offer my hand. “I’m Stone Maddox, by the way.”
“Coco Higginbotham.” She shakes my hand. It’s warm, like her eyes.
“Higginbotham? That’s a mouthful.”
“Yes, it is. I’m from the Department of Zoning and Development. I’m the new magical land coordinator.”
I frown. “What exactly do you do?”
She lifts her chin and says proudly, “I review development permits, ensure projects are in harmony with the town’s environmental zoning, and act as the town’s liaison for ‘sustainable integration,’ which includes symbolic preservation of magical sites—like where the unicorns and piggycorns first showed up. And now that you have a lambicorn, I guess here, too.”
I shoot her a grin. “That’s even more of a mouthful than your last name.”
“It is,” she replies, laughing. “But it really just means I’m here to sign off on the resort.”
“Let me get you a hard hat and we’ll walk the site.”
I grab an extra hat from the trailer, but when she tries to put it on, her bun is in the way.
“Is that a pencil sticking out of your hair?”
“Yeah.” The tops of her ears redden in embarrassment. “Sometimes I do that.”
“Let me get it for you.”
I gently remove the pencil and Coco shakes out her hair. The wind catches it, and I stare, mesmerized as ebony strands flip, then spill over her shoulders.
Coco blushes, and it’s ... adorable.
Dammit.No complications. No ties. No lambicorns. No tangled emotions. I’m here to build a resort and that’s it.
“Here you go.” I hand her the pencil. “Unless there’s some other place you’d like to put this? Maybe through a buttonhole?”
“No. Thanks, though.”
“All right.” I clap my hands, inwardly scolding myself for saying something so dumb.What the hell, Stone? Does flirting now include using props like hair accessories?“Let me show you around.”
As I lead her through the construction site, she stays right beside me. “Watch your step,” I tell her as she nears a mound of clay.
She steps over it while studying the site, eyeing the machines and the men sharply. But when we get close to the building, she stops.
Coco approaches one of the beams and touches it. Tips her head like she’s listening to fairies whispering from inside the steel or something.
“You okay?”
She doesn’t respond but moves through the space, continuing to touch and tip her head.
“Ms. Higginbotham?”
She blinks, sucks in a deep inhale.
“Are. You. Okay?”
“No, I’m not.”
Please don’t vomit.The last thing I need is for her to throw up and then have the lambicorn eat it. Oh, God. I’m going to be sick.
