“Yup.” He sighed. “Whoever was there left a pile of shells. They also left them at a campsite you’d used.”
To me, it sounded a little blown out of proportion, but what did I know?
“So I should expect more interrogation tonight?”
Lucan shook his head. “I’ve made it clear that’s not acceptable. I just want you to understand if he seems distant or guarded. It’s not personal, not really.” He paused. “Just don’t run because of him.”
“I’ve dealt with difficult people before.”
“He’s not difficult, exactly. Just...” Lucan searched for the word. “Careful. To a fault.”
“I’m pretty careful myself.” I smiled. “We have that in common.”
Lucan’s expression softened. He lifted our joined hands and pressed his lips to my knuckles. The gesture was so unexpectedly tender that my breath caught.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For being here. For giving this a chance.”
The sincerity in his eyes made my throat tight. I wasn’t used to this kind of straightforward appreciation. It made me want to trust him, even as the cautious part of my brain screamed warnings about moving too fast.
“The barbecue awaits,” I deflected before my emotions got the better of me. “And I was promised a good chair.”
Lucan grinned, recognizing my retreat but not pressing. “Atlas probably set up a throne by now with cushions and a footrest.”
He tugged my hand gently, and we stepped out from under the trees toward the cabin where his family waited. I took a deep breath and prepared to face whatever came next, including a dragon-man who might not want me there.
One step at a time, I reminded myself. Just like learning to kayak. Stay centered, keep moving forward, and try not to fall in.
The fire crackled and popped, sending a spiral of sparks into the darkened sky. I settled deeper into the Adirondack chair Atlas had dragged over for me. He hadn’t built a throne exactly, though the fleece blanket draped over the armrest was a nice touch.
Dinner had been surprisingly easy. Kade grilled burgers, and Atlas had made the same potato salad from the last dinner we’dhad. The conversation had flowed without anyone forcing it, and I’d laughed more in the past two hours than I had in months.
Now the group had migrated from the deck to a fire pit by the water, chairs arranged in a loose circle. Lucan’s chair sat close enough to mine that his arm stretched along the back of it, his fingers finding the short hair at the nape of my neck. He toyed with it absently, the pads of his fingertips tracing lazy patterns against my skin. Each pass sent a quiet shiver rolling down my spine and into my stomach. I didn’t pull away.
“He sent me a fourteen-paragraph email.” Reese sat on my other side, her face animated in the firelight. “Fourteen paragraphs, Liz. Complete with links to rescue organizations and a pros-and-cons list he made in a spreadsheet.”
“For a dog?”
“Or a cat. He’s not picky. He just wants me to have, and I quote, ‘a companion for emotional enrichment.’” Reese rolled her eyes. “The kid is twenty years old and lives three hours away. He wants all the fun of a pet with zero responsibility.”
“Classic move.” I smiled. “My brother pulled that with my parents and a parrot. They still have it, but it outlived their patience by about fifteen years.”
Atlas perked up from across the fire. “What kind of parrot?”
“An African Grey named Gerald. He screams the Jeopardy theme every night at seven sharp.”
Atlas looked delighted. Kade looked horrified.
Lucan’s fingers continued their slow rhythm against my neck, and it almost felt normal. Dangerously so.
Across the fire, Zarek sat in a camp chair with his ankle crossed over his knee. He hadn’t spoken much during dinner, and he hadn’t spoken at all since we’d moved to the fire. His posture read relaxed to anyone who wasn’t paying attention.
I was paying attention.
His eyes tracked every shift in conversation, every laugh, every time Lucan’s hand moved against my hair. His gaze returned to me often enough that I felt it even when I stared into the flames and pretended that I didn’t notice.
