The stack grows to a genuinely alarming height, threatening to topple from the small table.
“This is your definition of light?” I stare at titles ranging fromAdvanced Botanical AlchemytoBoundary Ward Recalibration: Theory and Practice.
“You will acclimate to the workload,”he says with supreme confidence.“The Thorne bloodline has always been quick to absorb necessary knowledge.”
“I seriously doubt that,” I say, brushing accumulated dust from my palms. I shift to cross my legs more comfortably on the worn rug. If this is what the Thornes have accomplished for generations, then I will master it too. Even if I have to pour everypiece of information into my resistant brain, one painstaking page at a time.
The cheerful bell over the shop door chimes below, pulling my focus away from the intimidating mountain of required reading. Both Sir and I lean forward simultaneously, peering down over the ornate loft railing.
Maceo stands just inside the shop. Wearing his work shirt from the auto shop, sleeves rolled up to reveal corded forearms that are genuinely unfair in their appeal. “Full Moon Auto Parts” is stitched neatly across his broad chest in silver thread. His thick black hair is pulled back into a tight knot at the base of his skull, though a few rebellious curls have escaped to curl against the strong column of his neck.
He looks up at us, and sweet Lord, it’s simply unfair how devastatingly good this man looks even after what was clearly a long day of physical labor.
When he smiles, something inside my chest tips sideways and refuses to right itself.
“Miss Keisha,” he calls up with easy warmth. “I’ve been looking all over town for you.”
“Well, I’m above you,” I say before my brain can engage and stop my mouth from saying something ridiculous.
He laughs, the sound low and genuinely amused. “I can definitely see that, beautiful.”
I rise carefully, dusting off my leggings as I make my way down the spiral staircase one deliberate step at a time. Sir follows without comment, moving with the quiet authority of someone accustomed to supervising important proceedings.
“I see you’ve wasted absolutely no time diving into the deep end,” Maceo says, glancing up toward the loft and taking in the overwhelming stacks of books with an amused but approving glance
“Might as well start somewhere productive,” I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel and definitely ignoring the fact that he called me beautiful. “I don’t exactly know how I’m going to accomplish all of this, but I’m damn well going to try.”
He holds my gaze a moment longer than strictly necessary, his head tilting slightly in a way that reminds me of Sir’s earlier assessment. He’s clearly taking stock of my mental state, probably wondering if I’m going to bolt from town screaming in panic like some overwhelmed city girl.
“That’s exactly what we’re here for,” he says with simple sincerity. “To help however you’ll let us.”
Sir brushes against Maceo’s jean-clad leg with obvious approval, a gesture that speaks volumes.
Maceo looks down at the elegant cat with genuine respect. “Well, hello there, Sir. I don’t suppose he’s talking to you yet?”
“He is,” I confirm, unable to suppress a small smile. Of course, I’m sure the entire town knows about Sir. “He’s the Thorne familiar, apparently.”
Maceo gives a low whistle of impressed recognition. “Well damn. I guess that makes it completely official then.”
Sir’s familiar voice slides smoothly into my thoughts, carrying centuries of accumulated wisdom. “The Wolf comes from good, strong pack bloodlines. His family has never dishonored this town or its values. I have always held him in high regard.”
I can’t help but smirk at the formal endorsement. “Apparently you passed inspection with flying colors.”
Maceo raises one dark eyebrow with obvious amusement. “I’ll definitely take that as a victory. Now, I actually came here for a specific reason.”
He explains that the alternator was indeed the culprit behind my car troubles, just as he’d suspected. It was a relatively straightforward fix that took him less than an hour to completeproperly. My car is already parked safely back at Thorne Manor. He wanders slowly around the shop, his practiced eye taking in details I probably haven’t even noticed yet.
When I ask what I owe him for the repair work, he waves off the question with casual dismissal.
“Don’t even worry about it,” he says, turning to face me again with that easy confidence I’m beginning to recognize.
I know I shouldn’t pick this particular moment to get overwhelmed by the mounting pile of kindnesses people keep showing me, but I can feel myself spiraling toward dangerous ‘this is all way too much’ territory.
“If I can’t pay you properly,” I blurt out, grasping for something, anything, I might be able to control in this situation, “then I can at least cook dinner for you.”
I haven’t eaten since this morning, now that I think about it, but the realization barely registers with everything else I’ve faced today.
His appealing grin widens appreciatively. “Well, I can definitely eat.”
