“Your turn.”
She rushed in and sorted through the outfits, which seemed to fall under two categories: wenchy and wenchier.Well, when in Rome. She grabbed a white chemise that dipped down over the shoulders, then pulled on a green layered skirt, which she tied up to her knee. Taking out her phone in lieu of a mirror, she saw her bra was too high over the neckline. Off it came, and she searched for a corset that opened in the back to have an excuse for Nico to lace her up—a fantasy originating with her first foray into historical romance—but came up empty-handed. Damn. She found a little brown leather corset that tied in the front. It took a few tries, but soon she had it at the perfect tightness to snatch her waist in and hike her boobs up like a shelf. She tugged the neckline down a smidge, checked her phone again, then gave the chemise a mighty yank.
Perfect. Luckily, she’d worn sandals so she didn’t have to worry about sneakers ruining the look, although she hoped Nico would be looking higher than her feet.
Valerie flung open the tent flaps and stepped out, feeling unnaturally bouncy and swinging the voluminous skirt with her hands. It had pockets! Nico was looking at the main road. “Do you think—” He turned and stumbled over his next words.
This was exactly the response she wanted. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“You are.” Nico collected himself and took the hand she’d extended palm down to kiss the back. His lips were firm on her skin, but the contact sent pulses up her arm. His fingers stroked her wrist, makingher tremble. Bent over her hand, Nico looked up and met her gaze. He didn’t look away, and neither did she.
She wanted him. That’s all there was to it, and it wasn’t only a physical response to a tormentingly hot man. She liked him too. Nico made her feel safe. The problem was that while she was sure he liked her at the moment, she also knew how she could grate on people over time. How everyone, including her own parents, at some point found other people they liked better, no matter how hard she tried. She didn’t want to feel that pain with Nico. The flirting was fun, extremely fun, but she was hesitant about what would happen when he’d had enough.
Especially given what he’d said about his sister, as much as he’d tried to walk it back.
The singing got louder as the crowd joined in, and Nico held out his arm. “Shall we?”
In the evening the faire was almost dreamlike, with tiki lights and torches illuminating small tents decorated with medieval banners and selling jewelry, clothes, and food. Valerie wanted to go every direction at once.
“Are you hungry?” Nico asked.
“I’d love to look around first.”
Valerie soon understood that her admiration of Nico and his outfit had not been a subjective thing. It was clearly objective, as people gave him lingering looks as they walked through the tents. She was self-aware enough to find it amusing that she was getting territorial, but weak enough not to fight it. She made sure to keep his arm in hers.
He didn’t seem to mind and brought her in closer. “It’s crowded,” he said as an excuse. “We don’t want to get separated.”
Like she was going to argue.
Apart from the minor distraction of trying to catch glimpses of Nico’s ass in those pants—she’d seen him in a swimsuit, but this was a lateral and ruinous tier of sexy—Valerie found the faire endlessly interesting. Sparksflew from a blacksmith’s forge as her hammer rang down on the dagger she was shaping. A man knotted a net near a woman working leather into what looked like shoulder guards. Away from the main action, a woman dressed in a flowing red gown monitored the fenced-off archery area.
“Give it a shot,” she said as she held out a few arrows. Hay bales painted with targets sat about five meters away.
“Do you know how?” Nico asked Valerie.
“No, but how hard can it be?” She’d watched theLord of the Ringsextended edition. She grabbed a bow.
“You’ve got it backward,” said Nico. He turned to the woman running the booth as if to check to see if she wanted to step in, and she gestured that he was free to help.
Then, as God was her witness, Nico stepped behind her and reached around to adjust her grip. Valerie melted, encased in his strong arms. When she looked over at the woman running the booth, desperately needing someone to witness this movie-perfect moment, the woman had both hands to her face to cover her grin of total delight.
But Nico was set on making sure she didn’t embarrass herself at the Ren faire archery range, so she did her best to pay attention to what he was saying instead of the way he felt pressed against her. She also did her best not to push her hips into him, but man, it was hard.
Too hard. She gave in to the teensiest of test grinds and felt a surge of triumph when she heard his quick inhale. Sometimes her impulsivity had benefits.
“Draw the bow until it’s at your cheek,” he said in a slightly choked voice. She listened instead of teasing as he helped her pull it back, because this thing was legitimately difficult. “Then aim for the target and let go.”
She released the arrow, expecting a recoil that never came, and watched as the arrow arced beautifully under the lights to land barely two meters on its path. “Dang. You try.”
Nico took her place after shucking off his jacket. She watched avidly as he pulled back the bow, muscles flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt, and let the arrow go. She didn’t move her eyes from his arms until he turned with a small smile—in Nico-speak, this was swaggering pride—as the vendor said, “Bull’s-eye.”
“You’re kidding.” She squinted to where the arrow sat in the center of the target. “Nico. That’s amazing.”
“The best we’ve had so far,” said the vendor, coming up to admire the shot. “I have to be honest, this isn’t the best-quality equipment. Most people can barely reach the bales.”
“Just luck.”
He was so modest. Valerie would have been demanding congratulations from everyone in the vicinity. Nico seemed quietly happy to have done well.
