Got Love? Read online

  “I’m closed.”

  “I figured as much with the late hour and all. My appliances won’t be delivered until tomorrow, and as I was finishing up dinner, I noticed your lights were still on. I brought your scarf back, freshly laundered and a peace offering.” Tharin placed the scarf and a to-go cup on the counter top in front of her.

  “Hot white chocolate?” She asked, sniffing the air.

  “With whipped cream and a cherry. A little bird told me it was your favorite.”

  Accepting the cup, she took a quick sip. “Mmm. That’s good. Smart little bird. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m sorry for startling you earlier. I thought after a long day you might like to take a walk and get some fresh air, work out the kinks.”

  Kink, did he say? There was certainly a lot of that floating around in her head at the moment. Settling the candy with a fingertip, Flora took a deep breath, nervously shifting from foot to foot. “You didn’t startle me earlier. I was in too much of a hurry to pay attention to my surroundings. I’d blame the chaos that is Valentine’s, but that would be a lie. I seem to always run full steam ahead. Thank you for cleaning my scarf. I’d like to pay for your dry cleaning if you let me.”

  “I’d like a walk with a pretty fairy instead,” Tharin persisted. “I promise not to keep you long. Just to the end of the street and back. The snow stopped falling hours ago, and all that’s left is slush.”

  Scared? She would show her friends who was scared. Flora tossed the last of the conversation hearts into the vase. “Let me put these away, and I’ll lock up.”

  “No rush. Don’t forget your coat and gloves. There’s still a bite in the air,” the cupid cautioned, using the time to glance around Flora’s shop. “This is some place you have here.” He marveled at what he saw. No wonder she was the best.

  A profusion of cut flowers wrapped in brown paper sat in galvanized buckets, clear vases held forced bulbs. He saw potted herbs, mini flowers flowing from teacups, and hanging birdcages. Fairy houses and terrariums sat behind glass displays, while succulents grew on the far wall in wild abandon.

  “Ready?” the fairy asked, yellow hat and scarf in place as she began cutting off the lights.

  “You have an enchanted touch, Flora Hawthorne.” Tharin held the door open for her. “Your place is lovely.”

  Blushing, Flora turned the lock behind them, pocketing the keys. Using the excuse of their presence to keep her hand snug in her pocket instead of swaying loosely by her side, while the other clutched her hot chocolate instead of Tharin’s body like she wanted.

  “Thank you. It’s a labor of love.”

  “One you do very well,” Tharin complimented. “What other talents do you have?”

  “Talents? I’m afraid there are none, unless you count talking. I excel at oral communications.” Flora heard herself answer, before choking on the next sip of her hot chocolate. Snapdragon! Could she not keep a decent thought in her head and control over her tongue? It seemed to have developed a naughty side since running into Tharin. “Though I obviously need more work at keeping it civil! I’m having a hard time filtering my thoughts in your presence.”

  “I find it delightful and will take it as a compliment that my presence encourages impure thoughts. It would seem great minds think alike. There are certainly more than a few crossing my mind at the moment.”

  “Sweet marigolds.” Flora blushed, changing the subject, eager to keep the conversation going in a milder direction she was more comfortable with. “So, what brings you to Peabody?”

  “I was in need of a change of scenery. I’d been in Europe a century too long and needed something different. When the offer of working in the States came up, I couldn’t refuse.”

  “A century, wow, and how old are you exactly?” Flora asked.

  Fae tended to stop aging after they’d reached the mature age of twenty-five. Old age would eventually catch up to them a few thousand years later. But until then, their bodies were frozen in time.

  “I just celebrated my two hundred and thirtieth year.”

  “Congrats.” Flora smiled.

  “And you? I wouldn’t ask,but…”

  “You’re not from around here and need to get your bearings. I don’t mind telling you. I’ll be twenty-six this May.”

  “One hundred and twenty-six?” Tharin clarified.

  “Nope. Just plain, two-six.” She shook her head, refusing to be self-conscious.

  “You’re just a baby!” Tharin exclaimed.

  Flora was well aware how rare it was to meet a fae-kin as young as she was. Fae offspring were few and far between. “I’ll have you know that in earth years, I’m nearing middle age.” She laughed. “In a few years I’ll be over the hill.”

  “And your friends?”

  “We were all born the same year. Peabody enjoyed quite the population boom. Human and fae-kin were popping out all over the place.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Not really,” Flora confessed. “So, um, how long do you think you’ll be staying in Peabody?”

  “As long as there’s something worth staying for, I’ll be here.”

  “Good,” Flora finally answered, swallowing audibly. Her heart was pounding and her hormones were keeping pace. “Peabody’s a good place to put down roots,” she said, recalling Fia’s earlier words.

  Chapter 6

  “That’s what I’m counting on. What else can you tell me about Peabody?” About yourself, Tharin wanted to say, but now he was afraid of rushing her. He hadn’t lied when he said she was just a baby. There was a huge age difference between them even for fae. Most didn’t even start considering a serious relationship until they were at least a hundred. Heck, he knew plenty of couples who refused to marry until they had reached five hundred. When time passed more slowly, there wasn’t any need to make hasty decisions, and he refused to put Flora in that position for his personal gain. Though from her middle age stance, he could see she considered age as quick a progression as humans did and he intended to use that to his advantage.

  “It’s a great place to live. There’s plenty to do year round. Runa, she’s the assistant town manager. Her boss, Jackson, along with the Mayor, and city council work hard to make sure of that. Just past the square, on Sawyer Street, there’s a set of vacant lots they use for roller-skating in the summer and ice-skating in the winter. I’ve been so busy this year I haven’t had time to go. In the spring and fall, Hawthorne Farm offers a seasonal u-pick area. Strawberries, apples, and a petting zoo. Pumpkin patch with hayrides, Christmas trees, and hot chocolate.” She smiled again, lifting her nearly empty cup to her lips.

  “Hawthorne? Your family?” he asked, like he didn’t know.

  “Cousins. And believe me, there are a ton of them.”

  “Makes sense. The Hawthorne is a symbol of fertility and rebirth.”

  “My dad is kind of the Green Man,” she answered on a wince. “He’s very prolific in his number of offspring, doing his best to live up to his legend. My mom is Orlaith, fairy Queen of the Gorse. And together, tada, you get Flora, gorse fairy.”

  “Royalty!” Tharin whistled, impressed.

  “I don’t put much emphasis on it really and neither have my parents,” Flora said. “So please don’t make a big deal of it, okay. I have plenty of older cousins on either side whose other parent is just as notable. Just no pure siblings I can claim yet.”

  Tharin nodded with complete understanding. Only full blood siblings are worthy to be called brother and sister. Halves are relegated to cousin status to keep things from getting confusing. Not to make light or discount the family blood one shared, but when fae could live for ten thousand years or more, it paid to whittle the excess branched from the family tree to keep things simple. Fae-kin were not known for their monogamy.

  “What about you?” Flora asked, draining the last of her hot chocolate, tossing the empty cup into the nearest garbage can.

  “Our family trees could be mirrors of each ot
her. My mother, is Volupta, only child of Cupid and Psyche. My father is the crowned elven prince of the huldufolk of Iceland. I have many cousins as well, and two sisters.”

  “Are your sisters cupids also?”

  After centuries of inter-species breeding, it was no longer assumed a fae-child would take after their parents. There was always a long-dormant gene lurking about, ready to pop up and make a surprise visit.

  “No, the oldest, Iliana is an elf like my father. She lives with his family in Iceland. Callia, the youngest, is a nymph and lives in Greece with my mother.”

  “Followed after grandpa, huh? Neat. What was it like growing up with siblings?”

  “Just like it is growing up with cousins and best friends. Noisy.”

  Watching Flora smile in the streetlights warmed Tharin’s heart. Hearing her laugh was music to his ears he would never get tired of.

  “Is that another reason you came to Peabody. To find where you fit in?”

  “Among others.”

  “It would seem like we’re two peas of the same pod.” Stopping at the end of the street, Flora looked up at the amazingly clear night sky. Even with every star showing its beauty against the backdrop of black velvet, none came close to comparing with Flora’s beauty. Tharin was in awe.

  “Almost like fate has intervened?”

  “Fate!” Flora repeated, bringing her hazel eyes to his. “Maybe. I’ve never liked being told what to do. I prefer to think we make our own choices.”

  “And what choice would you make tonight, sweet Flora?” Tharin asked, stepping close enough to feel the heat radiating from Flora’s body. “Will you see me again?”

  “I don’t do flings.” She warned, her pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips, in a nervousness Tharin found endearing.

  “In my occupation, flings have a way of turning into forever.”

  “I do feel a spark,” she confessed without guile.

  “Even an inferno has to begin somewhere,” Tharin agreed, and wasn’t this little fairy making him burn. Of their own accord, his gloved hands slid up to cup Flora’s face. Lowering his head to hers, he was surprised when she met him halfway, the small spark between them erupting into flames at the touch of their lips.

  As they broke apart, the arrow tattoo on his wrist began to burn a path straight to his heart. Cupid’s arrow had found its mark.

  Chapter 7

  Marigolds! The man could kiss!

  It was like a shot of lightning, a bolt of pure lust straight to her veins. It filled her with such an instant wave of desire, Flora was surprised she didn’t jump his bones right there on Main Street.

  “Wow,” she exclaimed when she was able to breathe again.

  “Amazing,” Tharin echoed. “Let’s get you back.”

  Allowing him to walk her back to her shop, Flora was pretty sure the world had just tilted on its axis. Nothing would ever be the same again. Not when she had tasted pure love and craved another taste.

  ****

  Floating on a cloud of euphoria, she was surprised she even managed to sleep that night. After a kiss like that she was sure she’d be running on raw lust for days. Instead, she’s spent another hour prepping for the morrow, then went home, and slept deeply until the dreams began. And weren’t they yummy! All scorching hot images of Tharin. The two of them tasting, touching, wanting.

  Flinging the covers from her body, Flora swung her legs over the side of the soft mattress. Setting coral painted toes on the cold floorboards, she briskly pulled her terry cloth robe over her flannel nightgown. Picking up the discarded pair of wool socks from the floor where she’d thrown them during the night when she’d gotten too warm—proving all a girl needed to get her motor running was one thought of a certain devilishly handsome cupid—she slipped them over her feet. Scratching absently at an itchy spot on her left rib, Flora descended the second story stairs, lured to the kitchen by the scent of frying bacon, fresh coffee, and the need to share all the juicy details with her friends.

  ****

  “Good morning,” she sang out as she entered the cozy farmhouse kitchen awash in early morning sunlight, and headed straight to the refrigerator.

  “Someone’s in an extra good mood this morning. Wouldn’t have to do with a newly arrived cupid would it?” Fia teased.

  “Not so much him, as with his…kiss.” Flora tempted, an immediate squeal coming from her friends.

  “No way!”

  “Do tell!”

  “Okay.” Flora began, dropping all pretenses of being coy, another quick scratch to her ribs. “He came by the store last night to return my scarf, freshly-washed and said that instead of me paying for his dry cleaning, he wanted to go on a walk. He even brought me hot white chocolate.”

  “I’m not sure I like this,” Fia teased. “First he makes you forget you have orders, then he’s keeping you from finishing your work. The guy sounds like a distraction to me. One I clearly remember you saying you had no time for. Am I wrong, Runa?”

  “No, dear Fia, you are quite right. Which makes this all the more suspicious.”

  Grabbing the oven mitts from their hook beside the oven, Flora chucked them at her friends. “All right you two. So I’ve changed my mind. There’s nothing wrong with that. Or the fact that the man can kiss like there’s no tomorrow.” Flora sighed. “I mean, his lips must have been carved by Cailleach Bheur herself they were such a work of art.”

  “When are you seeing him again?” the banshee asked, eager to know.

  “I don’t know, we didn’t get that far.” Flora confessed. “After our kiss he walked me back to the store. Gave me another kiss good night, this one on my forehead. No less thrilling by the way, and told me to lock up. I finished a few more vases in a sexual haze and came home.”

  “You know what I think?” Runa offered. “I think this calls for an early morning welcome party of one.”

  “You mean, just show up at his house? I don’t know.” Flora hesitated. Spur of the moment impulses were a little out of character for her.

  “Runa’s right.” The banshee agreed. “He surprised you with a nightcap, took you for a walk, and kissed you under the stars. I think it would be appropriate for you to surprise him with a breakfast basket. Maybe another kiss or two.” she drawled.

  “He did offer to give you a tour of the house.” The elf reminded.

  “When he stopped by last night, he did mention his appliances wouldn’t be delivered until today. He might not have any way of making himself breakfast.” Flora chewed on her lower lip, certain she could still taste Tharin on it.

  “Better get going then,” Fia encouraged. “Before he heads to town and you miss him in passing.”

  Taking her friends advice, Flora dashed back upstairs to get ready, scratching at her ribs again. “Oh my gladiolus! What do I wear?” she cried, throwing open her closet.

  “Grab a quick shower,” Runa commanded, pushing her out of the way with a hip bump. “Let the professionals handle this.”

  “I want to wear my Wellies,” Flora insisted from the bathroom. “And thermals. It’s supposed to snow again. Don’t forget the yellow.”

  “How could we not,” Fia shouted back after getting a glimpse of Flora’s wardrobe. “It’s like a lemon threw up in here.”

  “Is not,” the fairy refuted. “More like a bottle of mustard got spilled. Lemon’s too bright.”

  “Geez, you two!” Runa rolled her eyes. “Grab your silver heart studs, Flora. Go light on the eye makeup, brighter on the cheeks. Gloss your lips.”

  “Yes mother.”

  “Don’t you sass me!” Runa nodded at Fia’s choices, adding a few of her own.

  “Hey,” Flora yelled over the shower spray. “Tharin mentioned his dad is part of the Iceland’s huldufolk. The hidden elves. The humans in Iceland like to build them little elf houses to keep on their good side.”

  “How do you know that?” Runa asked, surprised.

  “I googled it. Between filling vases and day dreaming.
I was curious.”

  “Smart.”

  “I know right. Anyway. I was thinking I should take him one of the fairy houses from the shop as a gift.”

  “I think that would be sweet,” Fia agreed. “Which one?”

  “The last one Harold made. The gourd with the pinecone roof. Holy Holly! What the…?” Flora yelped from the bathroom.

  “What? What is it?” Runa and Fia demanded as Flora cut the water off with a snap of her wrist.

  “You tell me,” she commanded, stepping out of the shower dripping wet. “Do you see it? What is it?” She lifted her left breast up so her friends could look where she pointed.

  “When did you get a tattoo of a heart with an arrow thru it?” The banshee wanted to know, her brows drawn together in confusion.

  “I didn’t.”

  “That,” Runa argued, handing Flora a towel, “suggests otherwise.”

  Flora wanted answers. “It wasn’t there yesterday and now it’s here. So you tell me how I got it?” She wrapped her body in the towel.

  “Oh my gosh,” Fia exclaimed. “An arrow. Like cupid! Look, you two are clueless. Tharin is a cupid. Cupids are depicted as carrying, what? Arrows, that they use to shoot…People in love! Sweet Brigid, work with me here, fae-kin.”

  When Runa’s eyes went wide, Fia knew she had joined her train of thought. “You met Tharin yesterday. H-h-he kissed your knuckles.” She pointed at Flora as if she had just contracted a terrible disease. “And then…”

  Blushing, Flora stepped into the underwear she’d laid out. “Not just my knuckles.”

  “Mystery solved.” Fia crowed, earning another set of confused stares. “Don’t you see, you’ve been hit by Cupid’s arrow! You’re in love with Tharin, and he’s in love with you!” She squealed. “I’ll bet money he’s got a matching one to boot.”

  “What? That’s preposterous!” Flora began, only to fall silent when the banshee grinned madly. “You really think so? After one day?”

  “Of course I do.” Fia continued, “It was obvious to everyone in Presto’s, wasn’t it, Ru?”

  Flora glanced over at the elf, who could only nod. “Totally obvious. Here, put these on.” She ordered, handing Flora the black jeans with white printed hearts, white flannel shirt, and yellow down vest they’d picked out. “Toss your hair into a messy bun and grab the red blanket scarf to top it off.”