Page 86 of Of Ambrosia and Stone

Contemplating his answer, Apollo pauses, “Perhaps we will have to change that little fact.”

Part of me wants to groan. The other part of me thinks of the Spring Equinox.

“What? Is that getting a bit too ahead of ourselves,” Apollo jokes.

“There’s nothing to get ahead of,” I giggle mischievously.

Laughing loudly, he takes my mischief in his stride, flashing me a lopsided crooked smile. A charming but impish smile. A dimple is the only mark on his otherwise smooth skin.

The cocked smile was enamoring. Made me feel warm and happy. Like it’s the two of us in the world. He guides me to the large living room. The walls, floors, and ceilings are covered in the same timber as the outside. The pitched roof ceilings are higher than the hallway.

The focal piece of the room is the stone fireplace. Warm and rounded large rocks climb the wall around the large hearth. Rugs are scattered along the floor. Brightly patterned red. Even the furniture is made from logs of wood and cushioned fabric.

The chandelier caught my eye. A ring of antlers. Furs of animals scattered around. As rugs, as blankets, and mounted on the walls. Internally, my gut reels at the sight of the ‘trophies’ around the room. Growing up, when we hunted, we used as much as we possibly could. Hunting for vanity was not an option.

Give him a chance. You two grew up in completely different worlds.

After our brief tour of the home, I could see why Apollo liked it here. There was an aura of peace that rests through the grounds. The world could be burning down outside this estate, and we’d be comfortable here.

Prepping for dinner, Apollo stirs the pot.

Tipping myself up onto my toes, I peek at the boiling water. I ask, “What’re you making?”

“Homemade gnocchi with a side salad.” Kneading the dough, Apollo artfully cuts and shapes the noodles before setting them in the pot.

“Sounds lovely.” I watch him preparing the dough.

Watching a god cook is a novel sight. It's downright surprising to me. I assumed he’d use magic to finish the food.

But no. He is taking his time, going through each of the finicky steps.

Sighing, I sit at the kitchen table. Fit for about twenty people. The long benches to the sides were utilitarian but worked. Instead of the benches, I opted for one of the two end chairs with a back. Fidgeting for a bit, I felt restless, “Can I help with anything?”

“Sure. Can you cut up the tomatoes?” Pulling a cutting board and knife from the drawer, he sets them on the island for me.

I nod. Getting up, I wash my hands and then start on the tomatoes. I rise, scrub, and clean each one before cutting it up, “How would you like them chopped?”

“Here, chop them like this,” Apollo instructs he as steps behind me. Guiding my hands.

Pressing his front flush with my back, I feel my body melt against him.

His warmth makes my body ache.

His woodsy amber smell. I memorize the feeling of him pressed against me.

How his thumb traces my hand. Softly carving light patterns into my skin. Leaning down to my shoulder, Apollo hunches his back looking down at the tomatoes.

Pulling me over to the sink, with a handful of tomatoes, he starts running the water.

That’s a fancy faucet, I remark. Tall curved dark metal propels the water from the pipes to fill the basin.

Phantomlike, Apollo turns to me. His lips brushed against my ear causing another shiver to run down my back. My stomach somersaults inside of me. Huskily, he whispers, “Just take hold of it gently. Giving each one the proper care it deserves.

Gods. Please don’t be talking about tomatoes right now.

My cheeks flush from sheer excitement.

Following his lead, I scrub the already clean tomato. Slowly swirling the water along the smooth skin of the fruit. “Good work.” He kisses my neck. I swear it feels like I'm on another plane of existence. “Now for the rest of the sauce.” Pulling me back to the island, I picked up the knife and Apollo placed his hand on mine. Guiding me slowly through the steps of preparing the sauce.

---