Page 82 of How To Tame A Trickster Fae

We fit together, him and me.

That simple gesture, just getting the cups and plates out for my unexpected guests, and my heart warms, tears stinging my eyes.

There’s no cookie or spell in the world that could have made him do that unless it was specifically crafted to do so.

Caelan did that all on his own.

He picks out a raspberry tart from the basket and puts it on a plate for me.

“Why?” I manage, though I’m not entirely sure what I’m asking.

“Just to see you smile, little golden witch.”

He sinks into the chair next to me and reaches for my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the whole world.

“So she’s coming, and I’m the person who’s lived here the longest, and it’s up to me to make sure it goes off without a hitch. Everything has to be?—”

Ga’Rek brushes his calloused knuckles over her cheek and she blinks, her words lost to silence.

The raspberry tart crunches as Caelan takes a bite, and I bite my lips to keep from laughing.

“We will help you. Everyone will. I haven’t lived here long, but I can tell this is a good place, full of good people who will want to help you, Piper.”

“Better than a book,” Caelan mutters, nudging me with his knee.

I clap a hand over my mouth, the urge to laugh stronger than ever.

“I’m sorry that you feel like this is all on you,” Ga’Rek continues, completely focused on her, “but it’s not. Not at all. Right, Wren?”

“Absolutely,” I agree, nodding for emphasis.

“Where is the jeweler witch?” someone yells from outside.

Caelan casts me a dark look. “I would recognize that voice anywhere.” He crosses over to the arched, stained glass window that looks out over the street as Ga’Rek continues to reassure Piper in hushed tones. “You’ve got an entire pack of dwarves out there,” he tells me. “Do you want me to kill them?”

“What?” I explode, the tart forgotten. “Why would I want that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, they’re disturbing the peace. They could have woken you up.” He looks outraged at the prospect.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “That’s not a reason to murder someone, Caelan.”

He pouts. “Fine. Get dressed. I’ll hold the wretches off.”

“I was rude to them the last time they were here.” I peek around his broad back, my cheek on his bicep. “I wonder what they want.”

“Obviously, they want to work with you. You’ll charge them triple,” he demands.

“Oh, and who died and put you in charge?” I ask, poking him.

“Hash Beauchamp.”

“He’s dead?” Piper says, her voice hitting fever pitch again.

Fenn yowls.

The dwarves outside begin yelling and shoving each other.

“No, he’s not dead, it’s so much worse than that,” Caelan announces with relish. “He was a Seelie fae the whole time. High court.” He taps his chin. “Apparently, I signed the deed to the damned inn the moment I signed for the rooms we rented. Can you believe it?” He huffs in astonishment.

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