Page 24 of Vine

“Goodness, well, I’d… I’d better head off.” I rose to my feet. “Thanks for the chocolate. And for rescuing me, of course. And sorry for falling asleep on you. As a rule, I’m a much better house guest. I have been known to chat and wash up and everything.”

I stopped wittering as another crack jolted the foundations. Jerking my chin in the general direction of outside, I hurriedlyzipped my jacket and turned up the collar. Without a hood, I’d be making a mad dash across the gravel. “I’ll be glad when winter’s over, eh? Won’t be freaked out in the middle of the night by storms like this, for a start.”

Max stood too, looming over me, and I followed him to the door. Instead of showing me out, he grabbed his own jacket, then delved into a narrow closet to retrieve a blue woollen hat.

“For you.”

“Honestly, there’s no need,” I protested when he stepped into his boots. “It’s only twenty metres. And the storm isn’t quite overhead yet. I’ll run.”

“No.” He shook his head stubbornly. “You’ll slip.”

Oh God, this again. “I’m actually fairly agile. It was the snake, you see. I panicked. And I was tired. I couldn’t sleep. Unlike here tonight, when clearly, I slept remarkably easily. I’ve got a lot on my mind, and it whirls around my head at night. Do you ever feel that, Max? Like you can’t move on until a job is ticked off or a thought or an idea has a solution? I once phoned the dentist to change an appointment, but the number was engaged, and so I phoned every two minutes, for an hour and a half until I got through because I couldn’t move on until I had, which is a very strange way to behave and makes me sound mentally ill, which I’m not. Well, I am, but not overtly, I manage to hide it from most people, and so…”

“Shh. Wear the hat.”

He placed the beanie on my head as gently as if laying down a new-born baby, cutting off my inappropriate and random verbal deluge as swiftly as it had started. As he tucked a few strands of my hair under the brim, his undeniably gorgeous brown eyes bore into mine with the intensity of a serial killer. Except everything he did told me he was as far from that as a man could be.

“Shh,” he repeated, so softly and so tenderly I nearly burst into tears. “I’m going to make sure you’re safe.”

Can’t lie, it felt totally weird.Ifelt totally weird, like the presence of this odd stranger and his odd silences gave me space to breathe, and with it an unstoppable urge to vomit my frustrations. If Leigh knew, he’d tell me to run a mile. Maybe I should, but not only was the guy carefully wrapping my scarf around my neck massive, a table covered in sharp implements was within reach of his long brawny arms, and no one knew where I was. So I rolled with it.

“Um… thank you.” Maybe he wouldn’t kill me if I was polite. “And sorry for talking so much rubbish. And for sleeping. Again. I’m… I’m on a tablet that, well, I don’t sleep properly at night. My mind races. And… and I’m talking rubbish again.”

Stepping back, he gave me a satisfied nod, patted my head like I was a well-behaved dog, and then made a sound that might have been a laugh. “It’s not rubbish. Andla mer Caspiennewill stay dry now. And he won’t hurt himself.”

Weird as fuck.But not as weird as him taking hold of my hand as we crunched over the gravel. I felt like a child being led across a busy street. The wind whipping around us had a crackly, static quality, like the storm would break through any second now. “I’m not going to fall over, you know,” I babbled, trying not to think about lightning and storms and houses bursting into flames. “I generally don’t. It was a one-off, honestly. I have excellent balance most of the time, even in the dark and wet. And the other injuries, well… can we not talk about those for the moment? And don’t feel obliged to hold my hand. You know, I usually navigate gravel perfectly…”

He squeezed a bit tighter. “Being careful.”

“Oh, okay. Well… thank you.”

As we reached the end of the longest twenty-metre stretch of driveway ever, the sensor above the little porch of my gatehouse swung into action, bathing it in a welcome light.

“Oh look, the bulb’s working! There must be a faulty connection. I couldn’t get it to turn on earlier.”

“Fixed it for you,” mumbled Max.

“Oh. Oh, well, thank you, that’s very thoughtful.”

“Moved Kaa, too.”

Car? Kaa?He’d said that word before. I’d have to look it up.

“She’s under my sink now. In a box.”

Fuck me. That… that snake was his? A pet? Yep. The guy was a psychopath. Forget hot chocolates and woolly hats and new lightbulbs. I was making doe eyes with the child catcher disguised as a kindly fisherman. Any second now, I’d be a goner.

Except his big hand still gripped mine comfortingly, and, however strange his conversation and choice of non-human companions, those eyes really were awfully kind. And kindness and care had been in very short supply recently.

“Well, um… thank you again.”

Seemingly reluctantly, his hand left mine, taking its warmth. I dropped mine to my side and then, like an idiot, automatically held it out again for a shake. He didn’t take it, although his fingers twitched as if gearing up.

“Bye, Caspian.” His gaze fixed just above my left ear. This close, his eyes weren’t intense or threatening at all, merely two warm pools of deep brown. So taken by their extraordinary richness, and busy pondering why he didn’t look at me full on, I didn’t immediately notice the soft tickle of his beard as it brushed against my cheek. Nor the hardly there press of cool lips hidden within. At least not until he pulled away.

“Oh!” My astonished exhale puffed between us. The tip of Max’s tongue licked along his lips, lips that had seconds ago touched my skin.

“I like your cheeks,” he muttered, as if that explained everything. And then with a nod of his big shaggy head, he marched off.

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