Page 6 of Marcus-stiltskin

“More like large animals don’t like me. Lugh says they can sense my nervousness, and it upsets them.”

“Well, these guys just want to be your friend.”

“What are these guys? Donkeys?” I guess as I carefully lean against the fence.

He smiles his dazzling smile. “Yep. That’s Daisy, Paco, Amigo, Champ, and that little lady over there is Willow. Ramona, the horse, didn’t want to come in, so I’m going to just have to hope she is alright for the night outside.” The shortest and derpiest of the lot lifts its head and waddles toward me. It takes everything within me not to make an idiot of myself and jerk away as her pace quickens. She is a pretty brown, but her coat is patchy and uneven. I stand completely still as she approaches and bumps my hand with her nose. “Looks like Willow’s taken a liking to you,” Marcus chuckles.

Carefully, I reach out for her head and scratch behind her ears. She doesn’t even come up to my shoulder. I shouldn’t be as nervous as I am, but I still find my hands shaking slightly as I pet her head. She pushes hard against my hand, insisting I move to the other ear, as I breathe slowly, trying to control the rising panic filling my chest.

“So, uh, are they going to permanently live inside?”

“No, but this place still needs a lot of work, and I don’t want to leave them outside alone overnight without shelter.”

“The Dvergar, the people that run the mines back behind us, they’re amazing builders. They helped Jacqueline and Lugh build the house they’re in now. You might see if they’d be willing to do some side jobs for you. I hear they’re pretty fast, too.”

He considers this for a moment. “The Dvergar? The dwarves? They live here?”

“A small group of them do. They’re reclusive, but they’re pretty good guys.”

“I’ll have to look into that.” We lapse into silence for a short while as Willow gets more and more demanding. “So Sarah,” he starts.

“Yeah?” I ask absently, concentrating on petting Willow without freaking out.

“Want to end this torture? I can make us some coffee upstairs.”

“It’s not torture,” I lie.

He huffs a laugh. “Your face says otherwise.”

“Fine. Yes, please.”

“Here, let’s wash up.”

To the side of the makeshift pen is an old metal sink. Marcus turns on the water and then meticulously washes his hands. “Preparing for surgery, Dr. Jones?” I ask as we take turns running our hands under the water.

He laughs. “Hygiene around animals is important. You don’t want to pass something around and you don’t want to get something from them. Can I show you?”

I nod. “Of course.”

He moves behind me, wrapping his arms around me from behind and taking my hands in his like a small child. He doesn’t press his body up to mine, but it’s incredibly intimate to be this close and have my hands in his.

“Do you do this for all the volunteers?” I tease as we finish up.

“Only the ones I like,” he says with a wink. “Are you still up for coffee, or have I worn you out by meeting the kids?”

“It takes a lot more than that to wear me out,” I say before I realize how it sounds.

He chuckles. “Good to know.”

Our eyes meet and for a moment I’m fifteen again–completely awestruck by how wonderful he is. Butterflies immediately fill my stomach. He clears his throat and turns away, chuckling softly.

Out of the corner of my eye, a small bale of hay ignites, a tiny flame growing across the top of the flat surface. Quietly, Isidestep and touch the bale of hay with the bracelet. The flame doesn’t diminish.

I close my eyes and consider how to control feelings I’ve had since I was fifteen. I have no idea what I’m doing. Desperately, I start thinking of the least sexy things I can.

This bale of hay.

The donkeys.

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