Page 48 of Ulune's Daughter

He strips off his sneakers and socks and gets his feet into the stream that tumbles away from the spring along a rocky bed. I sit next to him on the grassy bank and spread the picnic between us.

“Better?” I ask.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I had a bad moment back there.”

“Totally understandable. They died a thousand years ago, but they were still people. Seeing the evidence of their implosion, sensing their misery, it’s affecting.”

Rhodes nods. He takes the plate of fried chicken, potato salad, and roasted broccolini that I hand him. He picks up a broccolini floret and waves it at me.

“This is an extremely healthy picnic.”

I shrug. “Getting to the mainland from Isla Cedros was a pain. The mists form a barrier that’s not easy to penetrate with magic. There’s no access to the Fae Ways. I was stuck on the island for long periods. I learned to love the veggies I could easily grow on the island. Potatoes, tomatoes, broccoli, corn, carrots, cucumbers, avocados. I have a million recipes for roasted veggies. Wait until my harvest barbeque. I make the meanest roasted corn and cilantro salad.”

Rhodes grins before chomping down the broccolini. I hand him one of the locally brewed beers I brought. He tips his head back as he drinks, his strong throat working.

I shift on the grass. I should be sweet and compassionate, given how upset he clearly was by the exhibit. That would be the good girlfriend thing to do. But my head is filled with very impure thoughts. Something about a guy’s throat with a prominent Adam’s apple and all those sexy cords. Lickable. Biteable. I want to see it straining above me as he throws his head back?—

I hide my dirty thoughts in my beer. One of the downsides of Unseelie blood like mine is a libido that’s charitably described as robust and not-so-charitably described (mostly by my sister’s husband) as hypersexual. Dark fae feed off strong emotions, particularly grief, and nothing turns me on more than a guy who is hurting. I got used to taking care of my own needs on Isla Cedros—and with Rowan if the truth be told—and I haven’t felt much of an itch since coming back to Bevvy. In fact, most mornings I wake pleasantly sated.

But around Rhodes, the itch is reawakening. So much so that I wonder if a third date is too soon for sex. Maybe comforting cuddling that turns into some very satisfying humping?

Bad Kellan. I swig more beer.

“This is really good.” Rhodes pulls my attention back to him. By complimenting my cooking. Like that’s not a turn on. Look at me, taking care of my man. “And not even a hint of cinnamon.”

I laugh. “I threw out my stock of ground cinnamon as a preventative measure. Have you always hated cinnamon?”

While I enjoy my food, Rhodes tells me the story behind his cinnamon aversion. I can’t help but laugh as he relates the misery of eating pancakes with so much cinnamon in them they were gritty. They were, of course, a birthday breakfast from his younger sisters and being a dutiful older brother, he never told them.

“All these years later?” I ask, sniggering around a bite of potato salad.

Rhodes shakes his head.

“And they still make you cinnamon pancakes for every birthday?”

“Every year. Without fail.”

I drown my laughter in a fresh beer. “You’re a very good brother,” I say, offering him my beer totink.

He taps his beer bottle against mine, finishes it, and fishes a fresh one out of the cooler we’ve brought.

“Tell me how your sister ended up married to your ex. Because that doesn’t sound like being a very good sister.”

“It didn’t feel very sisterly to me, either.” I set my plate aside and stretch out on the grass, propping my head on my hand. “I dated Mitch all through our senior year at Bevvy and for the first year of our doctorate work. My sister Chelsea was three years behind us. She met him through me, although she says they have so much in common it was ‘inevitable’ they’d get together.” I snort to punctuate that bullshit. “I was artifact hunting and doing independent research. I was away almost every weekend. I guess Mitch felt neglected. All those things they hadin commonpulled them together, although neither of them bothered to tell me.”

Rhodes shakes his head in sympathy. “That’s bullshit.”

“Right? Anyway, it all came to a head when Mitch and I went up for the same teaching position and I got it. He was furious. He told me he needed space. Then that he wanted to see other people. I agreed. I just didn’t realize I was giving him permission to date my sister.”

“Why didn’t she tell you?”

“All the bullshit reasons you’d guess. She didn’t want to hurt me.” Snort. “She was waiting for my feelings for Mitch to fade.” Another snort. “Chelsea and I were never tight. We were close enough in age that my parents let her do everything I did, even if I had to wait until a certain age to do it. Like when I had to wait until my twelfth birthday to get my ears pierced but she was allowed to get hers done at the same time, even though she was only nine. That kind of thing used to annoy the fuck out of me. I realize now that was more my parents’ failing than Chelsea’s. She was just pushing boundaries the way kids do. But those resentments drove a wedge between us. And she had reasons to resent me, too. She was never particularly good in school. Chelsea’s a people person and our parents never recognized her social skills as being valuable. She’s a wedding planner now and probably makes twice what I ever will, but back then it was all about our grades and her lack of ambition, as they called it. I don’t think they did it on purpose, but they constantly created competition between us where there didn’t have to be any.”

Rhodes rubs his hand over his eyes. “Tell me she didn’t steal your boyfriend to win the competition?”

“I hope not. I mean, maybe that’s where it started, but I hope she loves him and he makes her happy. Because Mitch was not the best boyfriend and if he makes as sucky a husband as he did a boyfriend, she’s going to be miserable. And she’s already pregnant with kid number two, so it’s a little late to decide she was only in it to win it.”

“No refunds.”

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