Page 39 of Mistletoe

A fair question. When he imagined life on this new planet, he hadn’t pictured much for himself. Ethan had been the one with ambition. Hal thought he’d stay close to his brother, do what needed doing, and look how that turned out.

“I don’t want charity.”

“Charity? Nothing charitable about what I’m offering. I got more work than I can handle,” she said.

She said that now, but Draven called him unstable. Hal knew the vampire lied as easily as he breathed—if that monster even breathed. What had been a rare moment when he told the truth? Hal might be unstable. Accepting her offer would put her and her family in harm’s way.

Emma sensed his uncertainty. “Look, Pa is getting up there. His bones don’t like the cold, he can’t see his hand in front of his face, and he likes talking to you. One morning, he’s going to want to give you a book and slip on the ice. Then we’ll have an old blind man with a broken hip. Think of Oscar. Save his hip. Work for me.”

Her tone was playful, like it had been in the alley. The sun slipped behind the mountain, turning the sky vivid reds and purples. The last of the light glowed over her features. Golden strands of hair caught the light. She had never looked lovelier. There wasn’t any place he’d rather be.

Of course he would stay. He’d be hard-pressed to ever leave.

“You’re not above manipulating me with guilt.”

“Is it working?”

Yeah, it was working.

“You don’t care about this?” He gestured to his face.

“Not really.”

“I’m a monster. I’m dangerous.”

“It’s a dangerous world.”

“That’s a very naive answer,” he said.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Will your family feel the same?” he asked.

“Pa is blind. He likes talking to you and that’s all that will matter to him. Ma won’t care. She probably won’t even notice,” she answered with confidence.

“Doubtful. I am exceptionally noticeable.”

“Well, then I’ll just have to convince her that having a monster in our employ is progressive. She’s very political in that regard.”

“I find it hard to tell you no,” he said.

Delight flashed in her eyes. “Well, that’s dangerous information to have. Come on. I’ll show you the bunkhouse. It’s a ways past the barn.”

Emma

When she said the bunkhouse wasn’t much, that wasn’t false humility. It was one room with a wood-burning stove in the center. The walls were solid and free of drafts. The roof kept the rain out. Furnishings were modest and currently under dust covers. It did offer privacy, situated far from the house.

Hal ducked his head as he went through the door. If he was disappointed in the simple lodgings, his face didn’t betray him. At least the ceiling was tall enough for him to stand without hunching over.

“Shouldn’t take long to get this up to snuff,” Emma said. She removed the cloth covering the bed. A plume of dust went into the air. Without prompting, Hal removed the other covers, folding them neatly without adding to the dust in the air.

She turned over the mattress, inspecting it for holes or evidence that mice got into the batting. The bunkhouse had only sat empty for a few months, but field mice always found a way in when the weather turned bitterly cold.

They worked well together. Hal didn’t say much, which was fine. Emma filled the silence with idle chatter or humming tunes. She explained how her father and brother built the bunkhouse years ago, intending it as a little cottage for Felix and whoever he married one day. That was why it was so far away from the main house, to give the theoretical newlyweds privacy.

Hal brought in firewood while she got the fire going. He moved furniture out of the way, lifting the entire bed off the ground and holding it aloft while she swept. He easily reached the lanterns hung high on the wall and brought them down to be cleaned and lit. When he rolled up his shirt sleeves, she exercised great restraint on her part and did not stare at his forearms, as admirable as they were. Before long, the one-room bunkhouse was comfortably warm and reasonably clean.

“Blankets and such are in the trunk,” she said, pointing to the wooden box at the foot of the bed. “The shower and facilities are through that door. There should be soap, but if not, we got plenty in the house. Grab anything you need from the storeroom off the kitchen. Breakfast is after chores. Ma will fix you a lunch pail to take with you for the day. Dinner is at sunset. I think that’s everything pertinent.”

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