Page 42 of Mistletoe

Hal finished his plate with the fork and knife. When the last morsel was gone, she pushed her plate toward him.

“I cannot. This is your food,” he said.

“It’s the rabbit you gave us, so it’s your food.”

“That was a gift. You should eat.”

“I had bread and honey,” she said, motioning to the used butter knife.

“That is not a proper meal.” Even though he protested, his eyes were fixed on the plate as if the rabbit and roast potatoes were a decadent meal and not, in fact, humble fare.

“Trust me, I ate earlier. I’m not inclined to skip meals.” Emma patted her hips for emphasis. She wasn’t a delicate flower, and she was far too tall and stout to be fashionable.

“Don’t do that,” Hal grumbled around a mouthful of rabbit.

“Do what?”

“Disparage yourself.”

“Oh. I… I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, blushing. She was keenly aware that her hair had worked itself free of her plait. While she wasn’t anyone’s definition of delicate or tidy, she liked her body’s strength. Generally. “I work hard. I have a big appetite.”

More grumbling as he ate. The rate of inhalation was considerably more sedate than his previous plate.

Between the lanterns and the fireplace, she had enough light and time to get a proper look at him. Her original assessment stood about him being too thin. He was big and broad, which might distract from the gaunt hollows of his face, but Emma noticed. She didn’t like that he was clearly having a difficult winter. Sheriff Navarre believed he escaped from the vampire’s fortress, and Emma could believe it. He had an air of suffering about him.

“Would you like a bath? The water should be nice and hot now,” she said.

He mumbled an agreement.

“I’m sorry, is this too much? Am I overwhelming you?”

He shook his head.

“I focus on a task, and I just get swept away. I won’t stop until it’s done, and I have a bad habit of sweeping over people to do it. It gives my brother apoplexy.”

He huffed, sounding amused. “Are you saying I smell?”

“I’m saying that if you want to scrub the mud off you, I’ll find you clean clothes to wear. If you’re not interested, I’ll take the bath myself.”

His face darkened and he dipped his head, as if unable to look her in the eye. Was that a blush? How precious.

“Well, I have noticed how you enjoy bossing me around,” he said.

Now, it was her turn to laugh. “Oh, not just you. I’m world-class at bossing people around.”

The chair squealed as he pushed back from the table. Emma filled the hip tub. Hal immediately lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

His chest was a patchwork. Green she expected, not the varying shades. Some parts were a deep green, others an olive, but it lacked gradation. He looked as if he had been sewn together from scraps. She hadn’t noticed before in the barn, due to surprise and poor lighting.

“Oh, we’re just taking our clothes off now,” she said in surprise, turning her back to avoid seeing him undressed.

Again.

“You cannot expect me to take a bath in that.”

Emma turned back. Hal—nude at this point—scowled down at the hip tub. If the tub had been sentient, it would have been cowering in terror.

“Well, I see your point. You’ll be a tight fit. Sit here,” she said, patting the tub’s back, “lean back here, and?—”

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