Page 16 of Dragon Slayer

5

TIPPING, AND THEN FALLING

Sometimes he appeared in the mornings, sometimes in the evenings, sometimes along the rail while she was riding. Sometimes it was velvet, other times rough tunics she thought must have come from his own time, and occasionally in modern clothes. But Val visited in some way every single day. Like riding, like teaching, like eating, and sleeping, and unrolling her yoga mat, he became a part of her routine. Familiar as her well-worn boots; beautiful as the summer sunset; more engaging than any of the novels on her shelves.

“Are you lonely?” he asked one day, apropos of nothing.

Mia looked up from her tablet and blinked at him in surprise. He’d shown up in jeans and a t-shirt today; she’d recognized the outfit as one worn by a model in a Macy’s catalogue she’d left sitting out on her kitchen counter: artfully destroyed denim with slits in the knees, and a clinging plain gray v-neck that showed off stark collarbones and pale skin. He lay on the floor beside her, and his shirt had ridden off to reveal a stretch of lightly-toned stomach and sharp hipbones.

Mia forced her gaze up to his face and he flashed a quick grin to show he knew where her eyes had gone first.

“What?” she asked.

His expression grew thoughtful. “I asked if you were lonely.”

“I heard you.” Self-consciousness moved like an itch beneath her skin. “I just don’t know why you asked.”

He tilted his head, hair rustling against the carpet. “You live alone. I haven’t seen you spend time with any friends. Or a lover.”

Heat filled her face. “Well that’s rude as hell.”

“It’s only an observation, darling.” His eyes were soft, the same faded blue as his jeans. “You’re beautiful. You could have your pick of lovers if you wanted one.”

“Ugh. Okay.” She rubbed at the blooming tension between her brows so she didn’t have to see himlookingat her like that andsaying thingslike that. “We’re not having a conversation about lovers. And don’t use that word. It’s…” Too intense for today’s casual handling of love, sex, and relationships. “Corny,” she said, instead.

Val breathed a laugh and she heard him sit up. “Too late.” When she dropped her hand, he was sitting beside her, almost in front of her, their faces level and much too close. It made her wish he was really here, that she could feel the heat of his skin and breath. “Now I’m interested.”

She glared at him. The best she could, anyway. He was irrepressible cute when he smiled like that. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” he countered. “We’re friends. I want to know more about you.” His smile dimmed a fraction. “We are friends, aren’t we?”

“I see you every day. If that doesn’t count as friends, I don’t know what does.”

“An excellent point.” He brightened again. “Now tell me all about your salacious love life. I’m dying to know.” He propped his chin on his fist and batted his lashes at her.

She groaned. “It’s not salacious.” When he only blinked at her expectantly: “I’ve had two boyfriends. If you could call them that.” She shrugged, uncomfortable. “Not much to tell. I was busy with horse stuff, they were busy with their stuff. Neither one was serious. We parted ways amicably.”

He seemed displeased.

“What?”

“That’s unacceptable.”

She huffed a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“It ended amicably? How? They just let you go? Like absolute fools?”

“What were they supposed to do? Hit me over the head and keep me captive? That’s illegal, Middle Ages Man,” she tried to joke.

But Val was serious. He leaned in closer – close enough to the see the darker striations in his eyes; close enough to see a thin, pale scar at his hairline she hadn’t noticed before, a silvery line that caught the sunlight. “Mia, why didn’t they fight to keep you?” he asked earnestly. “Why not?”

“Because they didn’t love me.”

He held her gaze a moment, his own stern. “Idiots,” he finally said, like a curse, and flopped back down to the rug.

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