Page 22 of Never Been Gargoyled
About the kiss? Completely.
She didn’t seem mad about it.
Did that mean I could kiss her again?
After I finished the lawn,I hauled the wacky weeder out of the shed, laying it on the clipped grass, glaring at it.
Dazy came up behind me, pushing the wheelbarrow with tools banging around.
“What are you doing now?” She frowned at the infernal device.
“I’m going to wacky some weeds,” I said.
She blinked three times fast before her smile rose. “I appreciate that, Feydin. Do you know how to, er, use it?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s simple.”
“Not truly.” She proceeded to show me, explainingabout the certain fuel we had to use, which wasn’t the same as what we used for the mower, plus how to advance and ultimately, replace the string that didn’t look like any string I’d ever seen before. When she’d finished, I felt confident I could wield the device.
She continued to frown. “You mowed. I don’t think you should do this too.”
“What if I want to?”
“Again, why?”
Why did I want to wacky weeds for her? The question hung between us while my brain scrambled for an answer that wouldn't sound completely mad.
Because you're my fated mate and every fiber of my being demands I provide for you and make your life easier and more beautiful.
Yes, that would go over well. She'd probably call those police she'd mentioned.
“Because…” I cleared my throat. “Because you're working hard. And I'm here. And I have nothing else to do.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Nothing else to do? Don't you have gargoyle duties or something?”
Gargoyle duties. Protecting the estate. Which meant protecting her now since she owned it. But that wasn't the real reason I wanted to help. The real reason made my chest tight and my wings twitch with nervous energy.
“My duties include maintaining the grounds,” I said. Not a complete lie.
“Oh.” She studied my face for a long moment. “That makes sense, I guess.”
Did it? I couldn't tell if she believed me or if she was being polite. Reading human expressions had never been my strong point. Even when I'd watched over Helga, I'd spent most of my time in stone form or keeping to myself. She’d rarely needed my help with anything, and being strong-willed, I doubted she’d accept it if I’d offered.
Dazy tilted her head. “You sure you feel comfortable using that thing?”
I lifted the wacky weeder, holding it aloft so she couldn’t snatch it from my grip. “Of course I do. It's simple machinery.”
“If you say so.”
The doubt in her voice made my wings flare. I was a competent gargoyle. I could handle basic gardening equipment. How difficult could it be?
I pulled the cord to start the machine. It roared to life, vibrating in my hands much more violently than I'd expected. The noise was tremendous. Deafening. I dropped it, then scrambled to pick it up while it bucked in place and a piece of cord at its head tried to slice its way into the ground. Lifting it, I gave Dazy my best smile, which probably came out as a grimace. I was making a mess of this already.
“You have to hold it tight,” Dazy called over the engine noise.
Tight. Naturally. Beastly thing. I glared at it, and I adjusted my grip, lowering the spinning head toward apatch of weeds growing between the stone pavers. The string whipped around, sending bits of plant matter flying in all directions.
This was an interesting thing. I might actually enjoy using it for weed destruction.
