Page 33 of Never Been Gargoyled
“Good?” I asked, trying to ignore the way my pulse had picked up.
“Very good.” But he was looking at me when he said it, not the pastry.
Flames lit my cheeks on fire, and I scurried around the kitchen, finishing the treat and putting the others away for later, finally turning to find him still watching me with that stare that saw right through me but also made me feel seen. “I should probably get to work outside before it gets too hot.”
“Yes, let’s.”
Let’s?
I balked, but he insisted on helping. Because there was so much to do, I gave in.
We spent the morning tackling the overgrown flower beds along the side of the house. I showed Feydin how to tell the difference between weeds and the perennials that were trying to make a comeback, and he proved to be a quick learner.
“This one?” He pointed to a scraggly plant with serrated leaves.
“That's bee balm. See how the stems are square? It'll have beautiful red flowers later in the summer.”
“And this?”
“Bindweed. Definitely a weed. Pull it all the way out, including the roots, or it'll be back in a week.”
We worked side by side, and I found myself stealingglances at him. I was fascinated by the way his muscles moved under his t-shirt when he dug with a trowel. The careful way he handled plants as if they were fragile infants brought tears to my eyes. And the frown of concentration that appeared between his brows when he was trying to identify something made me want to twirl around in place.
“Do all gargoyles enjoy gardening?” I asked, pulling up a particularly stubborn thistle.
His hands stilled on the plant he'd been examining. “No.”
“But you're learning quickly. Is that a gargoyle thing, then, being fast learners?”
“I don't know.”
I glanced over at him. “You don't know much about other gargoyles?”
“I've been on my own for a long time.”
Something in his voice made my chest tighten. “That sounds lonely.”
He shrugged, but I caught the flash of vulnerability in his expression before he looked away.
“What about your family?” I asked gently.
“I have a brother in France. We don't see each other often.”
“Why not?”
“Our parents are gone.”
It wasn’t quite an answer.
“I’m sorry.” I could tell he didn't want to talk about it, so I let it drop. But the thought of him being alone foryears made my heart ache. “Well, you have a friend in me, now.”
“Dorvak’s a friend too.”
“Two then.” And wasn’t that sad? I should take him to karaoke or something, assuming someone offered that in town. I’d ask around.
I bumped his shoulder with mine. “Do you sing?”
“Um…” His frown deepened. “Perhaps.”
