Page 50 of Never Been Gargoyled
“Oh,” I said.
“Is that acceptable?”
“More than acceptable.” My voice came out soft. “It's really sweet of you.”
“Sweet.” He frowned. “You keep calling me that.”
“Because you are. You bring me breakfast, you fix things around the house, you create beautiful gardens in the middle of the night, and you want to understand what makes me happy. That's the definition of sweet.”
“I prefer 'helpful' or 'supportive.'“
“You can prefer whatever you want. You're still sweet.” I grinned at his disgruntled expression. “What's wrong with being sweet?”
“Sweet is…diminutive. Insubstantial.”
“Sweet is caring and thoughtful and considerate. There's nothing diminutive about that.”
He looked unconvinced.
“Feydin.” I turned to face him. “In my experience, truly sweet men are rare. Most guys I've known have been selfish or careless or not particularly interested in anyone's happiness but their own.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It was.” I winced. “I mean, I had friends and my dad, but romantic relationships never seemed to work out for me.” I shrugged.
“Their loss.”
The quiet conviction in his voice made my heart skip. He said it like it was an absolute fact, not just something polite to make me feel better.
“You don't even know me that well yet,” I said.
“I know enough.”
“Like what?”
“I know you talk to plants and make happy noises when you eat eclairs. I know you inherited a falling-down estate and decided to restore it instead of selling it. I know you trust people until they give you a reason not to, and you see potential where others see problems.”
I stared at him. He really had been paying attention.
“I know you hum when you're content,” he continued, “and you bite your lip when you're concentrating. I know you'd rather fix something than replace it, and you think everyone deserves a second chance.”
“You got all that from a few days of knowing me?”
“Some things are obvious if you're paying attention.”
“And you've been doing that.”
“Every moment.”
The intensity in his voice made my pulse race. The way he was looking at me, like I was something precious and fascinating, sent warmth spreading through my chest.
This was dangerous territory. I was already getting attached to this place and the life I was building here.
Getting attached to Feydin too would only make losing everything hurt that much more.
But looking at him now, seeing the careful way he cradled his injured hand and the fierce protectiveness in his expression when he talked about the estate, I realized it might already be too late.
I was falling for him. Had been falling for days now, maybe since that first moment he'd kissed me in the garden.
