Page 42 of The Incubus's Angel
Satisfied, I open the basket I borrowed from Pierre, the old gargoyle who runs the general store—The Winged Apple—and unpack the bread that Beck helped me bake. Okay, the bread that Beckbaked while I watched.
Turns out that when you ask for help to woo a lady, all your friends will happily congregate to share their tips and tricks with you.
After Maisie left my place last week, I scoured the internet for date ideas, but they were all filled with fancy restaurants and five-course meals. None of those things sounded like anything Maisie would like.
It didn’t take long for me to go knocking on Bodin and Tilly’s door to ask for help. They strongly advised me to keep it simple and think of her favorite things to do.
A picnic was the most obvious choice.
When I started preparing our menu, my first thought was to stop by The Flowering Teapot for treats, but I wanted to make her something myself. Unfortunately I’m not very skilled when it comes to cooking or baking, so Beck was the next best option for advice on that front. I knew he was good in the kitchen, but he surprised me with the level of his bread-baking skills.
Beck gave me three different bread options, and when I couldn’t pick, he just baked all three. After he was done, he even went into town with me to pick up some jams and marmalade from Pierre’s shop—who insisted I add fresh fruit and vegetable sticks to the picnic spread, as well as threatened me if I didn’t return the basket he insisted I take.
The way they all came together for me, encouraged me, and helped me plan something to have a chance at winning Maisie’s heart—I’ve never felt so grateful for this small community.
I arrange everything on the picnic blanket until it looks relatively presentable, then set off to pick daisies.
First, I carefully select a substantial bunch of long-stemmed daisies for a bouquet that she can keep in her room—according to Tilly this is to serve as a reminder of me when I’m not around—and place them in the now-empty basket as our picnic decor. Tilly also said this is important and would be a good “aesthetic choice” despite me pointing out that our picnic will be surrounded by a whole bunch of daisies anyway.
Then, I pick a second bunch for her daisy crown, or halo as I like to think of it. I carefully trim them so they’re all an equal length—something that’s apparently very important according to the numerous tutorials I watched over the past week.
Sitting on the blanket, I start weaving. I cross one stem over the other, wrap the top stem over the bottom before bending it to go in the same direction, then repeat with the next daisy and the next until I’ve formed a crown that will sit comfortably on Maisie’s golden curls.
Wanting to test it out, I carefully lace my horns through the crown and balance it on my head. And like the universe has a cruel sense of humor, that’s the moment Maisie appears in the clearing.
“You look incredibly pretty, Ren,” Maisie croons, just holding back a snort of laughter.
I flutter my lashes at her and put on an awfully high voice. “Why thank you, darling.”
Maisie’s laugh bursts out of her and I take a moment to just enjoy the sight. Dressed in a pretty sundress and with her hair piled on top of her head, Maisie looks like she’s walked straight out of my dreams. Her entire being exudes such effervescent joythat it reaches across the clearing and settles around me like a warm blanket.
Unwilling to wait a moment longer to touch her, I get up and stride toward her. Maisie meets me halfway and our arms wrap around each other in an embrace that feels both exhilarating and familiar.
“Hi, angel,” I say, tilting her head back so I can meet those pretty green eyes.
Maisie smiles, soft and excited. “Hi.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
The first pass of our lips is a sweet caress, but in no time it turns heated. I pull Maisie against me as she becomes pliant in my arms, our tongues stroking and our hands greedy.
Her arousal spikes, grazing against my still-saturated senses, and I take it as my sign to slow things down. The reason for today’s date was to woo her, not ravage her.
I take the crown off my head and place it on hers. “I made you something. A daisy halo for my angel.”
Maisie beams up at me. “I love it! Where did you learn how to make this? When?”
“The internet. This past week,” I admit shyly.
“For me?” The marvel in Maisie’s voice dissipates any hints of embarrassment I had at the admission.
“Of course,” I say, cupping her face between both my hands. “Despite what it looked like, I was just trying it on to check the size, not to actually wear it myself. Not today anyway,” I joke.
“Sure. We’ll go with that,” Maisie teases and winks at me.
“Come, sit. Eat something.”
