Page 44 of The Incubus's Angel
Maisie swivels her hips playfully. “Glad I’m helping you stay healthy.”
Removing my hands from under her dress, I circle her waist and meet her eyes, gently brushing my thumbs along her ribcage. “You are. But please understand that it’s not the only reason I like you. I like you foryou, Maisie. We don’t have to do lessons or anything sexual ever again if you don’t want to. I just want to be with you.”
Maisie sweeps some hair off my forehead and traces my ears up to their pointed tips and down again until her hands settle around my neck. “Well, that’s good to hear because I like you for you too. Not because you’re an incubus who can play my body like I’m some instrument you’ve mastered. I want to spend time with you and get to know everything there is about you.”
My heart swells inside of my chest, pounding with three little words we might not yet be ready for. The words whisper their way up my throat, but I quickly swallow them down again.
Unaware of the battle between my heart, brain, and tongue, Maisie’s smile turns wistful. “Did I ever tell you about the firsttime I saw you?”
“You said you saw me at Bodin and Tilly’s ceremony?” I ask, my hands slowly kneading her thighs again, enjoying how easy and natural it feels to touch her like this.
Maisie nods. “Yeah. Calixta pointed you out to me when I mentioned I’ve been picking tangerines. My first thoughts were that you were the most attractive creature I’ve ever seen,” she says brightly, her eyes taking on a sheen like she’s recalling the moment in her mind.
I arch a brow. “And your second thought?”
Focusing back on me again, Maisie’s voice goes from teasing to sentimental. “Besides cataloging each of your sexy features, I thought you were shy and in need of a friend. I instantly knew I wanted to be your friend.”
My hands pause and I meet her glassy stare. “You’ve become my best friend, Maisie. And so much more.”
Her throat bobs on a swallow. “Mine too.”
“Do you want to know what I thought the first time I saw you?”
“Ooo, tell me!” Maisie wiggles on my lap, her watery smile morphing into excitement.
I take a steadying breath and tell her my truth. “My breath actually caught in my throat when I saw you at the ceremony. I thought that if luck was ever on my side, then I’d pick you.”
“Pick me for…?”
“For myself. To keep.”
“Will you keep me, Ren?” Maisie whispers.
“For as long as you’ll have me,” I vow.
Chapter 19
Ren
Over the next week, I hardly see Maisie. Barely a minute goes by where I don’t think of her, but she’s so dedicated to practicing each element of the cake, that we don’t have time for prolonged visits.
Some mornings she’ll stop by my cottage for a quick hello, a cuddle, and a couple of kisses before she’s off toward The Flowering Teapot again.
Besides her normal shifts where she’s responsible for manning the shop, she stays behind in the evenings to make practice cakes with the perfect buttercream frosting that’s not too sweet or too zesty—or Swiss meringuebuttercream as she explained, since there’s a big difference in the way it’s prepared as well as the taste.
I miss her so much and I know there’s no way I can envision my future without her in it. Life without Maisie seems implausible, it would be less colorful and profoundly dull. I refuse to even entertain such a notion.
Annamae’s recovery is going well and Maisie said she has one final checkup left at the big hospital in Cape Easton before Annamae will be cleared to return to work. Although it’s very welcome news, it’s also like a tightening noose on Maisie’s time in Starry Hill.
Unless I can give her a good enough reason to stay.
I’m not ready to let her go. Not tonight, not ever. I know how much she loves this community and all the friends she’s made here. If I can give her a reason to stay, ameansto stay, we might be able to get our happily ever after together.
I’m not so arrogant to think that simply asking her to stay with me, move in with me, and letting me take care of her would be enough. Maisie wants more out of life, she deserves more, and her baking talents deserve to be shared with the world. I just need to find a way to connect it all.
Opening the file on my computer that holds all the photos I’ve taken of Maisie’s bakes, I pick some of my favorites and compare them with the notes I’ve jotted down when she described them—the spices she used, the fruits, and even the flour.
Then, I get to work.
