Page 22 of Monster Among the Roses (Fairy Tale Quartet 1)

Sending her a crazy grin, because holy shit, there she was, in person, I chuckled. “What gave me away?”

She sighed heavily and wandered closer. “What exactly have you done to inspire my father to hire you as our handyman?”

“I have mastered the art of begging,” I answered, lifting my nose as if supremely proud of my ability.

Isobel quirked an eyebrow and slowed to a stop about five feet from the study table where I sat. “Pray tell, what does that mean?”

I stopped preening and sent her a rueful grin. “It means my mom owed him a debt…a very large debt. So I begged and pleaded until he agreed to let me try to work it off for her.”

Rolling her eyes as if finding that news typical of her father, she sighed. “I always knew his kind, generous heart would get him into trouble.”

Refusing to take her insult personally, I merely kept grinning. “Bet you won’t be saying that once I make you the most amazing bookshelves ever.”

She lifted an eyebrow, letting me know she highly doubted my abilities, but all she murmured was, “Hmm.”

I laughed and waved her forward. “Take a seat. Listen to my ideas. Then tell me what you really want.”

After a confused blink, she said, “What?”

“Let me know what you think about my ideas for your bookshelves.” I swiveled the piece of paper upside down so it’d be right-side up for her. “I already have a few plans.”

Successfully drawn in by the lure of bookshelves, she eased closer. Five feet became three. Then one. When she saw I really did have a ton of ideas, she silently pulled out the chair across from me and sat.

“Why are these shaded and these aren’t?”

“The shaded ones are the shelves already there,” I explained, growing eager to tell her the ideas stirring in my head. “The non-shaded ones are the ones I’d like to add.”

Her finger slid over the three rows of shelves positioned above the shaded ones. “But…”

“The walls in here are so tall,” I explained before she could ask. “Wouldn’t it be awesome if the shelves went all the way to the ceiling, and we installed one of those rolling library ladders to reach them?”

Lips parting in awe, she turned toward the wall where I wanted to do just that. “That would be so cool,” she breathed more to herself than to me, in a voice I’d never heard her use before, a voice I had a feeling was her real one, not some haughty tone she put on just to speak to me.

Then, suddenly, as if remembering herself, she cleared her throat and spun back to me, her cheeks tinged with pink.

A smile exploded across my face. “I know, right?” I tugged the sheet of paper closer to me so I could point out a few more ideas. “And the shelves you have now are fixed and permanent. But I’d like to install adjustable ones. You don’t organize your books in alphabetical order, so it would be easy to economize space by grouping similar-sized books on each row to fit in more rows.”

Her face shot up. “How do you know I don’t organize alphabetically?”

The look I sent her was sly and knowing. Ignoring the question, I tapped my finger against the design. “I’ll figure out what wood and styles the current shelves are and try to imitate them, unless you want something different.”

Isobel stared at me a moment, obviously still stuck on the fact that I knew her library so well, before she shook her head and blinked. “I…the same style would be fine.”

“Okay, then.” I nodded. “I’ll look for a matching stain finish while I’m at it. Did you want doors on any of the shelves to house some of your favorite or rarer books?”

“I…” She turned to study the wall. Then she nodded. “Yes, I think that would be lovely to have maybe one bookcase with doors. Thank you.”

I’m absolutely positive her thank you came out completely by accident, maybe without her being aware she’d said it. It took everything inside me not to react in fear she’d realize what she’d just said and try to retract it.

I liked this side of her, this softer, human side. I liked it a lot. Maybe even more than her bitchy side.

“Great,” I said, jotting down a note that she needed some doors as I tried to control the racing of my heart. “Is there anything in my plans you want to alter?”

She blinked at the scribbles I’d made, and I took a second to clear my throat. “Sorry, I’m not much of an artist. Hopefully you can still understand what I was trying to convey though.”

“Yeah,” she murmured vaguely, “I mean…” She looked up into my face. “Actually, this looks fine. If you can do it.”

I gazed into her unnaturally blue eyes and felt something inside my chest unfurl. Why did she have to seem so soft, almost vulnerable, today? It tugged at something protective inside me.

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