Falling for the Beast (A Modern Fairy Tale Duet 2)

Oh yes, the overprotective bird had most definitely left the tree.

“Telling all my secrets, hmm?” Erin asked, sitting at a place that had been laid out with a chipped plate and glass of orange juice.

“Of course not,” her mother denied, the barely suppressed amusement belying her words. “Just that time in fifth grade when you had discovered Robin Hood.”

Erin groaned. “Oh God. That’s even worse than I expected.”

“What? It’s cute.”

A smile played at her mother’s lips. It was good to see her enjoying herself, even if it was at Erin’s expense. “Can we just show him pictures of me as a baby instead? That would be less embarrassing.”

“You were adorable with your hair pulled up into that felt green hat. Those neighborhood boys didn’t know what to make of you. You should have seen them staring.”

“That is not a compliment, Mom.” She sneaked a glance at Blake, who watched the byplay with undisguised amusement.

“I heard there was a bow and arrow,” he added, his voice teasing.

Her mother sighed with pleasure. “The arrows had glittered feathers glued on.”

“Okay, look,” Erin said, finally rising to her own defense. “They were taking money out of the community center’s donation box. It’s not right. You can’t fault my motives.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Blake said solemnly. “Not with you armed and dangerous.”

She narrowed her eyes, promising retribution when her mother wasn’t in the room, but the effect was ruined by her grin. Oh well, it had been funny. Not at the time, when she’d been sure that injustice could be cured with a curved stick and some twine.

And somehow, it had worked, because like her mother had said, the boys had been too freaked out by her Robin Hood routine to really argue the point. They’d never touched the donations box again. Though she’d learned later in life that good intentions and bravery and a green felt hat weren’t enough to right every wrong.

The thought stopped her cold. When had she become so jaded? During high school, with Doug? She wasn’t sure, but none of that was true. Good intentions and bravery were enough. Maybe that was what had drawn her to Blake. He embodied both ideals.

Not even fire could stop him; his scars were a testament to that.

He seemed to recognize the change in her mood, because he sobered. The playful light in his eyes gave way to a studied concern. Without taking her eyes off Blake, she spoke to her mother, who was sipping the last dregs of her coffee.

“If you’re done here, I can set you up on the couch. You can watch some TV.”

Her mother huffed. “I don’t need help to make it to the living room.”

“All the same, I’ll walk you there.”

She set her mother up with pillows and a glass of water too. Even with the doctor’s blessing, she worried for her mother. And despite the urgency to return to Tanglewood, to pick up her relationship with Blake, she would stay until her mother would be fine on her own.

Sophie leaned on her arm as she stood from the table and crossed the short distance, proving that Erin was needed here for the time being. She found a blanket for her mother’s feet and also a few beloved books for her to look at. She told herself she was just taking care of her mother, but at least partly, she was distracting her.

A burning, aching need had formed inside her—to talk to Blake, to hold him, and she couldn’t very well do that with her mother looking on in the small space.

The television roared with laughter and voices as a morning talk show flickered on and captured her mother’s attention. Erin bustled back into the kitchen under the pretense of cleaning up to find that Blake had already done so. He cooked, he cleaned. For her sick mother.

God, if she weren’t already in love with him…but she was.

Completely, hopelessly in love.

He glanced up from the sink of soapy water. “Why are you smiling?”

She went to stand behind him, wrapping her arms around his lean waist and resting her head against his back. “Just imagining doing this in your house when I get back. In our house.”

He tensed in her arms, his muscles locking. “Erin.”

She laughed at the note of warning in his voice. It was a sensual threat, the way his body readied for hers. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about me moving in with you.”