The Fix Is In (Torus Intercession 4)

“I don’t make a––”

“You do. It happens a lot, but I’m not upset.”

“Okay. Well, that’s good,” I returned sarcastically. “Who’s Stewart?”

“The ranger here in Rune. Stewart Alameda. He’s very nice. His wife makes excellent figgy pudding for Yule.”

I was tired already, and the day wasn’t even half over yet. “You said Harold didn’t think anyone would be shooting at him. Why not?”

“He never leaves his land. It’s close to a couple of days’ walk in every direction from his cabin, cottage, whatever. Anyway, he has supplies delivered, and he only knows a handful of people, me and Sian and––”

“Fine.” I bit off the word, stopping him. “He agreed someone was shooting at you.”

“Mm-hm. I thought maybe there was a spirit in the woods that wanted to speak to me after the ghost box jumped out of my hand, but when I went to pick it up, Harold made me crouch down behind a tree.”

Christ. “He probably saved your life.”

“I don’t—see, I think maybe someone was hunting on his land, even though Harold doesn’t allow it, and they were shooting at something else but the bullet went wide.”

“What did Harold think?”

“That someone was either trying to kill me with a gun they weren’t familiar with, or they were trying to scare me with a gun they were crazy accurate with.”

He could have been killed, and that thought drilling through my skull made me move my arm from the back of the couch to wrap around his shoulders. “Scare you why?”

“I have no idea,” he said with a yawn. “And may I say, I’m so glad you don’t have a problem with me being in your personal space. I think I’m going to build a home here.”

The thing was I did have an issue with almost everyone else, but for whatever reason, Benji didn’t bother me in the least. In fact, there was something unique about the way he spoke and carried himself. He was gentle, and he laughed freely and often, and he had a smile that made me feel at ease in his presence.

He sat up then, using my thigh as leverage to turn and face me, and I felt a familiar roll of desire, a flutter of heat that went straight to my cock when he touched me. What the hell was happening?

Faced with his gorgeous blue eyes locked onto mine, I was mute.

“I need to get something out in the open.”

I nodded to get him to start.

“Am I attracted to you?” It was rhetorical. I wasn’t stupid. “Yes, very much so. Are you easily the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on?” His gaze softened. “Again, yes. But if you want me on the other end of the couch, if you would prefer I not touch you at all and stay completely out of your personal space, you have only to say the word.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“I mean, c’mon, anyone can see you’re beautiful.”

“Hm”—he sounded wistful—“I don’t know about anyone.”

“It’s true.” I shrugged. “The thing is, though, I’m here to take care of you. I’m here to keep you safe, and I certainly can’t do that if I’m sleeping in your bed.”

“Why not?” he asked without missing a beat, and I liked that he didn’t play games, none of that “Who said I wanted you in my bed?” kind of crap. He was honest and said what he meant and felt, and that was one of my favorite qualities in people. Life was too short not to have everything out in the open so everyone knew where they stood.

“Because my focus would be on being with you and not protecting you,” I explained.

He was looking at me and mulling that over, and there were so many emotions crossing his face, running the gamut from hope to resignation. It was hard to see his face go from bright and cheerful to sadness, and I felt like crap, but lying to him just because I liked him happy and playful was a shitty way to start a relationship. Not a romantic one, but any kind of friendship, or even something that would ever only be professional. I needed to be honest even if that meant he wouldn’t flirt with me anymore. I would miss his interest; it was nice to be wanted by a handsome man.

He was sitting there considering what I said, and was, I suspected, working on a response. As he pondered, he chewed on his bottom lip like he was nervous. It was pillowy and plump, and I didn’t want him to bite too hard, so I reached out and ran my thumb over the spot.

His catch of breath drew my attention from his mouth back to his eyes.

“How about this?” he began shakily. “For now, you could let me be close to you, and once you figure out who, or what, wants to do me harm––”