Away With the Fairies (The Swallow Barn Cottage Series, Book 2)

Angry for You

She woke up the next morning in an empty bed. She stretched and wiggled her toes. The previous night had been no less... satisfying. Exciting. Wild. Tender. Playful. Kinky. Indecent. So perfect. All Will, and nothing else. She rolled on her back with a giggle and covered her face with her hands. Look at silly Fiona. Discovering the joys of shag at 32. Like a randy teen. She caught the smell of coffee in the air, floundered, and climbed out of the bed. She pulled her robe over her starkers body and bounced downstairs.

He was beating eggs in a bowl, and she could see a pan on a hob, and it smelled like bacon in the air. Fiona made a few tiny tiptoeing steps towards him and wiggled her fingers in the air. She could already imagine sliding her hands on his warm sides when–

"Should you be sneaking up on a soldier with a PTSD?" he asked.

Fiona stopped and made a 'pfft' noise.

"You could've pretended you didn't know I was behind you," she said.

"Don't want to encourage your risky behaviours."

Fiona who was wrapping her arms around him and was going to press her nose to his - wonderful, familiar, warm - back, froze.

Risky behaviours.

He looked at her over his shoulder, she felt his movement, but she couldn't meet his eyes.

"Fiona?"

"I–" You don't have to answer every time you're addressed. You don't have to explain yourself. "I–"

He quickly turned around and picked up her chin.

"What's up?" he asked, frowning.

Is he rewinding their conversation in his mind?

"I'm not dangerous, Fiona. It was a joke," he said darkly.

"What? No! I don't think you're dangerous!" she exclaimed, shaken out of her stupor. "I never do! It's just you said 'risky behaviours,' and–" she whispered.

"It was a joke," he repeated slowly.

"Yes, yes, of course," she rushed to say. "I just worry, you see. Because of my Mum. That I do something unhealthy."

He suddenly chuckled and pulled her in a tight hug. She hid her face into his chest.

"I honestly don't see why you keep saying it," she whispered. "Like I'm supposed to be scared of you. I've never felt safer in my life." She rubbed her cheek to him. "It's like– I don't know– It all just makes sense to me."

"What 'it?'" he asked quietly.

"You. You make sense. Being here with you." She closed her eyes. "Like this."

They stood for a few seconds, and then he let her go.

"Our bacon's burning," he said and turned to the stove.

Fiona took a few steps back, giving him space.

"Doesn't make sense to my family," he said offhandedly, pouring eggs into the pan.

"What?" she asked, tearing her eyes off his shoulders. Remember how you bit it last night, because you were straddling him, and he helped you to rise, and then you dropped, and something as if exploded in your noggin like fireworks? "Is that why your brother came here yesterday?" she exclaimed in sudden realisation. "And your sister-in-law. Are they– checking on you?! And making sure you and I– what?"

He didn't answer, just continued stirring their eggs.

"That's– so unfair," she exhaled. "I don't like it. It's– You said you're on medication, and I assume you're in therapy as well. Shouldn't they trust your judgement, whether it's safe or not safe for someone to stay with you?"