Page 12 of Red

I sat down, trying not to watch him eat. Another thing I’d forgotten in my time alone: how nice it was to have someone appreciate your cooking. Granted, he must’ve been famished enough to eat grass with the sheep, but it still felt nice. “Not sure what you’re used to, for food.”

Dammit. Forgot how to make conversation, too, clearly.

But he said, “Usually just coffee, though I’ve tried to get better about it. Sometimes I remember to grab a yogurt before I rush out the door.”

“To where?”

“Work.” And then he screwed up his face comically. “Fuck. Work.”

“They’ll be missing you,” I realized.

He slumped back into the couch. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s only been one day and it’s still the weekend. Who fucking knows?”

Right. The time thing. “You, er… you like your job, then?”

“Not much,” he said with a sigh. Then shook his head. “I’m a social media director for a big retail company.”

“I… think I know what retail is,” I admitted.

He shot me a sideways look. Smiled faintly, crinkling his dark eyes. “Speaking of which. Who are you?”

I glanced around the room as if someone else would answer the question. When it became abundantly clear he expected and answer from me, I said, “Jack. Greenwood.”

“Jack Greenwood. Like the forest.”

“What do you mean?”

“Amma always said her ruin was on the edge of something called the Greenwood. Wulfric said he was taking me there.”

Huh. That was news to me. But then, Ma Greenwood had her ways.

He took another thoughtful bite of his porridge. Then said, “And your job is…?”

Right, this one, I knew. “I take care of the forest.”

“Uh-huh. And how long have you had this job? By your own reckoning; don’t worry about time being weird or whatever.”

Dammit. I shrugged. “A long time. Long as I can remember.”

“You said you don’t like remembering,” he pointed out.

Dammit. I shoved an extra-large spoonful of food into my mouth.

“Okay, fine. So who gave you this job?” he tried.

The porridge in my mouth had the consistency of glue now it’d been there too long. I took my time with it anyhow, making a show of my cheeks being full.

His smile grew even bigger, eyes twinkling like he knew.

Finally, I swallowed and said, “It’s a long story.”

“Longer than breakfast?”

Actually, no. And yet…

Red sighed. “Look, you’ve been amazing. Totally saved my life. Kept me safe. Kept me warm.”

Was it my imagination, or did he flush a little at that last thing. Because I certainly did. My gaze fell to his chest, his compact body shrouded in my ill-fitting things. The way he’d felt against my bare chest, the way I’d wanted to tangle my legs up with his and put my arm around his middle. Keep him safe; feel him close.