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“It’ll be okay,” he says, sitting back on his heels.
I look at him. Tears, hot and blurring, press at my eyes, but I blink them away. “Will it? I know this is bad. And—”
“Hey.”
Swiping a hand at my eyes, even though the tears don’t fall, I swallow and shake my head. “I don’t know why I’m suddenly feeling overwhelmed. I face crap every day. And I don’t get all whatever this is.”
“You don’t need to act like a Valkyrie every waking second to be one.” Magnus gets to his feet and holds out his hand, and I place mine in his, letting him pull me to my feet. “Thing is, you’re used to taking on the world, but right now, you don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.”
“It’s not going to crumble if you take a moment for yourself. And you’re not alone. I might be shit at a lot of practical things you do in your sleep, but I’ve got strong shoulders.”
I just stare at him. If he keeps going, I’m going to be a drowned rat in other ways. Like stupid tears.
“Zoey?” He’s smiling, and it’s soft and inviting and I want to curl up in its center. Metaphorically.
“I’m okay. I just needed a moment. And now I’ve had one. I’m just going to get this cleaned—”
“No. You’re not.”
“I’m not?”
“Nope. You’re going to put on dry clothes, then sit on your sofa and have a cookie. I know you want one.”
“Ass.”
He grins. “That’s no way to talk to the man who’s going to take care of this watery mess for you. And feed you.” He looks about as he grabs the glass cookie jar on the counter and dumps three on a plate. Then he turns to me. “Get changed.”
I do, leaving my soaked clothes in the basket in my room and pulling on fresh jeans and a T-shirt, leaving my feet bare. When I go back to the kitchen, Magnus is texting.
I don’t know if he sees me, but he finishes and puts his phone in his pocket and picks up an unopened bottle of merlot. Then he looks right at me, like he knows whenever I’m there.
It makes my breath hitch in my throat.
He shakes the bottle at me. “What do you have that’s stronger than wine?”
“I don’t need a drink.” I don’t, but now he’s suggested it the thought is comforting, almost as comforting as he’s being. Like this, a girl could fall head over heels for him.
What am I thinking?
A girl could take one look at him and fall head over heels. This is just the delicious center of the cake beneath the glorious icing.
I push a hand through my wet hair, trying to calm the thud of my heart that’s spiking high. “I think there’s something in the pantry.”
Magnus roots around and pulls out a dusty bottle. “Sherry?”
“It’s a thing.” I give him a challenging look as he pulls down a glass for the fortified wine. “People pay good money for good sherry.”
“Good being the operative word.” He unscrews it and sniffs. Then recoils. “Fucking hell. No.”
He puts the lid back on and digs around some more, finally pulling out something I’d forgotten about. I think it’s vanilla vodka Suzanna once insisted we drink. He sniffs this, wrinkles his nose and shrugs. “This is also bad. But not as bad as the sherry…it’ll do.”
The amusement in his voice that battles pure disgust warms. He pours me a glass, adds some ice, gives me the cookies, then makes me go to the living room and sit. I feel like some overgrown child, but it’s nice, the pampering. His phone buzzes, and Magnus glances at the screen and holds up a finger.
“Everything okay?” I ask. I can’t help it. Even with my mini disaster going on, I know there’s a lot happening in his life.
“Don’t worry.” He smiles, flashing his dimple as he goes into the kitchen, clearly talking to his gran. When the plumber comes, Magnus takes care of that, too, letting the guy in and bringing him up here. I know it’s going to cost a fortune, but right now I don’t let myself go there.
