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CHAPTER ELEVEN

RAIN

Goran came in from the barn smelling like plum and beast, and stopped inside the door, where he heeled off his boots. His hair hung damp around his neck. He must’ve washed in the barn before coming inside. His clean clothing told me he’d changed as well.

His gaze shot to the hallway. The only bedroom.

“You’ll take the bed,” I said.

“No.”

“You have a hole in your side.”

“I’ll take the bench.”

He said it fast. That was the first thing. The second was that he said it to the stove.

“Have you ever slept on a wound like that?” I asked, studying the bench that was barely wide enough for more than a few ogre asses.

“The ground’s worse.”

“You didn’t answer my question, which is a thing careful males do when they’d rather not give a straight answer.” I placed the kettle on the stove. “It’s four feet of oak, Goran. You’re seven feet of ogre.”

“Nearly eight.”

“Eight, then. Nearly. Where do you plan to put your legs?”

“Kitchen chair. Under the feet. Works.”

“You’re lying to me.”

His gaze fell to the floor, and he shuffled his stockinged feet.

“Was passing through,” I said. “You said that to me. During a storm. Your home is three miles east of my tea shop. You went out in the rain, leaving the perfectly good roof you had over your head, coming all the way into town, and you told me you were passing through. You’re a terrible liar, Goran Brack. You do it the same way every time.”

His jaw worked. “Take the bed.”

“Two people could sleep in that bed for a week and never realize the other was there.” I directed my gaze at the kettle, no better at looking his way than he was with me. “Take half of it. I’ll take the other half. Nobody has to be a hero.”

The kitchen went quiet.

I turned around.

He’d gone gold from his collar to his hairline, and was looking at me like I’d handed him something breakable and he had nowhere to set it down.

“No,” he said.

“Goran—”

“Bed’s yours.” He pulled the quilt off the bench back and shook it out. As if that was the end of the discussion.

“You will not fit.”

“I will.”

He did not fit.

I stood in the doorway and watched him try anyway. He sat down on it. Then he lay down on it, but he ran out of bench at about the knee. He brought a kitchen chair over, put his feet on it, and pulled the quilt up to his chin.