“Juan Medina.”
“I’ve never heard of him.” There was no possibility this man was as connected as he’d led Michael to believe. He sounded like a bully who saw an easy target in an outsider with no family to protect him. Amaia had ways of dealing with haughty humans.
“Well, now you have. I’m sorry to burden you with this. It’s my problem. I’ll take care of it.”
“Nonsense. What are friends for? I’m sure everything will be fine. There’s no sense worrying about it now. Why don’t we go down to the lake?”
“I have too much work to do, and I’m afraid I won’t be good company today. I’m sorry, Amaia. I hate to waste the time that you’re here.”
Amaia shrugged. “If you have work to do, then you have work to do. It’s not a problem, Michael. I can help, if you’d like.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, but I don’t think you can exactly make horseshoes for me.”
“No, but I can clean and cook.” That was a bit of an overstatement. Amaia wasn’t exactly one for domestic duties, but her speed would aid her in cleaning the hut he called a house, and there was no way she could cook anything worse than the gruel, stews, and tough meat he was used to eating.
Michael cocked an eyebrow. “Since when?”
Amaia opened her mouth in mock offense. “Since the last century. I have learned some things.”
“You really don’t need to.”
“Shush. I’m not asking permission. You finish what you need to. I’ll be in the house cleaning. We’ll eat in two hours. Even you need to eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Michael smiled, and it changed his whole demeanor. His gray eyes became warm and inviting. He should never need to furrow his brow in worry.
Two hours later, they dined on a passable rabbit stew.
“Thank you, Amaia. This stew is wonderful.” Michael polished off his bowl.
Amaia knew it was nothing extraordinary, but Michael made the requisite pleasurable sounds. “I know cooking’s not my strength. Flattery gets you nowhere.”
“All right, well it’s not the best I’ve ever tasted, but I can’t believe you were able to make it and get this house cleaned. That really is incredible. I don’t think this place has ever looked so nice.” Michael seemed to be in genuine awe of the job she had done.
Amaia wondered if perhaps she had moved a little too fast. Given her anxiety about her lack of domestic skill, she had simply tried to do as much as possible. “Thank you. I figure you deserve a nice, clean home. I know you’re too busy to get around to it. You could really use a woman’s touch around here, Michael.”
“Are you offering?” Michael made eye contact. Buried under his jest was a minuscule speck of hope.
Amaia laughed. “No, I’m not. I mean it, though. Why don’t you find yourself a nice woman to cook and clean and keep you?”
“I’ll not marry a woman for domestic servitude, Amaia. It’s not in my nature.”
“No, it’s not, is it?” Amaia wondered at the man in front of her. No matter the time he found himself born into, he was a rare creature.
“I manage fine on my own. A woman isn’t worth the headaches she brings unless you love her.”
Amaia didn’t need to feel the warmth in his energy to know what he left unsaid. Amaia knew she was headache inducing and that Michael would gladly endure them all if she let him. His eyes delved into her, seeing her so deeply that she had an irrational fear that he would see her absence of humanity. She broke his gaze. In her head, she heard Liam scoffing at her for being unable to hold the stare of a human. “Well, you won’t find love unless you look for it.”
“That’s not been my experience, but I do know what you’re saying, Amaia. Finding love doesn’t seem to be my problem. Finding someone who returns the feeling is.”
“Michael, that’s not fair.”
“I know. I’ve told you before, fairness doesn’t concern me. My honor doesn’t extend that far. You are all that matters.”
They sat in silence for a minute, enveloped in a haze of warmth that wasn’t entirely the product of the kitchen fire. Amaia wasn’t eager to break it. It reminded her of the serenity in Cho’s garden. Why she couldn’t feel this way anywhere else was a mystery. However, she needed to leave. If it got much later, Michael would want to escort her, and that would pose a major problem, especially since she had some errands to run.
“I must get going. I’ll be missed if I’m not home by nightfall.” Amaia stood, and Michael followed suit.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to escort you?” Michael was always, in a good way, predictable.
“We’ve been over this, Michael. There’s no sense in it. I’ve been walking myself home my entire life, and nothing bad has ever happened.” Besides, even if something were to happen, it would be she who would do the protecting.
“I just want to make sure you’re safe.”