Now I sit with the sword in my lap, carefully polishing the metal, holding the blade steady so there’s no hint of a swing in the motion. Otherwise it might demolish the counter in front of me. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re humming.”
“I sometimes hum when I work.”
“No, you don’t. You never hum. And you’ve had a ridiculous grin on your face all day. Care to share the good news?”
I can feel the blush on my cheeks. “Obviously I’m excited about the sword.” Though that wasn’t what I’d been thinking about at all.
Temra stops sweeping and leans the broom against a display case. “Spill, Ziva.”
I’m obviously not a very good liar. “I saw someone, if you really must know.”
“Why should seeing someone put you in a good mood?”
“Temra, let it go. It was no big deal. This guy just walked by the forge, and—”
“A guy! Your cheeks are brighter than tomatoes.”
“He was … attractive.”
“You don’t think anyone is attractive.”
“I’m aware of that, Temra! Can we stop talking about it now?”
She slides into the chair next to me and tries to wrest the cloth from my grip, but I snatch it out of reach.
“No, you’re going to give me details,” she demands.
“There’s nothing to tell. He was tall. Golden-red hair. Carries a sword.”
“Did he wear a uniform?”
“No.”
“Too bad. Men in uniforms are extra handsome. I wonder if he’s a local or if he’s just passing through? We should check all the inns on this side of the city. Just in case.”
“Absolutely not!”
“But this is a huge thing for you!”
“Don’t make a big deal out of this. I feel weird enough as it is.”
“But you should talk to him. Maybe do other things with him.” Her wicked grin is out in full force.
Is it possible to singe my own brows off? Because I think my face might be reaching extreme temperatures.
“I don’t want to do any of that.”
“But—”
“I’m not you. That’s not how I work.” I don’t bother to try to explain how it’s not worth the discomfort and anxiety. My panic is so overwhelming at times, I simply couldn’t bear to be near him. And if he ever looked at me—
I can’t even imagine how I would react.
“You pushing the matter is just going to make me run in the other direction,” I finish.
Temra lets out a frustrated growl, but after what appears to be a mental argument with herself, she sighs. “Fine. Do what you will. But your handsome stranger might not be in town long. Just think about that. Now, I’m going to be late for class.”
She leaves me alone with my thoughts, and I pick back up the tune I’d started. It’s a love song, I think. Something Mother would sing to me when I was little. I don’t remember any of the words. Just the tune.
The doors open, and I look up, expecting Temra. “Did you forget something or are you back to make fun o—”
I drop the sword, but it isn’t followed by a clatter so much as a shink!
Instinctively, I look down—the broadsword landed point first, and it went right through the floor, stopping with the hilt protruding out of the ground.
My gaze flits madly between where the sword lies imbedded in the ground behind the front desk and the man who entered the shop.
My man.
No, not my man.
But the man.
The golden-red-haired stranger with a longsword on his back.
“Sorry, should I have knocked? This is a shop, right? Not a private residence?”
His voice is like the deep cadence of water running over rock.
How is even the sound of his voice attractive? One shouldn’t be attracted to a voice, right? Maybe there is more wrong with me than I realized.
Or maybe there’s just something wrong with him. He shouldn’t exist. It isn’t right to look that perfect. To sound that perfect.
I make the mistake of meeting his gaze. Never before have I looked away so quickly. I think my whole body has gone red, and I know he can see that. Which only makes me more embarrassed and awkward and I want to be anywhere else.
After a silence that progresses too long, he says, “I’m here to see the blacksmith. Is Ziva in? I was hoping to commission a longsword.”
Why didn’t I put the sign out that says the shop is closed? I do that when Temra leaves for school, but I was too busy …