Page 99 of Bound

And it turned to a comfort rather than a bother.

He could only draw out oiling for so long before it became clear he was merely sitting in the pasture with her hesper, biding his time and pretending he had business there. She confronted him on the second day, and he made another attempt at one of her shrugs—and it looked as awkward and unwieldy as it had the first time.

It brought a smile to her lips, however, which she was rather certain was his aim.

But the next time he visited, it was with a load of wood and tools in a cart. Just a delivery, he said. She needn’t pay it any mind.

Which of course was nonsense as she poked around all of the supplies while he took the cart and its hesper back from whence it came. They should fight about it. He hadn’t the right to build anything at all, and nothing was in such disrepair that he should need a pile of boards quite that high.

He came back while she was making biscuits. Did not even have the courtesy to knock on her door, merely stuck his head through the open kitchen window.

“Smells good,” he observed, his eyes darting about in search of the source.

“A pity, since I only share with those I’ve bargained with. And you seem to be dreaming up work all on your own.”

He had the audacity to place his forearms on the kitchen window ledge, and her mouth tightened. He looked too relaxed, too much like he belonged there. Too amiable and easy while she was all twisted up inside whenever he was near.

“It seemed rude to bring up a problem without being willing to tend to the solution myself.”

Her brow quirked. “Problem?”

At least he moved his arms, even if it was to rub at the back of his neck instead. “Your front door is cracking in the suns. The house should have a porch this direction. Keep out the rains as well.”

It wasn’t an insult to her father. It wasn’t. Her mother either. It had been more than enough to have a house at all, even if it wasn’t perfect.

“Don’t look like that,” Braum urged, leaning forward again. “I mean no insult. You’ll like it. And if you don’t, I’ll rip it off again. Put it all back as it was, cracks and all.”

What bothered her most was that she hadn’t noticed. She used that door every day. Multiple times a day, but when was the last time she’d looked at it. She couldn’t recall.

But he had.

And he’d said nothing. To save her adding it to her list of things that needed her attention. Needed skills she did not possess.

“That will take ages, won’t it?” Wren fretted, fiddling with the cloth she’d soon use to pull the biscuits from the heat.

He hummed a little, still watching her, still bracing himself for her objections. The ones she should have. That, even now, were bubbling, simmering in her veins. Warnings and cautions that had felt like the wisdom of experience and now...

Felt like fussing for no reason.

Because Braum wanted to be here. Wanted to be doing these things.

“It takes what it takes. Besides, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

He shouldn’t say such things. Not when it left her flustered and uncertain.

“Does that count as a bargain? Have I earned a biscuit later?”

She tugged at her braid, willing the heat to leave her cheeks. “Maybe.”

He grinned at her. Which only made her stomach twist as she flicked the cloth in her hand in his direction. “Leave me be,” she insisted. “I’ve work to do.”

He chuckled, and left her window.

???

A porch was not what she expected.

She’d thought it an overhang above the door to keep out the rain and sun. A little shade, a bit of shelter.