One Savory Summer

by Sharon Hughson

  * * * *

  Holt found a small shop that sold flowers on a side street in Coleman. After his run from town to Rebel’s farm, the bouquet of colorful wildflowers hung limply.

  He slung his bag into the branches overhead and wiped a single trickle of perspiration from his brow. He knelt beside the trickling creek.

  Magic hummed as water swept over the pebbles. Holt dabbed his index finger in the water and chanted in his native tongue. The essence of the water floated in the air and dropped like mist on the wilted flowers. At the touch of the energy, the flowers perked up, looking fresher than when he’d spent his last bill on them.

  Holt strolled over the browned grass toward the two-story structure where Rebel lived. Thinking of the cinnamon freckles adorning her chest made his stride lengthen. His fingers itched to wrap around the silken flame of her hair. Would it be as soft as it looked? He imagined her ruddy skin would burn beneath his touch.

  He sucked in the heavy air, inviting the magic from the moisture into his lungs. It was too soon to be thinking about her this way. Humans needed time to build trust. Look at the way they walled themselves into dead wooden structures. Their culture limited their ability to form immediate bonds. Or, maybe it was the lack of magic flowing through their blood.

  When Holt first started his outer realm explorations, some elves told him there was no magic on Earth, and he’d been afraid to travel here. Until he did. And discovered a wealth of magical energy lying untapped in every stream and plant. In moister regions, or near large bodies of water, it hung like clouds in the air.

  He reached the house and bounded up to the porch. The second stair bowed slightly beneath his foot. He skipped his weight to the next step before the boards could creak in alarm. He raised his hand and tapped his fist against the door. White paint flecked and peeled away beneath the vibrations.

  Human habitations boggled him. Why would they kill the trees to make homes? They had no choice, he supposed, since they couldn’t access the trees’ innate magic. His father, a leading architect in Evendon, designed amazing homes from living trees.

  A woof from the interior of the house shook Holt from thoughts of his parents. Not sharing their plant-based magic created a gulf between them. As if that wasn’t enough, everything they enjoyed burned like a fiery yoke on his shoulders.

  The hinges creaked when the door swung inward. Rebel made denim shorts and a baggy tank top look like high fashion. A few strands of fiery hair framed her oval face, kinked and curling from the moisture shining on her red face.

  Holt tightened his grip on the flowers, using both hands to keep from reaching for the silky locks.

  “Your clothes.”

  Holt relaxed against the door’s opening. “Payday.”

  Jewel sat on his feet.

  “I heard you were working at the car wash.”

  “Am I the talk of town?” Holt freed up one hand to massage the dog’s ears. She groaned.

  Rebel shook her head, glaring at the dog for a moment. Her lips pursed together, drawing Holt’s gaze to their succulence. Did they taste like the berries he often scented on her skin?

  He breathed through his nose and ordered his mind to stop wandering. “I brought these flowers.”

  Her face relaxed into a slight smile.

  Holt’s heart started another race. “To thank you for letting me stay in your tree.” He held them toward her. “For the sandwiches.”

  Rebel flicked her gaze from the bouquet clutched tightly in his hand to his eyes. She reached out, and Holt’s fingers ached to grasp hers. Instead, he straightened up and thrust the flowers at her.

  “It was nothing.” Her eyes moistened.

  Holt licked his parched lips.

  “But thank you.”

  The flowers were a good idea. The man at the store knew what he was talking about.

  Rebel’s fingers burned him when she brushed his hand to take hold of the gift.

  Holt slid his fingers across hers, relishing the way a fire burned along every nerve between his fingertips and heart. He leaned toward her, but the weight of the dog on his feet anchored him to the porch.

  “I’ll get these in water.”

  He watched her backside sway. His hungry gaze stroked her bare legs. A molten river of passion flowed to his hips. He forced his gaze to the dog, nudging her with one knee.

  You’re not helping.

  But maybe it was better he didn’t follow Rebel into the house. It was too soon for him to show the depth of his interest. Maybe by next Friday he’d know what to do, so she would invite him inside.

  “I guess this is a hint for more sandwiches.” Rebel carried the flowers in a vase, stopping in the doorway of another room.

  Holt’s stomach rumbled. Food in this realm didn’t satisfy the way elven bread could. His pack contained some of the food from home, but he liked the salty flavor of the cured meat and grainy texture of the bread Rebel gave him. Not as much as he liked watching her pass it to him, but savoring the snacks was as close as he could get to her at the moment.

  She disappeared through an inner doorway. When she returned, her hands were empty. She patted her thigh and called for Jewel.

  Holt stared at the place she’d touched, imagining his own hand caressing it.

  Jewel woofed and whined in her throat.

  Holt patted the dog’s head.

  Go on.

  Her warm tongue licked his kneecap before she turned away, claws clattering against the wooden floors.

  “I won’t say no to your delicious sandwiches.” Or your delicious lips.

  “I’ll have them out in a minute.”

  Holt closed the door and leaned against the post beside the stairs. Chickens clucked, scratching at the ground a few steps away. Wind carried the scent of fresh cut hay from the field across the road. He closed his eyes, memorizing each nuance and pairing sounds with scents, chasing thoughts of holding Rebel in his arms from his mind.

  When the time came for that, he planned to savor each sweet moment as he did every new experience on Earth.