Every Bookshop Needs a Cat (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 2)

Stumble and Fall

A double update for you today, my darlings. You can thank all the chocolates I've been devouring for this :) Don't miss the second half.

Hope you like it!

Cheers,

K. xx

***

"It's raining again," he murmured, and Anya turned her head and looked at the window.

"It is," she said.

"Anna," he called, and she turned back and met his eyes. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Anya snorted, entertained by his serious tone - and he hissed and jerked.

"Let me clean up first," he muttered, and she saw a light blush rose up his cheekbones.

This charming embarrassment of his was utterly amusing, but it made sense. He simply didn't have enough experience with boring committed relationships to feel comfortable with the mundane, messy side of physical intimacy. After he moved away, she rolled on her side, giving him privacy. The bed bobbed, he opened and closed the drawer of the bedside table. Anya watched another of the Fleckney rains cascading down the window glass.

His fingers lightly stroked her ear and the side of her neck, and she felt the tip of his nose press into her shoulder.

"So, how are you feeling?" he asked.

"Sore," she answered and chuckled. "Happy," she added. "You?"

He softly brushed his lips to her skin.

"Let's get married in September," he said quietly.

Anya stiffened.

"Why in September?" she asked after swallowing a knot in her throat.

"Amira told me the Hall's booked for weddings and other receptions till the end of August," he said. "So, unless you don't want an Autumn wedding–" he trailed away and kissed her shoulder again. "Anna?" he called to her again, since she wasn't saying anything.

"Isn't it a bit... soon?" she asked, not quite sure how to put her tangling thoughts into words.

"Soon compared to what? Is there a specific timeline?" he asked.

"Well, you've only known me for about six months, and you're still recovering after your operation," she said flatly.

"Darling, could you please look at me?" he said, his voice growing tense; and Anya grudgingly shifted and lay down on her back.

He had his cheek on his palm, supporting himself on his elbow. Anya cowardly averted her eyes.

"Are you bottling something up again, min igelkott?"

Anya huffed, pretending to be annoyed by this new 'hedgehog' nickname he'd been using for her - and then she yelped, because he poked her into her ribs with his long index finger.

"Well, what is it?" he asked. "Anna? Don't make me tickle it out of you."

"I just think you should give yourself time to think about it," she answered reluctantly.

"Ah, I see," he said. "We're back to that, I reckon. You're concerned whether I have had enough time to think about it, and whether I might be rushing things. Am I correct?"

Anya pursed her lips and gave him a stubborn look.

"What about you then?" he asked, his features setting in harsh lines. "Am I right to assume that you're fine with anything? Wedding, no wedding, baby, no baby..."