Free Tiny Glitches: A Magical Contemporary Romance by Rebecca Chastain Page A

suggested it.
    I turned my attention back to Kyoko, who was splashing water at no one in particular.
    “Okay, let’s get you clean,” I said, abandoning my original plan for payback. I detached the head of the pool brush from the pole and stepped into the pool beside Kyoko, brush in one hand, hose in the other. Kyoko had to examine the brush, then the end of the hose—which she shoved into her mouth for a drink—before allowing me to bathe her. The step was gritty under my feet by the time Kyoko moseyed over to the lawn and rolled. I glared as all my hard work was smeared with grass and dirt. At least she no longer smelled like a manure pile.
    Hudson turned off the water to the hose and helped me coil it back up.
    “That was nice of you,” he said. “I think she liked it.”
    He stood close enough for my chilled, wet skin to feel his body’s radiating heat. I looked a mess—wet hair stringy, arms mud splattered, my dress clinging in wrinkled clusters on my thighs—but Hudson’s expression said otherwise. I recognized the hunger on his face; it was mirrored on my own.

CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    I forced myself back a step. I didn’t normally retreat from intense chemistry, but one of us needed to be rational. The bizarre circumstances of our tenuous acquaintance could have been skewing our reactions. What felt like lust could have been a byproduct of adrenaline and the psychological bond created by shared danger.
    My gaze dipped to his lips. Okay, had we not been at my aunt’s, and had she not been within shouting distance, I probably wouldn’t have bothered with thinking. Hudson was hot, he was looking at me like he wanted to lick me dry, and I was eager to see under his clothes.
    I nibbled my bottom lip and shuffled around him. “I, uh, I’m going to get cleaned up.” His stare warmed my skin until I closed the pool house door behind me.
    Twenty minutes later, I’d showered and dressed in soft, worn jeans and a T-shirt, thanks to a stocked dresser in the pool house.
    When Sofie had first purchased this property, the pool house had been off-limits to me. It had been where she’d kept all the appliances, conducted her Internet transactions and phone conversations, and worked at night. The big house had been where we’d lived, and the distance between the pool house and main house stretched far enough to prevent me from killing all of Sofie’s electronics.
    Now the pool house had been stripped of appliances and converted into my oasis away from home, complete with my own decor. Given its location next to the pool and the view of the ocean, I’d balanced the interior with fire and earth elements. I’d selected minimalist but inviting furniture, and the light-colored, warm-hued walls drew in the outdoor light to compensate for the usual lack of electricity. The addition of candles throughout the bathroom, dinette, and bedroom added to the retreat vibe.
    I ran my finger along the spines of books on the single slender bookcase while I towel-dried my hair. Sofie saved titles she thought I would like, and I snagged a copy of Bill Bryson’s I’m a Stranger Here Myself , holding the book up to catch the setting sun’s rays so I could read the back cover. I turned at the scrabble of nails on rock in time to see Dali race past the sliding glass doors and across the lawn after a ball. Kyoko trotted in his wake, trunk and tail up, sounding like . . . well, like a herd of elephants running past.
    Nope, only one, I thought, then grinned. The whole situation was absurd, made no less so by my aunt’s calm acceptance. She stood in the middle of the yard throwing the ball for Dali and Kyoko as if elephant visitors were an everyday occurrence. The sunset highlighted her auburn hair and glowed in her dark eyes. The soft light washed away a dozen years, and not for the first time, I wished she had been the pregnant teen to give birth to me.
    Dali dropped the ball at her feet, but Sofie sidestepped when Kyoko barreled up