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“So I’ll come around eight,” he said.

Edith glanced over to her she-shed, wondering if she should get on the computer tonight. She always had something to do, that was for certain, but her mind took her in a different direction tonight. “Do you want to tour my she-shed, Hot Shot?”

“Do I ever,” Finn said, grinning as wide as the sky.

She laughed and said, “Really? Why?”

“It’s like…where the magic happens,” he said. “Your very own space, where you create whole worlds, with magnificent horses and the boys and girls who love them.”

“Magnificent horses?” Edith giggled through the words.

“Yes,” Finn said, holding his head high. “Magnificent horses.”

Edith loved walking with him, talking with him, laughing with him. “Let me show you where the magic happens then.” She led him across the lawn to her she-shed, which didn’t even have a proper sidewalk leading up to it.

She paused just outside the door and thought about what he’d see inside her shed. “Okay, this is my personal space.”

“I know.” Finn didn’t look at her, but he leaned closer to the window in the door.

“It might be messy. Writing is a process.”

He looked at her then, and Edith had no idea what he saw. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to laugh at you or judge you.”

Butterfly wings fluttered in her pulse. “Okay.” She took in a slow breath as she reached to open the door. She stepped inside first, the familiar and soothing scent of citrus greeting her like an old friend.

The room opened up before her, and Finn said, “Sweetheart, you’re blocking the door.”

She stepped to the left where the large, plush couch sat. Her favorite fuzzy blanket had been folded and laid over the armrest closest to the small table where she had a lamp.

A window let in light there, and Edith admired her brightly flowered rug before she took in the posters of her book covers, the table which held her scented candles, incense, and her air diffuser—the source of the orange hanging in the air.

“It smells great in here,” he said as he moved further inside.

Edith tucked her hands in her pockets as he took a few steps to her desk. Her laptop sat there, as did several piles of papers and books, and the end of it covered a mini-fridge, which she kept stocked with her favorite soda pop and ice cream.

She had a short, two-drawer filing cabinet next to the mini-fridge, but it too had been piled with things. Journals, a sweatshirt, another candle, pens, note cards, and her travel keyboard.

And an empty bowl of ice cream. The desk also held various bags of candy in various degrees of fullness, two water bottles that were probably empty or close to it, and a dirty nacho plate from last night’s snack. Edith tucked her hair behind her ear and watched as Finn turned away from her desk.

“This is so perfectly you, Edith.”

“Yeah?” she asked. “Why?”

“The desk.” He glanced at her. “It has your personality. So put together. Every piece you need, right where you need it. But it’s used. It’s got charm.” He smiled. “I love your posters. Are these all your books?”

Edith took in the three posters she had on the walls. “Just the ones from a library event I did in New Orleans,” she said. “They had these big posters blown up for the signing, and I got to keep them afterward.”

“How many books have you written?”

“Six,” she said. “I’m working on my seventh right now.”

“Amazing,” he said. “And look at this couch. The pillows.” He grinned at her and indicated the couch again. “Can I sit?”

“Go right ahead.”

He sighed mightily as he did, and Edith couldn’t help grinning at him. “Do you take naps here? Sit and read?”

“Both,” she said. “Sometimes I write by hand in a journal. Sometimes I watch videos on my phone about horses. It’s just a nice place to relax.”