Page 11 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)

Faisel was counting heads.

Boniface peevishly asked, “We didn’t leave him aboard the barge, did we?”

And then Inti dropped out of the big oak beside the driveway, a child slung over his shoulder. A child with a gray squirrel’s tail.

“ This would be the real reason Inti’s here,” said Boniface. “He’s the only one who can keep up with the rascal.”

Inti turned so that the captured boy could offer his hands to Joe. His greeting was in Japanese. Joe knew enough from the occasional childhood visit to his grandparents in Kyoto to answer in kind.

The boy had freckles everywhere, but instead of the soft reddish gold that dusted Kip’s skin, he was sprinkled in gray. Joe found the variation charming. Large gray eyes held a very familiar promise of mischief. Pure squirrel.

Boniface eased to Joe’s side. “You’re bilingual?”

“Not really.” He nodded toward his mother. “Mom is, though.”

“That’ll help. The children of Stately House are all polyglots, including young Jarrah here. Don’t let him gull you into thinking he doesn’t know English.” And to the boy, “Greet Mr. Reaverson properly.”

The boy immediately demanded, “Why’m I special?”

Was this a trick question? Joe looked to the others for help.

“You like me best. He does, doesn’t he, Kyrie?” Jarrah insisted.

“Oh. Maybe …?” Joe shrugged in embarrassment. “I get along really well with squirrels.”

Jarrah reached for him, fingers wriggling insistently.

It reminded Joe of when Biddie was smaller.

She’d always wanted to be as close as possible to the people she loved.

When Joe reached back, Inti offloaded the youngster, and skinny arms locked around Joe’s neck.

There was some snuffling and nuzzling, then a childish chirr. Without further ado, Jarrah went limp.

Inti eased closer and spoke in a playful sing-song. “Hugging, snugging, snared.” And in a slightly different tone, “You put him to sleep.”

“Thank heaven for small mercies. He’s overtired and jetlagged,” said Boniface.

“And homesick,” added Kyrie.

Boniface’s gaze sharpened. “And Joe Reaverson feels like home?”

“Yes.” Kyrie checked, “Is he too heavy? I could take him.”

“It’s fine.” Joe quietly admitted, “I don’t think he’d let me go.”

“Cute, but problematic.” Boniface frowned. “What do you think, Kyrie? How long will he sleep?”

“Three days. Maybe four.”

Ash turned their way. “Tuck him in with Kip. The little guy will be surrounded by your scent, and he’ll have a kinsman near.”

“My bondmate is a Woodacre. May I bring Jarrah to my room? Would that be okay?”

After further explanations, reassurances, and a quick conference with Joe’s folks, Ash led most of the crossers off toward the cottage that had been reserved for their use. But Boniface and Kyrie followed Joe and his small passenger into the house.

Boniface was given Tami’s old room. A couple of the wolves helped carry up all of the man’s luggage. He hadn’t packed light.

Dad said, “Sorry to split you up.”

“You’re doing me a favor,” assured Boniface. “Unlike most of that lot, I need to sleep at night. Nonny and Reinier will have no trouble managing things. They’re all good boys.”

Joe stood by, stroking Jarrah’s hair. The crosser wasn’t too heavy at all. Hardly bigger than Bush or Push or Lush. He thought to ask, “How old is he?”

At his side, Kyrie quietly answered, “Almost ten. And clingy.”

“My bondmate is a cuddler, too.”

Kyrie pointed. “I can tell where the door is, but I cannot see it. Is that your room?”

“Yes.”

“Your bondmate has gone deep?”

“Yes.”

“Harrison-sensei talks about Kip sometimes. In those stories, he sounds fun.”

“He’s really good at making friends.”

“Your way is nice, too.” Kyrie made a handsign for secrecy. “Tuck in Jarrah. I will distract anyone from noticing where you have gone.”

Joe doubted that was necessary. It’s not like Dad would have forgotten where Joe’s bedroom was.

Unless … actually, he was pretty sure Kip could have pulled that off.

Maybe the only reason going into his own room still felt ordinary was because Kip had tuned the wards that way.

He eased into his room slowly, worried that something would prevent Jarrah from getting through, but it was fine.

Gently disentangling himself, Joe lowered the boy into his own place.

The kid stirred enough to turn onto his side and nuzzle Joe’s pillow.

Joe pulled blankets and quilt up over the boy’s shoulder, then eased Kip’s tail around so Jarrah was truly in the heart of Kip’s nest. His bondmate didn’t stir.

Nor were there any of the early signs that meant he was beginning to wake.

But Jarrah squirmed closer to Kip, fingers catching his T-shirt.

They were both mismatched and a good match. And Joe wondered if this counted as the kind of prank that squirrels played when courting.