Page 36 of Perfectly Petite Shorts (Perfect Pixie)

Hands fisted, my nails dug deep groves into my more fragile, humanoid skin. “That’s bullshit.”

Hamish shrugged. “I will not argue the point.”

“Well, I sure as shit will.” Rounding the front desk, I stomped toward Hamish. It was beyond foolish, but when my ire was well and truly lit, common sense flew out the proverbial window. “You have no idea what my situation is. You’re basing assumptions on previous interactions.”

“They are accurate interactions.”

“I don’t care!”

Hamish cocked his head. “So, are you telling me you do have the financial means to compensate my time?”

Heat filled my cheeks. “It depends on what you mean by financial .”

Hamish showed a hint of surprise. “I believe the word defines itself.”

“Maybe, but there are a lot of different types of compensation. Not all of them revolve around money.”

Hamish’s lips quirked into a smirk. “And you believe you might have a form of compensation that might appeal to me?”

My flushed cheeks deepened in color, their shade far darker than my light pink hair. “I… That depends.”

“Pray tell, on what?”

Ooh, now he was just making fun of me. “I don’t know.

” I gritted my teeth. “Why don’t you give me some options, and we’ll see if we can come to some type of agreement.

” I thrust my chin out, refusing to be intimidated by this fairy.

Sure, I was an absolute idiot and didn’t feel an ounce of the self- confidence I exuded.

This is for Jamila . I repeated her name, praying that if I said it enough, I’d somehow be able to channel her sass.

This time, Hamish’s perusal of my body was anything but clinical. I didn’t think I imagined the heat filling the dark depths of his eyes. But just as quickly as it came, that heat was extinguished.

Turning his head, Hamish asked, “How old are you, dryad?”

“I have a name, and I don’t know why my age is important.”

“Names are inconsequential.”

Rage, red hot and painful flushed my skin. “Names are important. Jamila gave me mine, and I won’t have you disrespect her.” My body shook with anger. Slender limbs sprouted from my fingertips, cherry blossoms blooming along their tips and filling the stale air with their scent.

Hamish inhaled and his eyelids slipped closed. “Jamila? You aren’t a born dryad. You were created.”

“Jamila’s love and magic gave me life.”

“Witch?” Hamish asked.

I nodded as my anger diminished. Spent cherry blossoms fell to the ground as my limbs receded.

“She is. Was,” I corrected. Memories of Jamila sitting under my canopy, her head tilted to the sky as she inhaled the scent of my blossoms filled my mind.

Those memories were an aged jumble. I could see the young child Jamila had been the first time she’d sat at my roots along with the last image—Jamila’s wrinkled and weathered face as she’d lain beneath my canopy breathing her last. Jamila had made certain I’d lived far longer than a cherry tree should and her dying breath had twisted my very makeup.

No longer simply a tree, but a dryad. I now had a humanoid form along with my cherry tree one.

Hamish nodded as if he understood. “Your tree form is older, but your humanoid, dryad form is much younger. How long has it been?”

“Since I lost Jamila?” Hamish nodded and I answered, “Too long. Not long enough.” I did not believe there would ever be enough passage of time for her memory to fade or my desire to have her near pass.

Quiet descended until finally Hamish said, “I meant no disrespect to your creator.”

I huffed, only slightly mollified. “She was everything to me.”

“Of that, I have little doubt. Still, the fact remains that you have no…conventional means of compensating me for my time.”

I cringed, knowing he was right. Remembering that brief flare of heated attraction Hamish had allowed to slip, I reluctantly offered what I had.

Myself. “I…I realize you can probably find a lot of others who would like to…to…” I waved a hand in the general direction of Hamish’s groin.

“I can do that. If you’d accept that as payment. ”

Hamish’s expression blanked and his sparkling eyes dulled. “You believe I would be so crass as to accept sexual favors?”

I swallowed hard. I was on some very shaky ground here.

“I don’t really know you well enough to say.

I’m just… It’s all I have, and I’m desperate.

” I cringed at the last. It was probably stupid to lay all my cards on the table like that.

Hamish McIntyre didn’t exactly strike me as having a ton of empathy.

Proving my point, Hamish scoffed. “You believe that will be enough to sway me?”

I was crestfallen. This had been a foolish endeavor from the very beginning. All I’d done was manage to embarrass myself. “Probably not.”

“There is no probably . There is only not . While you are certainly attractive enough, as you so accurately pointed out earlier, I have no need to stoop so low to satisfy my sexual urges.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I struggled to come up with anything that might sway his opinion.

I needed his help. There was no way I could keep Jamila’s land safe if I couldn’t get a fairy lawyer to take my case.

There were other lawyers, but Hamish was the best and that’s what I needed. I couldn’t settle for anything less.

Teeth gritted so hard my jaw hurt, I simply couldn’t think of anything that might sway the fairy before me. Tongue-tied I stood there, arms hanging by my side. The silence stretched on, and I was certain when I looked up, Hamish would be gone. He wasn’t.

“Against my better judgment, I am curious what situation would be so dire that you would offer your own body as payment.” Hamish’s tone wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t harsh either.

“Jamila.”

Hamish’s head cocked to the side while his eyes narrowed. “It was my understanding the witch was deceased.”

“She is.” All these years later, it still hurt to admit that. “It’s her land. Her homestead.”

“What about it?”

Was I wrong, or was there the barest spark of interest in Hamish’s voice? “Jamila’s descendants sold the land to a developer. They…they’re going to bulldoze the entire area and build apartments.” Fear, anger, and anxiety warred for pride of place in the emotional turmoil spinning through my head.

Hamish leaned back into his heels, arms crossed again, and any previous interest long gone. “Then it is a done deal. If they inherited the land and decided to sell it, there is nothing you can do.”

I shook my head, unwilling to accept that. “There’s a loophole. ”

This time, I didn’t have to question whether Hamish was interested or not. “Do tell.”

And so, I did.

H amish

This dryad was fascinating. No, that wasn’t the correct term.

He was distracting. My eyebrow twitched as I listened with half an ear.

It was horribly unprofessional of me. Worse, it was un-fairy like.

Despite that irritation, I couldn’t stop staring.

Todrik was… unusual . Perhaps the accurate statement would be that his effect on me was unusual.

As a fairy, I’d grown up surrounded by beauty.

We were flooded by rich colors, tones, textures, scents…

Everything in Fairy was beautiful. That didn’t mean it wasn’t deadly as well, but beauty can be found nearly anywhere, even in the most vicious plant or creature.

Todrik wasn’t special in that regard. Light pink hair—darker at the scalp and lightening as it lengthened, was harmoniously mixed with a sprinkling of white.

His skin was pale with a light peach blush.

Nose delicate and lips plush, Todrik’s features were harmoniously balanced, adding to his symmetrical appeal.

The crest of his head rose no higher than my chest, and I had to look down to meet his pale green eyes.

Those eyes were curtained by thick, light pink lashes.

His eyebrows were a slightly darker shade.

I suspected, at first glance, many humans saw Todrik and imagined him little more than a child.

They could not be more wrong and, possibly, more right.

Dryads were a tricky species when it came to age.

Those who were born as a dryad were easier to age.

However, like many dryads, Todrik hadn’t been born into his current sentience.

Love and magic had taken his original form and transformed him into so much more.

Such transformations typically required witch magic, but not always.

Stories abounded where a human was able to transform a beloved tree into a dryad.

I was uncertain if I believed such fanciful tales.

If true, I imagine the human involved was a bit more than human.

Or perhaps the tree contained more magic than the average woody plant.

The point was, magic was needed to transform a tree into a sentient, humanoid form.

Dryads, by definition, kept their original tree forms as well.

Many spent the majority of their lives in this form while others interacted with other species in their humanoid shell.

Todrik’s earlier lack of control revealed the type of tree he was. Cherry.

The scent of cherry blossoms was still strong. It was my favorite scent. Did Todrik know that? Doubtful, as I was unaware that any beyond myself knew this fact. Was that why I found him so appealing? Was that why I couldn’t seem to get my mind to focus?

I leaned infinitesimally closer, subtly inhaling.

Even without the blooming blossoms, Todrik smelled divine.

A sudden, unnerving desire to keep Todrik slammed into me.

Centuries of training allowed me to keep my shock physically contained.

The way Todrik continued babbling, I had no doubt he’d missed my mental meltdown.