Page 20 of Soul to Possess (The Artmaker Trilogy #1)

“That’s a beautiful way of putting it,” he said. “You notice the little things. That’s a rare quality, Bluebell.”

I looked down, unsure what to do with the sudden warmth in his voice. He didn’t let the silence linger.

“So tell me,” he asked, tone quieter now, almost thoughtful. “Why’d you get on that bus?”

I glanced up, startled.

“You don’t seem like the type to just… run off to some frozen corner of nowhere,” he added.

“I didn’t run,” I said too quickly. “I had a plan.”

He arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. My fingers tightened around the edge of my sleeve. “I thought I did,” I admitted. “But it’s hard to keep track of the map when someone else grabs the wheel.”

Atticus didn’t smile this time. But he did look like he knew exactly what that felt like.

I wondered what parts of his life had gone so wrong that he ended up out here alone in the middle of nowhere.

And felt a pang of sympathy for the man I didn’t know.

I leaned back into the couch, trying to put some space between us—not just physically, but mentally too.

This man had a way of pulling thoughts out of me I didn’t want to examine.

“I’ve always found nature kind of… grounding,” I said. “Especially the strange parts. The quietness of snow. Spring blossoms after a brutal winter. It makes you feel like something’s always coming next.”

Atticus nodded, eyes on me but far away too, like he was painting something in his mind.

“Mother Nature makes her own kind of art. Autumn’s the masterpiece, I think.

When everything starts dying, but it still manages to be beautiful.

” There was a strange kind of calm in the way he said that. Then, with no warning, he pivoted.

“So… what would Marvin expect from a wife besides cooking?” His voice dropped an octave—curious, but unmistakably suggestive.

There it was again. That subtle shift. The way he seemed to always steer the conversation toward the edge of something darker.

Something I wasn’t sure I wanted to admit I noticed. Or liked. Enough!

I cleared my throat. “I’m guessing a lot. The ranch isn’t small—there’s cleaning, laundry, work to be done. All kinds of things.”

He hummed. “Mm. And in the bedroom?”

I felt it then. That heavy pull in the air. Heat gathered low in my body like it had a mind of its own.

“Bedroom expectations, too,” he added, watching me too closely.

“I… yeah. Probably.”

His eyes gleamed, and something in his expression sharpened. “What do you think a man like Marvin expects in bed?”

My breath caught. A part of me wanted to laugh it off. Another part—the reckless, burning one—wanted to answer him. Stop. Don’t go there. He’s baiting you. Testing your reactions. Just like he has been since the moment you got off that bus.

“I wouldn’t know,” I said, forcing my tone to stay even. “We never talked about sex.”

That seemed to catch him off guard. His eyebrow quirked up, and he looked almost like he didn’t believe me.

“You didn’t?”

I shook my head. “No. We talked about books. Our ideas for the future. Boring things, I guess.”

A smile curled slowly across his lips. “Sounds dreamy.”

“It was supposed to be,” I said quietly, my voice tighter than I meant it to be. “Guess reality had other plans.”

His head tilted, mouth twitching. “So now you’re here instead. A pretty little lamb delivered straight to the wolf’s den.”

I rolled my eyes. “You and the wolf thing again.”

He leaned forward slightly. “What, you don’t like the imagery? Huffs. Puffs. Blows the whole thing down.”

“Please,” I scoffed. “I’m more poisoned apple than helpless lamb.”

His grin turned devilish. “Then I guess I’ll have to be the poor cursed prince. Kiss the apple. Break the spell.”

Don’t think about his mouth. Don’t— I glanced away before he could read my face. The way he looked at me when he said things like that… it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t safe.

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, “true love’s kiss only works if you believe in love. Plus the poisoned apple puts you to sleep before you get a kiss.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just smiled again—quiet, knowing. And I didn’t like how unsure that silence made me feel. Or how uneasy his questioning made me.

I shook my head. “I’m no one’s true love.”

That should’ve shut the moment down, but it didn’t.

Instead, his smile softened into something unreadable. “Why are you so hard on yourself?”

“I’m not.” I kept my tone flat, even. “I’m just being honest. Marvin... he wanted me. That’s more than most can say. With him, I’d finally belong to someone.”

Atticus didn’t look away. If anything, he leaned in closer. The air thickened between us.

“Does belonging matter to you, little girl?” His voice was a gravel rasp—low, intimate, a blade pressing just shy of skin.

I hesitated. Then nodded. “Yes.”

That single word felt too vulnerable.

He seemed to consider it, eyes flicking over me like he was committing something to memory. Then, just as suddenly as he’d leaned in, he pulled back.

“Well,” he said, straightening to stand. “I’m hitting the shower, then calling it a night. You’re welcome to hang around out here if you want.”

The switch in topic landed like a slap. Cold. Abrupt. Jarring.

“Oh.” I blinked, trying to catch up. “Okay.”

He gave a thumbs-up like we hadn’t just cracked something raw open. “Dinner was solid. Thanks for that. I’ll cook breakfast tomorrow—hope you’re hungry.”

I gave a quiet laugh. “I think I will be.”

His back was already half-turned when he said it. “’Night, little girl.”

And then he was gone, disappearing down the hall, leaving only the soft click of the bedroom door. I sat there, pulse pounding in my ears. Skin hot. Breath shallow. Whatever this was between us—it was dangerous. Wrong. But the big bad wolf wasn’t chasing me. I was walking straight into his woods.