Chosen Fool (Forever Evermore #5)(90)

I stumbled, hitting the side of the tub.

I fell out of the shower and landed on a toilet. I rolled and grunted as I hit the tiled ground. Half soaked and utterly humiliated—my jaw now hurting from jarring it on the ground—I quickly jumped to my feet. Then I smacked my left hand over my eyes. There were two completely nude men staring at me, a golden haired one grabbing a towel on my left from the top of the toilet…and the dark-haired one—Elder Farrar—sporting a scowl.

“I am so sorry, Elder Farrar,” I mumbled quickly. “I—”

“Wait,” he demanded before I could mutter another word, a definite growl in his tone. The sound of the running shower cut off. “Keep your mouth shut and grab the towel for me.”

I started to take my left hand off my eyes and reach toward the toilet where the other man had grabbed a towel. But I paused. Now I understood the humor in Elder Farrar’s comment earlier today. I kept my left hand firmly over my eyes and reached to the right—my right—with my free hand. I fumbled blindly until I felt a soft towel under my palm.

The other man muttered quietly with concern, “Are you all right?”

“I like teeth but not like that.” Brusque words. “And as you can see, I’m fine.”

My cheeks heated as I realized Elder Farrar had been injured intimately by my outburst.

I kept my mouth shut as he had ordered, holding the towel out for him. He yanked it quickly from my hand, just as the other Mage asked slowly, “Did she call you…Elder Farrar?”

“Jesus,” Elder Farrar muttered, and I felt a breeze of Mage magic, spells and time floating around me. He whispered, “Forget.”

The man’s voice was slurred a beat later. “What…what just happened?”

“We were interrupted,” Elder Farrar grumbled. “You should probably go now.”

“All right,” he murmured. Wet footfalls tickled my hearing as he stepped out of the shower. I quickly pressed my back to the wall, my left hand still firmly in place. “Will I see you again?” And damn, the man sounded hopeful. Even a little shy.

A gentle, quiet word. “Possibly.”

The man walked past me and the bathroom door shut behind him, his retreating footsteps soft outside. Elder Farrar grouched, “You can lower your hand, whoever the hell you are.” I lowered it slowly and saw a towel firmly wrapped around his waist. He stepped from the shower, not glowing anymore…except for his eyes. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill your trespassing ass.”

And he was serious.

In a flash, I mumbled, “This morning it was the year twenty-thirty-five, which is normal. But now I’m in nineteen-ninety-three, which is not normal.” I licked my lips quickly. “And you also told me this morning the towel was on my right side, which I didn’t understand then, but now I do.”

His eyes flared even brighter, his head cocking oddly, the way of Mages. I waited in the silence, knowing he wasn’t ‘with’ me right now. He hummed, “You’re not lying.” He blinked a few times, his dark-spelled hair throwing me even more than his marginally younger appearance. His lips pinched as his eyes focused on me, and he waved a damp hand. “Don’t say a f*cking thing unless I ask you a direct question. And even then, make it short and sweet, and keep any unnecessary details to yourself. No one, not even me, needs to know any more than necessary about the future.”

Keeping my lips clamped together, I nodded once, though I really wanted to speak.

I needed this man’s help.

But this man, in this time, didn’t know me. His help was only optional.

He stalked past. I gave him plenty of room as another door shut outside the bathroom, possibly the other man leaving. I quickly bent, picking up my purse from the floor as he left the bathroom. The space opened to a small apartment. He gestured to the couch, in front of which was an ancient—but probably new in this time—television. “Have a seat while I get dressed.”

I nodded as he moved to a room directly to our right, entered, and shut the door behind him. Bending at the waist, I peeked carefully to the room on my left, which was another retro bedroom. A woman’s items littered the floor and bed.

I tiptoed forward into the living room, glancing about my surroundings. I saw a bay window on my right and a tiny kitchen with a small table to my left. The main door to the apartment was directly in front of me. This living space was much more humble than what I would have expected Elder Farrar to live in. Then again, his hair was spelled a different color and he had wiped the memory of his name from his shower partner. He wasn’t living normally during this time, so I needed to be much more careful around him.

I sat silently on the couch, placing my purse on my lap. I was probably lucky he hadn’t killed me immediately. And his reason for living like this was something to ponder—or possibly even ask him—once I was home, in my time.

He didn’t keep me waiting longer than a minute, entering the living room wearing a pair of light-colored jeans and slipping a shirt over his head. His hair was combed but still wet, his feet bare. The Elder rested with his back against the main door, an obvious action to keep me inside, trapping me. He crossed his arms, his golden eyes staring and evaluating me while I sat mute on his couch, doing as he had said.

He rumbled, “You’re either very foolish or very brave, I’ll give you that much.” It wasn’t a question, so my mouth stayed shut. His lips lifted in a small grin. “And you follow directions well.”