Hello everyone! Ari of Ari McKay here once again! This time I’m bringing you an exclusive excerpt of our new released, Forged in Fire, book 2 of the Asheville Arcana series from Dreamspinner Press! Enjoy!!!Arden started to reply but then stopped as an unfamiliar pickup truck stopped at the curb. The driver got out and came around the front of the truck, and to Whimsy’s surprise, it was Harlan. Rather than his park ranger uniform, Harlan was dressed in well-worn jeans that clung to his hips and a blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his tanned forearms. He started up the walk, smiling somewhat shyly as he saw Whimsy. “Hey. I brought you something. Kind of a thank-you in advance, if that’s okay.”

Arden snorted and spoke in a low voice for Whimsy’s ears alone. “No, he’s not interested at all.”

“Gratitude isn’t interest,” Whimsy whispered back, but he couldn’t help admiring the way Harlan’s jeans emphasized his long legs. He got up and moved to stand on the top step so he wouldn’t be at such a height disadvantage. At five foot eight, he was a little taller than Arden, but he was still considerably shorter than Harlan. “You didn’t have to bring me anything,” he said at his normal volume. “I haven’t helped you yet.”

Harlan stopped, his gaze traveling down the length of Whimsy’s legs, bared by the shorts he was wearing due to the heat of the day. Then Harlan blushed, though it was hard to tell if it was due to Whimsy’s legs or something else. “Well, I know you’re researching, and anyway, I had a big harvest this weekend, so it seemed only polite to share.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Whimsy said, moving aside so Harlan could come up on the porch. “We’re having wine, but I’ve got sweet tea.”

“Thank you. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” Harlan nodded a greeting at Arden. “Let me unload this stuff from the truck first, and then I’d be grateful for a glass of tea.”

Harlan returned to his truck, and Arden moved to stand beside Whimsy. “Yeah, gratitude, right,” Arden murmured. “Driving all the way out here from the pack lands just to bring you the fruits of his labor.” Arden paused as Harlan lifted a bushel basket out of his truck and headed back to the porch. The basket was piled high with huge, beautifully red apples. “Literally fruits! Eve, I think Adam is doing the tempting this time, don’t you?”

Whimsy growled and smacked the back of Arden’s head. “Wouldn’t you be grateful if someone offered to end the excruciating pain you’d been experiencing every month for three hundred years? Don’t read more into it than there is,” he said, although he wasn’t sure whether he was warning Arden or himself. Maybe both. The last thing he wanted was for loneliness to drive him into a hopeless attraction to someone who would never return his feelings.

“Ow!” Arden rubbed the back of his head, giving Whimsy a wounded look, but there was a trace of amusement in his big green eyes that spoiled the effect.

Harlan slowed as he approached, glancing between Whimsy and Arden with a puzzled frown. “Did I come at a bad time? I can leave these baskets and go on my way.”

“Arden is being a brat, that’s all,” Whimsy said, turning his attention to the apples. Their skin was deep red and glossy with no trace of bruising that he could see. “Come on up and have a seat. I’ll get you some tea.”

“There are two more baskets, if you want them,” Harlan replied. He placed the apples on the edge of the porch. “One is sweet corn, the other is potatoes. Then there’s a couple pints of blueberries.”

Whimsy snapped his gaze up to Harlan’s face, momentarily shocked into silence. “Are you sure? That’s a lot of produce, and I haven’t even done anything.”

“It’s nothing,” Harlan replied, lowering his gaze. “I always grow more than the pack can use, so I give a lot of it away. I was thinking if you’re interested, you could even come out and see my grapevines. If they’re the right kind for your winemaking, I’d be happy for you take some of them.”

Arden leaned close again. “Still think it’s nothing but gratitude?”

“You must have an amazing green thumb,” Whimsy said as he dealt a swift kick to Arden’s shin. “I’d love to see your grapevines sometime.”

Not to be outdone, Arden poked Whimsy in the ribs—right where he knew Whimsy was most sensitive. “Whimsy is always impressed by long, thick vines,” he replied.

Harlan looked puzzled, as though he wasn’t certain if he was being teased or not. “I’ve had a right long time to get good at growing things,” he said, then headed back to the truck.

As soon as Harlan was out of earshot, Whimsy rounded on Arden, glaring fiercely. “Will you stop?”

Arden donned his innocent expression. “What? I’m just trying to show you he’s attracted to you. Even if neither of you want to admit it.”

Whimsy glanced over at Harlan, his gaze lingering on the flex of Harlan’s muscles as he unloaded the remaining two baskets from his truck. As much as he wanted to think maybe Harlan was interested, Whimsy had too many reservations. If Harlan was thinking romantic thoughts, he wasn’t showing it in ways Whimsy was familiar with. But then again, Harlan was different from the type of men Whimsy usually dated.

“I’m not convinced,” he said at last. “I still think it’s gratitude.”

“Pffft.” Arden made a noise of disgust. “I bet that by Halloween you’ll be screaming his name, and it won’t be in fright!”