Iris
The spell is quickly broken when I realize just how close we are. I nearly fall off my painting stool in my attempt to put some distance between us, sending the entire stool clattering to the floor.
My cheeks flush as I stoop to pick it up, getting even more paint on the sleeve of my cardigan in the process.
Truthfully, the pull to kiss Arthur was too strong just now. Far too strong. So strong, in fact, that I might have kissed him had I not jumped to my feet.
I push the feeling of attraction down, though.
“What do you want?” I blurt out, setting the stool upright and folding my arms across my chest.
Arthur looks at me for a moment, and there’s a hint of amusement in his green eyes. He holds up a familiar coffee mug with a picture of two otters holding hands on
