Page 3

“Wonderful, Wren. You’re officially losing your mind.”

I push away from the wall and look around.

Well.

This is interesting.

The passage opens into a secluded courtyard behind the chapel. Ivy climbs the weathered brick walls, and tangled vines spill over crumbling stone planters. A fountain sits dry and forgotten beneath an ancient magnolia tree.

And in the center of it all stands a statue.

A very large statue.

Of a very large man.

“Oh, hello.”

I take a few steps closer.

He’s carved from polished black obsidian, the dark stone streaked with veins of deep magenta and crimson. Even beneath the gray storm clouds, the surface gleams as though someone has just polished him.

His shoulders are enormous.

His chest is broad, his stomach sculpted into an outrageous collection of muscles, and his powerful thighs look capable of crushing watermelons.

Or my dignity.

Possibly both.

I tip my head back.

And back.

“Good Lord, you’re a big boy.”

He must stand nearly eight feet tall atop his pedestal.

His face is rugged rather than pretty, with a strong jaw, a straight nose, and a stern expression that suggests he has never laughed at a joke in his entire existence.

Which is unfortunate.

Because I have several.

My gaze drifts lower.

“Oh.”

He’s naked.

Well, mostly.

A narrow fold of carved fabric drapes strategically across his hips, concealing the one part of his anatomy that would probably require its own museum exhibit.

I lean sideways.

The drape conceals everything.

“Of course it does.”