I ignore his comment and probing stare, pretending as though the lake has my full attention. The view is gorgeous. Lake Galen sprawls before us, and gentle waves rock the floating dock our group has gathered on. A hawk dives to pluck a fish from the water. On the opposite tree-lined shore, a group of deer weavesthrough the forest. An oddly familiar barn owl perches on a branch above the herd and lets out the occasional hoot.
Could that be Ophelia’s owl friend?
Out on the water, I spy a pontoon boat slowly cruising, the setting sun reflecting off the frothing wake it leaves as it passes. At the growing rumble of an engine, I assume another boat is approaching. But then there’s the crunch of gravel, and once again, I’m flinging my attention back toward the house.
“I thought Zara was working late,” Moira says, the comment directed at Anthony as she references his mate.
“She is. Paperwork,” Ame answers from where she sits in Jack’s lap.
Zara is my sister’s boss at the town’s veterinarian practice.
“I tried to seduce her away from work,” Anthony adds. “But apparently, my skills are fading. I blame small-town living.”
“Who else is invited?” Niko asks the question everyone is wondering.
Everyone but me.
She came.
“I’ll go check!” I launch out of my chair and jog away from the group before anyone can offer to accompany me.
When I reach the driveway, I discover Ophelia climbing out of a truck that looks like it’s older than she is. The paint job is chipped and rusted, the body of the vehicle is boxy, and the bumper was clearly replaced at some point yet still has a handful of dents. But when she slams the door closed, I watch her turn and pat the hood, as if the vehicle were a loyal hound. Ophelia seems almost proud of the old truck.
While I turn the idea over in my mind, I study the woman in front of me and remind myself that the firebird has made no mention of her time before the sorcerer. As if she wants to forget more than just her time in captivity.
And I wonder what it must be like to start life over from scratch. To have everything you own given to you.
How that might make you want to earn something on your own.
I’d lay money down that Ophelia bought the truck soon after getting her first few paychecks from Clean Haven. Which makes it hers more than anything the town or Georgiana has given her.
“You made it!” I call out when I get closer.
Ophelia jumps, as if spooked, and I feel an immediate wash of guilt. Especially when she turns to face me and her cheeks are flushed red and there are flashes of orange in her aura.
“I did. I’m here.” Her voice is tight, and so is the grip she has on her bag.
I want to focus on how I can avoid upsetting her, but I’m having trouble forcing my brain to think past the simple way she looks.
Ophelia has on a sundress. A deep red color with little white flowers. The material hugs her chest and gently flares at her waist, giving only a hint at the curve of her hips. Her hair is down. A golden screen falling over her shoulders that she pushes back to reveal two slim straps holding her outfit up.
Gods, this firebird will incinerate me.
“Hello,” I croak.
Ophelia tilts her head, and her lips purse. “Are you okay? You sound sick.”
“Good. I’m good.” I clear my throat and tuck my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “We’re all down at the dock.”
She nods and steps to my side. We walk quietly together toward the group. As we approach, they aren’t even trying to pretend like they aren’t watching us.
“Will they mind that I’m here?” Ophelia whispers the question to me.
“No. Not at all. We like when new people show up. Gives us someone new to interrogate.” I try for the suave, teasing tone that my twin is so good at.
Ophelia stops abruptly, her knuckles white on the straps of her bag. “I-I don’t want to talk about me.” She takes a step backward. “I should?—”
“Wait. I’m sorry. That was a joke. A bad one.” I hold out my hands, palms up in supplication. “I’m bad at jokes. Anthony is the funny, charming one. I’m the awkward one.”
