“Wanna see something even creepier?”
“When you say it like that, it sets alarm bells off in my head.”
“You won’t say no though, will you?”
“I’m far too curious to say no,” I reply with a sigh.
“We don’t even have to move far.” Arlo leans backwards, pointing to the gabled side of the roof. “See that?”
There’s a rectangular window tilted at a forty-five-degree angle. “What is it?” I lean back, unashamedly snuggling into his side.
“A witch’s window. Years ago, people believed witches couldn’t fly through a window if the builder tilted it.” Arlo brushes his lips across my forehead. “However, my mom wasn’t having any of that, so she had this balcony built when they moved in.”
“She willingly invited witches inside?” This doesn’t surprise me at all when it comes to Saffron.
“Yep, and after Dad died, she wanted nothing more than to commune with the dead.”
“That’s kind of sweet.”
“They were high school sweethearts, and they grew up in this town.” The scent of his spice tickles my nose, and I bury my head closer to his chest. “She lost her greatest love.”
“I can’t imagine.” Aside from Eric, whom I loved as only one can love a best friend.
“Can I tell you something?”
A flare of nerves rises in my belly. “Yeah.” Though as I say it, my mouth dries up.
“This isn’t our third date,” he whispers into my hair.
“It’s definitely two and a half.” I bring the wine to my lips. “Because of the wine.”
“It’s spicy though.” He grabs the bottle from my hands, and I listen as he takes a sip.
I inhale him, and between his scent and the spice of the wine, I decide spice is my new favorite everything—bitter with a dash of sweetness. “I love it,” I whisper against his chest.
“Do you? Well, I’ll have to stop by the winery for more.”
I push away, looking at him in horror. “There’s a winery?”
“Oh yes, there’s a winery.” He lifts the bottle and tilts it toward me. “It’s only an hour away.”
I nibble my lip as I snatch the bottle and read the address.
“You want to go, don’t you?” He snatches it back, taking another sip, and I pull away as I watch a drop of red drip down his thick bottom lip and into his beard.
I slowly lean forward to lick the drop from that spot, pulling back just slightly. “Yes,” I whisper over his lips, my entire body lighting up from the inside out.
“Third date.” His eyes drop to my lips, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. We just remain in that spot, in stasis, while a magnetic pull tugs us closer.
Yet we both resist.
“When?” Anticipation thrums through me.
“When you’re ready.” He observes me as I drift back.
He’s right—I keep toeing the line. I’m torn between wanting to get to know him and the plans I made. I nod as I snuggle into his side, and his body relaxes against mine.
“My best friend died last year,” I tell him, not sure where I’m going with this confession, but after last Monday with the girls, that wound has begun to heal. He says nothing, allowing me to direct this moment. “We talked about leaving Georgia for a long time and traveling the coast to find the place that felt like home.It was our goal, and we talked about it so much. Every day, we would add to our plans over dinner.”
