“You only say that because I’m a Green Witch,” Clover retorts, tilting her chin in the air.
Rowyn barks out a laugh. “Don’t even start.”
Before Clover can snark back at our friend, the door pushes open and Gale comes lumbering in, peeking over Rowyn’s shoulder as she tries to swat him away like she did Clover.
As late afternoon fades into evening, I begin to relax and enjoy my company. Rowyn’s dishes are set to simmer or bake, so we make our way outside to Gale’s back porch.
It is a beautiful set up with a large, iron patio table under a wooden awning. He has a small, quaint garden and a pond with three swans gliding along the surface. One is larger than the rest and has the same soft, golden glow as Clover’s deer familiar, Astra.
The atmosphere made it easy to get comfortable and sucked in, but I should’ve known better.
And sooner.
Like the moment Rowyn asked me to grab the other pitcher of her strawberry and orange punch. It’s an innocent enough request from anyone—other than her. Rowyn enjoys hosting, and takes the role very seriously.
I let my guard down for a second, and now I’m frozen in place as the kitchen door opens.
His spicy, woodsy scent hits me first as the door swings shut, closing us off to the rest of the world. I curse myself for being so naïve. Rowyn mentioned that her grandfather has become close with the Vexley twins, and she’s clued him into the doppelgänger situation we’re dealing with.
This was the last thing I expected today. I can’t figure out if it’s a gift, or a hex.
Placing the pitcher down, I turn around and take a second to appreciate his handsomeness.
Before I can say anything, he teases, “Thanks for the invitation.”
Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms and gear up for his playful banter. “You can thank the Connors for that.”
With a cautious step forward, he slips his hands in his jacket pockets. “Too bad. I had a few ideas about how I could show you my appreciation.”
“I’m not sure any of those ideas would be appropriate for your boss.”
With a low, dark chuckle, he says, “They definitely wouldn’t be.”
“Well, hex—too bad for that mind of yours.”
“Indeed,” he agrees with faux disappointment. “Maybe Gale is willing to share his birthday wish, and I could still get lucky.”
A startled laugh breaks out of me.
Taking another step to me, he closes most of the distance between us, but not enough to touch. My breathing picks up and his eyes rove down my neck, landing on my lightly heaving chest. Trying to feign nonchalance is pointless. Even if he couldn’t read my emotions, my body language is enough to realize the effect he has on me.
Against my better judgement, I hope he’ll close the distance—press his body against mine, touch my cheek, my lips,something. Then he reaches behind me and grabs the pitcher.
“Rowyn asked me to get this.”
Of course she did.
He smirks over his shoulder before turning the corner down the hallway. Unlike him, I need a minute to gather myself before rejoining the group, because tonight just got a hell of a lot longer.
I’m still catching my breath when Rowyn, Esme, and Gale bound into the room, all cheery laughs and warm smiles.
Rowyn pushes my patience when she sees me standing on the other side of the small kitchen, and asks with a smirk, “What are you doing in here? We’re about to serve dinner.”
Choosing to let it go, I roll my eyes and grab one of the small platters off the counter. “Looks like you didn’t need my help with the pitcher after all.”
Before I can leave the room, she hands me another ceramic dish and says with so much innocence, I almost believe her, “Oops—didn’t mean to send you both in here.”
Esme lets out a loud, amused cackle, not able to hide her entertainment at my expense. Gale’s soft chuckle is the biggest betrayal, even if I don’t know the man well.
