“That’s not happening,” I murmur back.
“Sure it isn’t.”
“I’mmarried.”
She leans back and studies me, her expression suddenly serious. “I’m not going to tell you what to do. But I’m not looking at a married woman, Autumn. I’m looking at a woman who has only just discovered what freedom is. Don’t let Warrick take that away from you when he isn’t even here.”
I close the door behind her, her words clattering around in my head. The sides of my face ache from laughing. The house is a mess. Warrick would have a heart attack if he saw it.
Rafe stands in the middle of the chaos, looking every bit like the cat who got the cream. A shaft of light from the wall sconce passes over his face, highlighting the dark stripes in his flame-coloured hair. Those two tufts stick up from the sides of his head – I remember thinking they looked ridiculous, like his giant wing-nut Siamese cat ears, but now I think they’re ridiculous and kind of hot…
My body tugs towards him, the buzz and hum of bees squirming deep in my belly. A lone bee dances around my head. She should be asleep in her hive right now, but she dances in lazy circles, pointing me towards Rafe, as if saying, “go on, you know you want to.”
Idowant to.
That’s a problem.
My fingers clamp tight around the door handle.
Rafe tilts his head, studying me. His tail swishes behind him.
“Do you need to study more?” he asks, his voice softening. “I have a brilliant idea for a skit where you have to serve a vampire.”
“Blood meads are stored at the appropriate temperature in the fridge out back,” I answer automatically. “I…um…”
I’m alone. With Rafe. In my cottage.
And Warrick ismissing.
“Autumn?” He strides towards me, but stops in the doorway of the sitting room, leaving only the hallway rug and a pile of muddygaloshes between us. His eyes have blown out, the blue ocean swallowed by enticing darkness. “You’re gripping that doorhandle awfully hard.”
“I’m testing it for strength. One should do that from time to time. I wouldn’t want it to stop, er, handling things.”
He steps closer. “We wouldn’t want that. Autumn?—”
Kiss me.
“I’m so tired,” I blurt out.
Rafe blinks. When his eyes open again, the centres have shrunk back, so they’re a deep ocean again. He reaches for Warrick’s coat. “I guess I’ll be going back to the shop, then.”
“Do you…do you want to stay?”
Did I just say that? Why did I just say that?
The bee crawls along my earlobe. Outside the window, I see a few tiny shapes of more bees circling the compost pile.
He blinks again. “Are you sure?”
No. No no no no. That’s such a bad idea.
“I don’t like thinking of you all alone in the shop,” I say. “I worry about you. I don’t want whoever killed Widow Hardcastle to come back and find you.”
“I worry aboutyou,” he whispers, his eyes darkening again. “All alone here, with a witch-killer on the loose. Iwantto stay, but you have to want it, too.”
“You have to be in your cat form,” I say quickly. “I don’t want you to think this is?—”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of your generosity.”
