Page 8 of His Lucky Charm

“Something like that.” He resumed pacing. “I’ll be back after the festival.”

“After the full moon, you mean,” I said quietly.

His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“You’re leaving for the full moon.” I met his gaze steadily. “Just like you disappeared last month on the night of the full moon. Just like you refuse to touch anything silver. Just like your eyes sometimes flash gold when you’re excited or angry.”

He was very still now, watching me with an intensity that should have been frightening. “You’ve been paying attention.”

“I told you, it’s my job.” I leaned forward. “Rafferty, if there’s something you need to tell me—”

“There’s nothing—” He cut himself off, running both hands through his hair. “It’s not what you think.”

“How do you know what I think?” I challenged.

“Because you’re a rational man, Eliot.” He almost spat the word ‘rational.’ “You don’t believe in things you can’t explain.”

I stood, approaching him carefully like one might a skittish animal. “Try me.”

For a moment, I thought he might actually confide in me. Something vulnerable flashed across his face, something that made my chest ache. Then it was gone, replaced by a carefully constructed smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s just some family business up in the hills. Old tradition.” He shrugged. “Boring stuff.”

I’d spent years studying folklore, myths, and legends. I knew deflection when I heard it. “You’re lying.”

“Eliot—”

“No.” I stepped closer, irritation flaring. “For two weeks, I’ve been honest with you. About my work, my skepticism, what I want from…” I gestured between us. “Whatever this is. I deserve the same courtesy.”

His jaw tightened. “Some things aren’t mine to share.”

“Bullshit.” The word felt foreign on my tongue, but appropriate. “This is about the Guardian legend, isn’t it? Your family’s connection to it.”

A muscle ticked in his cheek. “Let it go, Eliot.”

“I can’t. I’m here to research these legends, remember? That’s literally my job.” I crossed my arms. “Or did you seduce me to distract me from finding something out?”

It was a low blow, and I regretted it instantly when hurt flashed across his face. “Is that what you think? That I’ve been fucking you to keep you from your precious research?”

“No,” I backpedaled. “That’s not—”

“Because if that’s what you think of me, you can go back to your hotel right now.” His voice was deadly quiet. “I don’t need to trick people into my bed, Professor.”

“I know that.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I’m sorry. That was unfair.”

Rafferty turned away, bracing his hands on the kitchen counter, his back a rigid line of tension. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. I watched the rise and fall of his shoulders as he took deep, measured breaths.

Finally, he turned back to me, his expression carefully neutral. “Look, I care about you. More than I expected to. But there are things about me, about my family, that I can’t explain yet.”

“Yet?” I latched onto the word. “So there is something to explain.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Always the academic.”

I closed the distance between us, placing a hand on his chest. Beneath my palm, his heart hammered like a drum. “Whatever it is, Rafferty, it won’t change how I feel about you.”

His laugh was hollow. “You can’t promise that.”

“Try me,” I repeated.