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“Oh.” Aster’s brows had lifted as he slid into the seat opposite her. “I’m sorry, I thought it was obvious that I’ll go anywhere you ask me to.” He checked his watch. “And since they’re expecting you soon, it’s a good thing I’m usually dressed to impress.”

She’d rolled her eyes, but it was true. He had been lounging in perfectly tailored trousers and a button-up: the Aster Bishop uniform, as it were. He seemed simply to exist in a state prepared to entertain or be entertained.

He’d reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen the she-demon anyway. I’ve been itching to insult someone.”

“I don’t understand you two.” Molly had swatted his hands playfully.

That Aster had accepted her invitation without pause for consideration shouldn’t have surprised Molly as much as it had. She’d seen him be perfectly civil, even friendly, with Roy and Alannah a number of times now. But there was still something uncanny about witnessing these two worlds peacefully cohabitating.

“Brunch is almost ready,” Alannah said, snapping Molly out of her reverie. She grabbed Molly’s hand and tugged her forward, beginning their ascent to the rooftop patio. “Roy’s getting everything together in the kitchen, and when we’re all settled, we have lots of best friending to do. So no derailing us this time, Bishop.”

“I’ve never derailed anyone a day in my life.”

Molly had to give him credit; Aster did mock aghast quite well.

Alannah snorted. “Last time we brunched, he and Roy spent forty-five excruciating minutes debating the merits of drums versus flats.”

Molly blinked. “I thought Roy didn’t like chicken wings.”

“Apparently neither does Bishop. And yet, we endured it for forty-five minutes.”

“I’m perfectly happy to be on babysitting duty if my conversational skills aren’t appreciated,” Bishop said as Molly settled herself into a cushy, bowl-shaped chair beside the outdoor heater. The temperature hovered just this side of cold, closer to crisp. Easily tolerable for the sake of a beautiful patio brunch with her dearest friends.

“Jessa and Thomas are with their grandparents for the day,” Alannah said.

“Oh.” Aster looked crestfallen. “In that case, it’ll be a debate about the ideal mattress firmness, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t get Roy started. His late twenties are destroying his lower back.”

When Alannah disappeared downstairs to help Roy ferry their food and drinks, Aster approached Molly and slid into the chair with her. “Make room,” he insisted.

The sudden contact with his person sent a flutter through Molly’s stomach.

She struggled to shimmy to one side. Undeterred, Aster looped an arm around her middle and wedged himself beside and then beneath her. He pulled her legs to rest sideways across his lap. Briefly, Molly found herself grateful she’d decided on jeans and not a dress for this outing. She didn’t trust Aster’s meandering hands.

“There are other seats available, you know.”

“I prefer this one,” he said, one hand on her knee, the other still wrapped around her waist.

“I suppose I’ll let you have it then.” She barely feigned moving before the arm around her waist tightened. He leaned into her neck, breath sending more shivers down her spine. Damn him.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured. “There’s plenty of room.” For a passing moment she felt his lips press against her neck.

“Oh,” came Roy’s voice. Molly looked up to where he’d appeared with a mouthwatering tray of pastries. Alannah followed closely behind with massive bowl of colorful fruit. “We’re back at this, then?” Roy asked.

Molly looked from Roy, who seemed sadly resigned, to Aster, who seemed supremely smug. She hopped out of the chair before Aster could stop her.

“No, we’re not. That was just . . .” A blush crept up her neck as she failed to explain away the position she’d been caught in.

Molly sank onto the sofa opposite Aster and steadfastly ignored the embarrassment surging beneath her skin.

“You two certainly seem more in sync,” Roy said. He looked both reluctantly pleased and like a parent scolding teenagers caught behaving badly. Alannah slid onto the sofa beside Molly, grinning.

“We’re figuring it out,” Molly admitted, gaze shifting to Aster. Her words earned her one of his wide smiles. The kind with no hard edges. Every last trace of sneer, smirk, or snarl reduced to rubble by order of a dimple and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes.

It only lasted a moment, just long enough for Aster’s phone to chime. One glance at the screen sent his expression shuttering. He studied it, frowned, and bounced his leg, gaze unfocused. After several tense seconds he cleared his throat. “I need to respond to this. Excuse me.”

He was gone before anyone could ask, much to Molly’s bafflement.