Chapter 5
We end up in my backyard because going any distance from my house when the sun is up is not a risk I’m willing to take.
Maybe if all the inhabitants of Folk Haven were either mythics or humans who knew about mythics.
But this lake attracts tourists, and some unaware humans move into town because they like the quaint feel of the place.
There’s no witch strong enough to work a protective spell that would cover an entire lake and town. That would take hundreds of witches, all with a protective focus. I’m not sure that many exist in the world, much less in Georgia.
“I brought sandwiches,” Mahon announces as he unfurls the blanket, the fabric settling on the shaded grass under my favorite laurel oak. Long branches stretch outward, glossy leaves providing relief from the glare of the sun.
On this hot day, we would have been cooler, sitting by the water, but I have an urge to protect my small dock. One of the few places in the world that’s mine. Though I like Mahon, I’m not ready to take him there even if it’s only a short distance away.
“I can’t believe you brought me lunch.” I settle cross-legged on the blanket.
When Levi and I were dating, he never surprised me with a meal. Sure, he’d bring me food. But eating together was always a preplanned event.
Before today, I would have said I didn’t like surprises. Maybe I’ll have to reevaluate.
“I bring you lunch all the time.” He chortles at his own joke, and I toss a twig at him. Mahon merely grins as the projectile bounces off his broad chest. “You’re a violent woman. I like that. We should wrestle.”
At the outrageous wiggle of his eyebrows, I find myself sinking into laughter. This shifter is impossibly easy to be around. Helps that he brought food. Popping the top off the cooler, Mahon pulls out sandwiches, like he promised, and a pitcher of brown liquid that I’m hoping is sweet tea.
And a full watermelon.
“Do you want me to go grab a knife?” I ask. “To cut that up?”
“That’ll ruin my whole plan!” Mahon scoops up the melon, holding the gourd away from me, as if I want to steal it.
“What plan?” I get the sense I should approach all of Mahon’s ideas with caution.
“To impress you with my brute strength.” Then, the bear stands up, clutching the watermelon with both hands, and brings it down in a swift move across his knee. The rind cracks, and Mahon digs his fingers into the fissure, tearing the melon in two with a mighty roar.
Juice goes everywhere.
Droplets fall like cool rain on my face, and I’m glad my clothes are dark colors. When I seek out Mahon’s gaze, I watch his triumph dim at the sight of the red splatter, including the stain forming on his shirt.
“Oh shit.”
Burying my face in my hands doesn’t do much to smother my snorts, and from the small puffs of air, I know my wings are quivering along with my hilarity.
“I pictured this going a different way.” Mahon’s face holds a ruddy blush when I glance over my webbing at him.
“H-how”—I sputter on my words as more giggles spill out—“did y-you see it going?”
“Well, I thought you might compliment my muscles. Maybe gasp. Clutch your pearls.” He offers a sheepish grin when I choke on a laugh.
“I do this all the time as a bear. But I guess I don’t worry about getting dirty.
I just jump in the lake to wash my fur.” With careful movements, Mahon sets the two watermelon halves on the top of the cooler before grimacing down at his shirt.
“You can take it off.” The words pop out of my mouth without warning. Or maybe my vulva learned how to speak because the horny parts of me are suddenly rabid to see the shifter shirtless.
Or naked.
The image of his muscular, pale ass is burned into my memory.
If I thought Mahon would be weirded out by my offer, I obviously need to stop expecting him to act like everyone else.
The bear doesn’t hesitate, shucking off his T-shirt and tossing the material to the side like the covering offends him.
I try not to stare, instead picking up one of the sandwiches and putting all my concentration into peeling off the brown paper wrapper.
A smile tugs at my mouth when I realize he brought turkey and avocado—my usual.
“So, Satine, tell me about yourself.” Mahon affects an almost-formal tone while simultaneously pouring me a cup of the brown liquid. “How do you fill your days in that big ole house of yours?”
Accepting the cup, I do a quick sniff check and immediately relax.
Tea, like I thought. “Work takes up a lot of time.” I sip and try not to pucker my lips at the wild amount of sugar.
Almost like drinking straight from a bottle of honey.
“I try sticking to an eight-to-five schedule, but then the end of the day rolls around, and I’m still working on projects.
Or putting out digital fires. Sometimes, I’m going ten-plus hours a day.
Still, I like it. A little bit of art, a little bit of management, and a whole lot of problem solving. ”
Mahon keeps his eyes on me as I talk, and then he drops his focus to my mouth when I bite into my sandwich. If I had hair follicles, no doubt his attention would cover me in goose bumps. As it is, my nipples pebble against my flimsy top.
“Who are you working your marketing magic for? Any places I might know?” The shifter snaps off a smaller corner of the mutilated watermelon and offers the dripping fruit to me.
“Our biggest client owns a string of gyms on the West Coast. Not sure you’d know them.
But I’ve done a few smaller projects for businesses in Folk Haven.
Just helping with setting up their social media pages and working out some style guides.
That kind of thing. That’s how I got to know Heath.
Of course, Sonya was the one to hire me.
” I refer to the siren who co-owns Coffee I’m sure your future mate will love it, no matter what. ’ ”
I can’t—oh gods—I can’t breathe. The laugh that forces its way out of my throat is almost a scream.
“He got real mad,” Mahon admits. “Threw a croissant at my head.”
Unable to even sit upright any longer, I lie out flat, facedown on the blanket, wondering if I’ll die of this laughter and realizing I’m so happy in this moment that I’d be okay if this was the way I went. Giggling myself to death, next to a charmingly oblivious bear.
Eventually, I calm down enough to turn my head and meet Mahon’s warm gaze.
His mouth curves at the corners when our eyes catch. “I used to think the buzz of a honeybee was the most beautiful sound in the world. But your laugh kicks that sound in the nuts.”
“That’s sweet. I think.” I push myself upright, wondering if I’ll ever be able to predict the next thing out of his mouth.
“I’d like this to be considered a date.”
Guess not.
I only hesitate for a second, and that’s so I can catch up with the change in conversation.
“Okay.” Why not?
The guy is handsome and funny and brought me food and said my laugh is beautiful. What would this be if it wasn’t a date?
“Awesome. We’re on a date. How am I doing?” Mahon leans forward, his bare chest with its heavy muscles and blanket of ginger curls threatening to distract me.
“Do you want to be ranked on a scale?” I’ve never given a man feedback on a date before.
“The only scale I care about is if I’m doing good enough for a kiss or not.”
At his words, I’m drawn back to the night of the dark moon. More accurately, the morning after, when his lips briefly touched mine. That gentle pressure set off a turbulent storm in my body, one that hasn’t fully abated.
What would happen if we really kissed? Deeply? For a prolonged amount of time?
For one, I’d probably feel more connected to a person than I have in a while. In years.
The temptation drives my answer. “Yes. You are doing that well.”
Mahon’s face lights up, this time not with a blush, but with shining joy. As if getting the chance to kiss me is a magnificent gift. As if he sees me the way I’ve always hoped someone would.