Chapter 4
SEBASTIAN
Ivy Hart’s face keeps rolling through my mind.
Along with other things. Like her curves in those leggings. The bright pink jacket.
And the blush that stained her cheeks when she returned my sweatshirt empty-handed.
That was weird.
And yet, there was something endearing about it. Which is ridiculous, because endearing has never been a word in my vocabulary.
And I don’t get involved with women.
Especially not stalkers.
Even if she has the kind of smile that makes a man reconsider bad decisions.
I grip the handle of my coffee mug tighter and take a long drink, draining the last of it. I don’t want to anger Ivy. She could curse me like the other witch did.
I cringe every time I think about the words Goddess Hecate leaving the witch’s lips. I sprinted for my car in my boxers, then tore out of her driveway like my life depended on it.
Because it did.
Calm down.
Ivy’s not a witch.
At least, I don’t think so.
I step out onto the back patio and immediately regret every life choice that brought me here.
The Vermont morning air is crisp, the sky pale and clear, and the woods behind my house look exactly as advertised—quiet, controlled, and predictable.
I stretch, adjust my watch, and head toward the trail that cuts through the trees.
Peace. That’s what I’m after.
Four steps in, a familiar feminine voice hits my ears.
“Hi, Sebastian!”
I nearly die.
My heart slams into my ribs as I jerk back, adrenaline flooding my system. I spin toward the sound, fists half-clenched, already cataloging escape routes and potential threats.
It’s Ivy.
She’s standing on the trail like she materialized from thin air. Bright-eyed. Smiling. Holding my sweatshirt.
“I remembered this time,” she says cheerfully.
I stare at her, chest heaving. My pulse races like I just outran a bear.
“Jesus—” I stop myself, dragging in a breath. “You can’t just—pop out like that.”
She blinks. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I swallow, forcing my heart rate back into something resembling normal. “It’s fine.”
It’s not, but witches and curses are never a good way to start the day.
“Here,” she says, stepping closer and holding out the sweatshirt.
I wave my hand. “Keep it.”
Her eyes widen.
“Are you… sure?” she asks, like I just offered her the deed to a small island.
“Yes,” I say too quickly. “I have plenty of sweatshirts.”
That’s true.
What’s also true is that watching her clutch it has apparently short-circuited my brain.
She hugs it to her chest. “Wow,” she says softly. “Thanks.”
Something tightens low in my stomach.
I shift my weight.
Mistake. This was a mistake.
But it’s too late now.
I’m really uncomfortable. My brain is no longer functioning properly.
“So… the path in the woods.” I tilt my head, eyes flicking toward the trail behind me. “Where does it lead?”
The smile that curls her lips is so wide I bet her cheeks ache. Her eyes glow with awe—then excitement—like I just asked a question only she knows the answer to.
“Oh!” She brightens. “I know it well. It goes past my house and loops around the lakeside trail. It’s a small lake, but really peaceful. You’ll enjoy it.”
I stare at her.
Lovely. Any time I use it, she’ll probably think I’m stalking her.
It’s not a stretch. The way she’s clutching my sweatshirt like it’s a bag of money is sending red flags flying in my head.
Hell, she probably thinks we’re engaged now or something crazy.
She catches my look and shrugs lightly. “I walk it a lot.”
Of course she does. I’m not remotely surprised.
“Great,” I finally say. “I’ll check it out.”
She steps aside immediately, giving me space. “Have a nice run.”
I nod and start forward, relief filling me.
Legs don’t fail me now.
I take off running, trying to put distance between her and me. Even though a strange part of me doesn’t want distance.
What the hell? Did she curse it with some kind of spell?
I don’t get involved. Period.
My thoughts spiral, but I snap out of it long enough to realize she’s following me. I feel her gaze burning through my clothing.
She is absolutely staring at my ass.
I shouldn’t like it.
But I do.
I reach the point where the trail bends past her house and, without thinking, I slow and turn slightly.
I lift my hand in a brief wave.
She freezes.
Her eyes go wide, then she waves back—big and enthusiastic, like I just validated something important.
Uh oh.
I lower my hand and keep moving, my jaw tight, my mind racing.
Did I just encourage something I shouldn’t have… by waving?
Because that moment feels like something I’m going to regret.
And also something I’ll think about all day.
It has to be the curse that the witch put on me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t care about Ivy Hart in the slightest.
Yup, that’s it.
I’m cursed.
It’s the reason I glance back at her house and scan the yard until I see her going inside.
She has a really nice ass.
I force myself to look away and keep my eyes firmly on the trail as I pump my arms and legs, trying to outrun her.
Even though she’s not chasing me anymore.
Which is probably for the best.