Chapter Three
Payton nearly jumped out of her skin when the door slammed shut, but she’d be damned if she would check to see who’d just stormed into the apartment.
Cowardly, yes, but with her luck, Dailey had found her and was ready to drag her butt to the pokey.
She’d barely managed to escape without him catching her the first time.
“You here?” Rowan called.
Dropping her shoulders and shrugging off her disappointment at her visitor not being the man she loved, Payton stormed out of the bedroom and into the living room.
“Some friend you are!” she yelled. “You left me at the first sign of trouble.”
“I can’t help it. It’s my wolfy fight-or-flight instincts.”
“That’s pretty much what I said to Lee,” Payton said with a sour look.
“Yeah, and being burned—”
She held up a hand. “I told him that, too.”
Rowan’s brows shot up. “What did he say?”
“That I have terrible taste in friends.”
She laughed. Therein lay Rowan’s true beauty. Not only was she the perfect package on the outside, but when her amusement took hold, she was breathtaking. It still astonished Payton whenever she thought about how Harrison Cobb was completely oblivious to her friend’s charms.
Payton rolled her eyes as she pushed past her to lock the door. Not that it mattered. If Dailey decided to storm the castle, so to speak, he’d simply flick a finger and unlock the deadbolt.
Right as she was about to give her bestie a firm dressing down, a knock sounded, causing them to freeze. Rowan’s green eyes flew wide, and it wasn’t hard to guess her F&F instincts were warring again.
“Stay calm,” Payton hissed. She peered through the peephole and, seeing no one but a deliveryman, exhaled her relief. “It’s just a package.”
The door was halfway open when Rowan posed a terrifying question. “What company delivers at midnight?”
“Motherfuck—”
The guy pushed into the room, and the glamour fell away, revealing Dailey.
The glass sliding door whooshed open behind her, but Payton didn’t need to look to know Rowan had bailed again.
“That bitch,” she muttered.
Dailey snorted. “It’s not like she could save you, and she knew it.”
“A little moral support would be nice.” Payton plopped down on the chair and reached for the footwear she’d kicked off ten minutes before. “Let me get these on, and I’ll go peacefully this time.”
“Relax. I’m off duty and tired as hell. We’ll take this up again in the morning.” He shut the door on the way to the kitchen. “What do you have to eat?”
After she managed to pull her jaw off the floor, she shook her head.
“I’m not sure. Elara stocked the fridge today, but I only just got here before her party.
I didn’t have time to explore.” She toed her shoe off, beyond thrilled she didn’t need to wear heels to jail.
Her feet were already killing her from all the dancing earlier.
Padding to the counter, she climbed onto a stool and tucked her chin in hand.
“Why are you being nice? If you didn’t come to arrest me, what is the point of showing up this late?”
Dailey peered around the refrigerator door, eyebrows almost to his hairline. “You think I’m being nice?”
“For you. Lately.”
“Fair.” He set eggs, cheese, a slew of vegetables, and butter on the counter. “Omelet?”
“No.” Waving him off, she stumbled to the pantry. “I’m good with chips.”
“Your diet is as horrific as your friends, Pay.”
“Not much has changed in the last few years.” She paused, snack halfway to her mouth. “I’m sorry, Lee, I didn’t—”
“Don’t call me that,” he snapped.
“You’re going to insist on Officer Knob—er, Cobb?”
“No. Dailey works well enough,” he said grudgingly as he dumped a teaspoon of butter into a pan.
She couldn’t say she didn’t get it. When he called her “Pay,” her heart had flipped, and that old gooey feeling had filled her chest. Nicknames were off the table if they wanted any semblance of friendship moving forward.
“I’ll ask again. What is the point of showing up here?” she asked softly.
“I had a plan until Tripp and Hermes shot it to hell.”
Payton didn’t love the way his mouth tightened with disappointment. Throughout their entire relationship, Dailey always scheduled out his days, weeks, and hell, even his months. If his newest scheme had gone to ruin, he’d be scrambling to right it or come up with a new one.
Hunger forgotten, she rolled the top of the bag and shoved it back onto the pantry shelf. “Dare I ask what ‘it’ was?”
He glanced up from chopping a pepper. “It?”
“The plan,” she replied.
“No,” he said succinctly.
“Dailey.”
“Drop it. All I want is to eat my omelet in peace.”
Hands on hips and glare in full force, she snapped, “Then maybe you shouldn’t have come here.”
He turned off the burner and shoved the pan toward the back of the stovetop.
“Fine,” he replied. “You want to argue, let’s argue.”
The fine lines around his eyes seemed deeper, and his lips were pinched, as if he was really fighting fatigue. Payton felt like a raging bitch. Her throat grew tight as they stared at one another.
How in the hell would she ever walk away from him a second time? But it wasn’t like she had a choice, right? It wasn’t as if he were there to patch things up by promising the moon and stars, along with kicking his mother to the curb.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked. And she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for: running away or ruining his meal. Likely both.
Dailey rounded the counter to stand before her, and the force of his presence made the room too small.
“You were the only peace I had in Witchmere. Is it so odd I’d seek your company when I’m feeling unsettled today?” he asked.
“Yes. Not four hours ago, you hated me and wanted to arrest me.”
His disturbing gaze dropped to her lips, and he stared as if he were contemplating kissing her.
“True.” He nodded slowly, as if just remembering the fact. “Though I didn’t hate you. I was angry, which seems to be my default setting these days.” He locked gazes with her. “But I discovered something else in the interim.”
“What’s that?”
“You made me laugh when I believed I couldn’t.” He frowned. “When I’m around you, I experience a tingling, as if my soul is trying to wake up again,” he confessed.
“I’ve always had that,” she replied softly, cupping his jaw.
For a brief instant, he closed his eyes and allowed the touch, rolling his cheek into her palm. But he quickly woke from whatever enchantment they’d been weaving. Stepping back, he broke the contact.
“Yeah, well…” He cleared his throat.
Because she missed the feel of him, she stepped forward and placed her palm against his chest.
“Why do you stay in Witchmere if it causes you unrest?”
“Where else would I go?” he asked, turning away to finish whipping the eggs.
“Literally anywhere.”
“You mean run away? Like you?” Tone stiff and shoulders rigid, he shot her a scathing glance.
“You’re never going to forgive me, are you?” The ache in her chest was so acute, she couldn’t catch her breath. It couldn’t hurt worse if he plunged a blade into her heart.
Dailey hung his head, and his sigh was soul weary.
“I don’t know, Pay. I honestly don’t know.” When he met her tearful gaze, his expression softened. “Maybe. One day.”
Any forgiveness at all was more than she deserved.
She nodded and hip-checked him to take over his meal.
“Go sit down, Dailey. Rest your feet, and I’ll make this.”
“It’s not going to get you out of trouble. You were drinking and driving.”
“Prove it. Anything I may have consumed—and I’m not admitting to shit without a lawyer present—is out of my system.” Thank you, high metabolism!
His grin flashed, almost taking her out at the knees. “Same ol’ Payton. You’ll fight authority until your dying day.”
“Probably. Now go. I can’t concentrate with you this close.” She could’ve bitten her fucking tongue off when his smile widened.
Dailey kicked off his work boots and settled on the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table.
Grabbing one of the decorative pillows, he tucked it behind his head and closed his eyes.
His earlier dreams had all consisted of him coming home to a smiling Payton and a delicious home-cooked or conjured meal.
The idea was to rest until he got a second wind, then make love to her all night.
But his vision of the perfect life had been dashed the day she’d bolted.
Recalling better times, he drifted to sleep.
“Dailey.” Her voice floated to him on a wave of perfume—gardenias and something wild, totally Payton.
Wrapped in a haze of desire and longing, he lifted his lids. And there she was, apron around her waist, plate in hand, soft smile on display. His perfect mate.
“You fell asleep,” she said.
She hadn’t left him?
“It was all a nightmare?” he asked, bleary-eyed and feeling half-drugged.
“What?”
Her confusion cleared his cobwebs, and he shook his head, reaching for the dish she offered.
“Yeah, sorry,” he muttered, vastly disappointed this was his reality. Clearly he’d been haunted by the ghost of Christmas past.
“I’ll leave you in peace to eat your omelet.”
“Stay,” he urged, latching on to her wrist.
She appeared shocked that he’d voluntarily touched her. Embarrassment was a new emotion, but it sent heat up his throat and into his cheeks.
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s cool.” She sat beside him, hugging a pillow as she curled her legs beneath her. And damned if she didn’t look like a seductive goddess.
But he supposed she was. Or as close to it as possible. Last Christmas, it came out that she and Elara were of Titan descent. The fact explained so much: her not-so-subtle allure, his undying attraction to her even when he wanted to murder her, and his inability to eradicate her from his mind.
“Have your abilities blossomed since your parents removed their binding spell?” he asked, curious despite himself. He shoveled in a forkful, and when Payton opened her mouth to reply, Dailey cut her off with an appreciative groan. “Mm, this is incredible. When did you learn to cook like this?”
“It’s no different than any omelet I’ve made for you. You’re the one who prepped the ingredients,” she said with a light laugh.
“No, you did something different,” he insisted, inhaling another bite.
“Cross my heart, I didn’t.” She followed her words with action.
He frowned down at his food. “Pay—”
“Your food is untouched by magic, Dailey,” she said tightly. Tossing the pillow down, she rose. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Appetite gone, he scraped his plate and prepared to clean the kitchen, only to realize she already had. Feeling like ten kinds of fool, he sought her out.
Sitting alone in the center of the large bed, she appeared lost.
“I’m sorry it seemed like I was accusing you of anything sketchy, Payton.
I guess I forgot how good your cooking is.
” He cast her a half smile. “I still think you should’ve gone into business with Britney Sanderson.
Her management skills and your magic in the kitchen… ” He blew a chef’s kiss. “Dream team.”
Her ghost of a return smile was melancholy. “Yes. I missed a golden opportunity. Good night, Dailey.”
As far as hints went, hers had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
“We need to talk,” he began.
“Not tonight.” Her steely tone said she wouldn’t relent. With an arched brow and an uncaring shrug, she asked, “When are you on duty again?”
“Seven.”
She gasped and glanced at her smartwatch. “In the morning? Dailey! You’re not allowing yourself enough downtime between shifts.”
His irritation spiked. The fault was hers. He’d rather work himself into a stupor than have free time to recall what they’d had. And he sure as shit hadn’t been able to move on after her stunt in the alleyway. Resolve shifted back into place, and he set his jaw.
“Be at the station as soon as you’ve had your morning coffee, Hawthorne.”
Shit. Wrong thing for him to say. Her narrow-eyed glare said it would happen when a blizzard happened in hell, and Dailey fought the urge to chuckle.
Again with the amusement! What was happening? Was the curse running its course like Hermes and Tripp suggested?
If that were the case, he’d be sad. He’d yet to enact his revenge.
Speaking of…
His lips curled, and placing one knee on the mattress, he caged her between his arms.
Her breath hitched along with something in his chest.
“I’ll tell you what. You—” he began.
She palmed his face and shoved. “Get out, tool.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he protested with a laugh.
“I can damn well guess, and I don’t bargain with sex.” With her arms crossed and her chin jutted skyward, she presented a challenge. Dailey loved nothing more than a daring woman.
“Really? I could swear you attempted to bribe an officer of the law earlier tonight.” He tapped his chin like he was attempting to recall. “As a matter of fact, it’s one of the charges I’ll be leveling against you. For the record, our entire exchange was caught on my body cam.”
“I hate you.” Like a thwarted child, she kicked out.
He evaded the blow, dancing away from the bed. The tingling was back, and his cells had never felt more alive despite his lack of sleep.
“See you tomorrow, jailbird.” With a wink, he turned to go.
“Not if I see you first.”
Pausing in the doorway, he met her furious gaze. “You’re better than such an overused cliché, Wildfire.”
She sputtered, but thankfully in her anger missed him calling her by his pet name.
What in the blue blazes had come over him tonight? Not once, but twice. First arriving here, needing to see her at the end of a trying day, and second calling her the nickname he reserved for their steamiest nights.
She jumped up and stalked his way.
“Fine. How about the next time you see me, it will be with my lawyer present, Officer Knob? Does that pack enough snark for you?”
Dailey did his damnedest not to laugh, going so far as to bite the inside of his cheek.
“Better, but still not your best,” he taunted.
“Then let’s go with this one. If you think you’ll ever get the last word, you’re dumber than your mother’s brainless Pomeranian, Officer Knob,” she replied smugly, going so far as to slam the door in his face.
His blood heated, but not with the standard anger he’d felt over the previous year. No, his body was primed and ready for a different game.
Whistling a jaunty tune, he teleported to his house. Tomorrow would be soon enough to retrieve his cruiser.