Chapter 5
King’s Cross St. Pancras was gloriously quiet in the evenings after the rush-hour crowd had all passed through. Halloween decorations and early sparkling Christmas lights lit Dina’s way through the station, and she delighted in listening to the music a teenager was playing on the free piano in the walkway. The way his fingers moved over the keys, the song echoing around them, was its own kind of magic.
Sitting down in a four-seater, Dina laid Heebie’s carrier beside her and tried to settle. It was just under an hour to Little Hathering. Immy’s wedding was taking place in a country house nearby.
Gradually, the train began to fill, and Dina let the sound of the other passengers wash over her. She was just about to crack open a horror novel—one of Immy’s recommendations—when she heard a click. A very familiar click, followed by a scrabbling.
By the time she looked down it was too late. Heebie, by some unearthly power that only cats possess, had unlocked her carrier and zoomed off down the carriage.
“Fuck.” Dina groaned and hauled her ass up to chase the cat. This was so unlike Heebie, who had never attempted to escape her carrier. She was surprised she even knew how…well, not that surprised. Heebie was a familiar after all.
“Excuse me, sorry, excuse me,” Dina muttered as she wove around other travelers trying to find their seats. Every few seconds she caught sight of Heebie’s black tail, swishing around the passengers’ heels.
Then she couldn’t see her anymore. Dina’s heart thrummed anxiously in her chest. She could compel Heebie to her with magic, but if Heebie had run away she might not respond to it. And she didn’t want to get caught doing magic in public either. There was also the small matter that Dina’s magic never quite worked how she intended when it came to animals.
The last time she had tried magic on Heebie, the cat had ended up talking in a high-pitched baby voice, constantly demanding treats, tuna, or pets. Thank god that spell had only lasted a couple of nights.
Then Dina heard a familiar meow, and she pushed past a family of four to find Heebie contentedly licking her paws and resting in the arms of a tall dark-haired man who was studiously tickling her under the chin.
“Heebie, what are you—” she began to say, but her thoughts dissipated as the man looked up. It was the same man from the café, with his strong nose and lopsided smile. The man she had so easily fallen into conversation with; the man who had taken her breath away.
His eyes widened as he recognized her.
“Hello again,” he said, his voice smooth as honey. “Is this cat yours?” Heebie’s purr switch was turned up to maximum; she clearly liked this guy. And she generally wasn’t a fan of men, so that was saying something.
“She is. I don’t even know how she…Heebie, come here,” Dina said, partly out of breath and partly shocked to silence. Of all the trains in London, he was here, and Heebie was in his arms. This wasn’t exactly an ill omen, but she sure as hell didn’t know what to make ofit.
Dina reached out to take Heebie from him, but the cat hissed, digging her nails into his very nice jumper.
“Hmm. Clearly you’ve made quite the impression,” Dina said.
He shrugged. “I’m more of a dog person really, but I like this one. She’s very round.”
“I hope you aren’t calling my cat fat?” Dina flicked up an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Listen, shall I just bring her back to where you’re sitting? I haven’t booked a seat anyway.”
Dina had to agree this made the most logical sense, but she couldn’t shake the knowing glint in Heebie’s eyes as the man carried her back to Dina’s seat. As if this was all part of her master plan.
She also couldn’t help but glance at the man’s stature as he cradled Heebie in one hand, holding his bag with the other. His chest was so broad he took up the whole aisle, and he had to stoop a little as he lowered himself into a seat so as not to headbutt the overhead luggage rack.
Dina noticed all of this with complete detachedness, of course, and it definitely didn’t give her butterflies.
Only once he was sitting down opposite Dina did Heebie deign to re-enter her cat carrier, falling asleep almost immediately.
“So, you’re more of a dog person, huh?” Dina asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “That’s highly suspicious. Everyone knows that cat people are the best people.”
“If you say so.” He smirked. It set Dina’s pulse racing.
Now, sitting opposite him, she could get a better look at his features, and she was trying very, very hard to ignore the fact that he was fucking gorgeous. A heavy brow, those eyes that she couldn’t bear to hold contact with for too long, a perfectly wonky nose, a lopsided smile, and a jawline that could cut glass peppered with a trimmed beard.
He had a few lines on his forehead that spoke of days spent in the sun without sunscreen, and he was perhaps in his early thirties? He wasn’t wearing his glasses now, but Dina thought no glasses suited him just as well.
“I never got your name, at the café,” he said, as if she needed reminding of their interaction yesterday. She carefully folded her hands under the table, just in case the henna there decidedto start acting up again.
“It’s Dina,” she said, her mouth feeling dry. “And you are?”
“Scott. Scott Mason.” He reached a hand across the table to shake hers, and Dina put out a hand. As they shook, she noticed that his hand enveloped hers entirely, and it sent a delicious shiver careening through her. Who knew shaking hands could be so hot?
It was nice, pretending to flirt with a stranger. Because she was only pretending, she told herself. Then she remembered what the tea leaves had said. Romance is on the horizon. She quashed the thought.
Outside the train, the London suburbs whizzed by in a blur. The apartment blocks turned into houses, those houses into cottages surrounded by green lawns, and then the countryside unfurled around them, filling the windows with views of heathered fields and woodland and sleeping sheep.
“So, what made you open a café, Dina?” Scott asked.
“How do you know I own it?” she countered.
“I just assumed, I guess. The whole place—it…it looks like you. If that makes sense.”
Somehow, it did.
“I opened it to make people happy, really. I wanted somewhere that would feel like an oasis for people in the city—you know, when you’re out and about having a long day and you just need somewhere to sit and exhale and switch off with a good cup of tea for a while. And you work at the museum, don’t you, Scott?” Dina couldn’t help it. She liked the sound of his name on her lips.
“What gave it away—was it the elbow patches?” He chuckled, a deep rumbling laugh.
“Unfortunately, yes, dead giveaway.”
“Ah well, it’s the only uniform they let curators wear, so you’ll have to get used to it.” He looked at her from beneath those dark lashes and heat licked at her spine. You’ll have to get used toit.
“Is that what you do then?”
“I’m a curator. I haven’t been there for long. I’m trying to bring a bit more of the modern day to the museum.”
“In what sense?”
“An interactive tablet here, an exhibition focusing on ancient Islamic art there. But mainly I’m attempting to sort out the way the British Museum handles artifacts they not so secretly stole from the Middle East during the Second World War. I want—Ireally want—to return what we can. Or at least create an exhibition that travels on a permanent basis around the museums of North Africa and the Middle East.”
“That’s really admirable,” Dina said, and he smiled shyly. “You’re doing a reverse Indiana Jones.”
“I’ll tell my boss you said so the next time she thinks I’m acting too old for my age.”
Scott shifted in his seat, his leg briefly brushing her knee under the table. Heat flared at the touch. She shouldn’t be letting this man—this stranger—get her so riled up. Stick to talking, Dina, and quit staring into his eyes.
“What did you do before being a curator?” she asked, definitely not staring into his dreamy eyes.
“I traveled, working for different museums around the world. I”—he ran a hand through his dark hair—“I hadn’t been back to England for a while.”
“But now you’re back, you’re planning to stay?”
He smirked. “I think I will.”
The train pulled into a station deep in the countryside, and Dina realized that they had already been talking for nearly half an hour. She was running out of time to drink her hot chocolate, so she might as well share that and some of the ginger and persimmon cake she’d brought with her.
She pulled off the cup that was attached to the top of the flask and opened it up. Chocolate-scented steam rose into the air.
“That smells lovely,” Scott murmured, his eyes closing a little. Hot chocolate often made her feel the same. Like she was wrapped up in a cozy chocolate-scented blanket. She needed the calming magic that was brewed into this right now though, because each glance from Scott sent a buzz reverberating through her whole body.
“Would you like some?” she asked.
“If you have a spare cup, I wouldn’t say no.”
Dina didn’t have a spare cup, but that’s what magic was for. She stuck an arm in her bag, which was not quite a Mary Poppins bag but was known to rustle up pretty much whatever she needed in the moment if she thought hard enough about it. Her finger hooked on the handle of a mug. She popped it down on the table and realized in horror that the mug said “World’s Best Cat Mum” on the side, complete with a set of pawprints.
“How self-congratulatory,” Scott teased.
Dina ignored him, because he was definitely not funny and handsome, and poured the hot chocolate into both mugs. It frothed a little on top, just as she liked it. But no hot chocolate was complete without marshmallows. She dug her hand back into the bag, pulling out a sizable handful of pink and white mini marshmallows.
As Dina passed Scott his mug, their fingers touched. The henna on her wrist flared to life again, and Dina quickly pulled her hand away. Note to self, no more magic henna around Scott.
Unaware of her turmoil, Scott leaned back in his seat and sipped the hot chocolate.
“You made this?” he said in a soft tone.
“Mmm. It’s a secret recipe, which I’m taking to my grave.” She slurped at her drink and caught Scott watching her intently as she licked some melted marshmallow off her top lip.
“You missed a spot,” he said. “MayI?”
Dina nodded.
He reached out and stroked her upper lip with his thumb, his eyes boring into her all the while. She absolutely did not catch her breath as his hand moved gently across her face. She didn’t inhale his bergamot and cedar scent. And when Scott pulled his hand back and licked the marshmallow off his thumb, Dina definitely didn’t flush all over. It was just warm on this train.
Unfortunately, the train chose that moment to announce that they would shortly be arriving at Little Hathering station. She didn’t want this journey to end.
Dina put away the empty hot chocolate mugs and began to arrange her things to depart. Scott did the same, getting up and wrapping a scarf around his neck. Apparently, Dina could be jealous of a scarf.
“You’re getting off here too?” she asked.
“Yeah, visiting my mums.”
“Would you mind?” she said, pointing at her bag on the rack above. With Heebie, who was now whining in her crate, unsettled by the movement, she had her hands full.
When he reached up, the top of his shirt lifted and she glimpsed a dark-haired snail trail and heavy, packed muscle. She looked away, blushing. He could pick her up like she weighed nothing.
They got off the train together and stood on the windy platform. The cold had picked up, and Dina’s breath steamed as she exhaled. She was home.
“You know, since we’re both here for the weekend, perhaps—” But Scott never got to finish what he’d been about to say, because an older woman started calling his name from the station exit.
He smiled. “That’s my mum.”
Dina looked up at Scott—it was hard not to, since he towered above her, taking up most of her field of vision. Maybe she should give him her number? But then the whole interaction yesterday replayed itself in her mind. The bad omens at the café. The fallen hamsa when he’d entered. The tea leaves. It would end in disaster—that’s what was predicted.
Dina could see how it would all play out: the dating, the sex—which would be phenomenal, she had no doubts about that—and then Dina would fall hard, because she always did, and the hex would hurt Scott just as it had hurt those before him.
She looked down at herself, seeing her bushy hair flying out in all directions, her ill-fitting jeans, her top that had a coffee stain on the bottom. There was no way he’d been flirting with her; she must have misread the signals. Not when she looked like this.
If she offered him her number, she’d only be embarrassing herself. She wasn’t ready for more embarrassment, and certainly not for more heartbreak.
“It was nice to meet you. Bye.” She spoke with as cold a tone as she could manage, and walked away, Heebie yowling in her carrier all the while. Then she hurried out of the station, careening down the hill into the center of the village. She only looked back once.