Chapter 6
The elder Mr. Thorne visited me. He’s got the podagra again, his big toe is horrendously inflamed. I scolded him for his diet. Too much venison, duck, and ale.
Fortunately, I had just harvested radish, bishopwort, garlic, wormwood, helenium, and cropleek to concoct a new batch of salve, boiling them in butter with celandine and red nettle, because I had known he’d be back.
It’s well enough to come to me for the treatment, but heaven forbid he listen to my advice on stopping the condition in the first place.
Present Day
Three hours later, the bar was almost closed. They talked until the musicians packed up, the other patrons left, and the bartender was wiping the tables.
Rowan gave her a knowing look from behind the bar. Time to get home. She had to open the store in the morning.
She'd never felt the kind of connection she felt with Zane, as if they'd known each other forever.
Occasionally, she thought he might be holding something back, but she could be completely wrong.
It was crazy, this feeling of déjà vu that kept coming over her.
He'd move in a certain way, and for a moment, it was if she'd been thrown back in the past.
She wasn't opposed to the idea of reincarnation or past lives, but she'd never really considered it for herself.
Luckily, she hadn't had any more accidents with her magic, but it was getting harder to hide the mishaps from him.
She felt light as air, as if she could float along without her feet touching the ground.
She stood up a little too quickly, and her head whirled. “Whoa!”
Zane jumped up and held her. “You okay?”
“Head rush,” she laughed. Then her body reacted to the caress of his fingertips on her skin.
He lifted his hands and stepped back. “Sorry.”
“Those Finch 75’s pack quite the punch.”
“Might not be only the drinks.” He smiled again, highlighting that crooked lip that was so charming.
As they spoke, they edged closer together until no one penetrated their little circle.
They'd had to move closer because the musicians were loud enough that it would be difficult to hear, but when they stopped, they hadn’t moved apart.
He'd whispered in her ear, the soft puff of his breath tickling her senses.
He smelled of the rosemary in the gin and the sweetness of the cava.
He was so close she could see the striations in his irises, like a whole universe just waited for her to fall into.
“I should get home. I've got to open the store in the morning.”
“I'll walk you back.”
“It's literally across the street.”
“I don't care.”
The air was cooler this late at night. Clouds had drifted in, obscuring the moon; stippled light filtered through and cast its magic along the streets.
The town was sleepy, near silent, except for the soft lights of the Hex and Hearth. The porch light over the Tidal Inn welcomed visitors. A single light shone in the window of the bookstore, illuminating the old texts and the new books.
He walked towards the front door.
“Not that way. Around the back.”
A picket fence with a gate surrounded the yard. She loved her backyard. It was like a fairytale universe filled with fountains of trickling water, lush plants cascading over statues, and fairy lights draping from tree to tree to create a ceiling of lights.
“It’s enchanting.” His praise warmed her insides.
She tripped the latch, and all the lights blinked on, reacting to her thoughts.
Mercy froze. But Zane kept walking. Relief rushed through her. He must have assumed they were on motion sensors.
She walked to the back door and turned the knob.
“You don't lock your door?”
She laughed. “No, just makes it easier to get in when I've been out.” Nothing would get past her wards. But she wasn’t about to share that with him.
“That's not very safe,” he said sharply. He worried for her safety, which was sweet of him.
“Don’t fret. It's protected.” His concern was charming.
He glanced around, looked at the eaves. “Oh, security cameras?”
“Something like that.”
She smiled and hoped it was mysterious, sexy.
Her hands on the doorknob behind her, she leaned back against the door and tilted her chin.
His eyes were shadowed.
“Thank you for a fascinating evening,” Mercy said.
“I had a great time.” He didn’t have to sound so surprised.
“Me, too.”
Before he could do anything less than say goodnight, she reached out, fisted her hand in his shirt.
“I had a really nice time.” She pulled him towards her. The sudden move threw him a little bit off balance, but he still managed to catch himself and gently touch his lips to hers.
The contact was delicious. His mouth, with that charming, quirked lip, was very talented. She softened and reached her tongue out tentatively, touching the tip to that tiny crookedness.
He pulled away slightly. “Well, that was unexpected.”
“Unexpected, good? Or unexpected, bad?” She sounded way too needy, and she couldn’t help it.
“Unexpectedly delightful,” he said.
He cupped her face, his fingers curling around the back of her neck, his palms framing her jaw.
“Let's see if I can do a little better.” He bent his head and pressed a series of kisses to her mouth, each one longer than the next.
“You're smiling,” he said.
“Why wouldn't I be?” Her body tingled.
The urge to bring him inside overwhelmed her. “Come inside,” she whispered.
He smiled, his eyes soft, sweet. “Not tonight.” As if implying maybe some other night. “Lock your door behind me.”
She laughed. “Okay.”
“Goodnight, Miss Mercy.” He strolled away with a swing in his step.
What had been supposed to be a rebound romp, maybe a little physical activity to burn off some residual steam, suddenly felt like… more.
She couldn’t explain this sudden connection.
Which made her suspicious. She wavered between wanting to jump and being afraid to get closer because this felt different. It felt momentous. Heavy, almost. With a gravitas she didn’t understand.
She didn’t trust it. After all, wasn’t jumping in what usually got her in trouble?