Chapter 6
6
T his close, Storm’s eyes are lighter than I first thought. They’re gray, actually, and gorgeous (just like him), with flecks of brown.
His hair is silvery, but it doesn’t make him look old. It makes him look unique, hard-edged, as if he’s really lived life. Like maybe he was once lost in the mountains during a snowstorm, separated from the rest of his family, and the only way that he could reunite with them was to weather the cold, harsh, deserted mountain, climbing the icy sheets with his bare hands. The wind being so fierce that it burned his sk?—
“Storm, good to see you,” Devlin says like he’s biting off pieces of steel from an airplane.
“Same to you, Devlin.” Storm places a hand over his heart like he’s sincere. Well, at least one of them is. “Will you be dropping any new inventions soon?”
A tight smile, a smile that’s holding back fury. “I hope to. Got one right on the edges of my mind, but you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
One side of Storm’s mouth tips up in a half smile. His lips are thin, I notice, but not so thin that they can’t take hold of mine and claim them for himself.
“Would I know about your invention?” is all Storm asks.
We stand there for a long, awkward silence. Devlin must’ve forgotten what’s going on, so I clear my throat and glare at him. His eyes snap from Storm’s back to me.
“That’s right. You were cutting in. Well, Grayson, that’s usually not how these things are done?—”
“Yes, you can have me,” I declare like a heroine in a bodice-ripping novel. Have me? Did I really just say that? Why don’t I wrap myself up in a bow and show up at his hotel room later? That would look less desperate than I sound right now.
Also, Ovie would die if she heard me throwing myself at Grayson. Or would she? She does want me to marry, after all.
Before Devlin can embarrass himself by arguing about the etiquette of Storm cutting in, I unhook my hand from his shoulder and tug the other one from his grasp.
At first he doesn’t want to let go, but one sizzling look from me and he releases his hold.
I turn to Grayson and smile. There are other people on the dance floor, and the music has shifted from the tempo of sweat bath to one that’s more like lounging in a pool float on a summer’s day.
Perfect for getting to know Storm.
Devlin slinks away like a hyena who’s stolen his latest meal, while I beam up at my new dance partner. Even though he’s tall, I’m not overextending my elbow joint in order to rest my hand on his shoulder, and I’m not looking up his nostrils and seeing his brain. This is a good start.
Also, his hand is warm, not sweaty, and when he begins to dance, he’s easy to follow. One gentle touch from Storm and I know which way that we’re moving, as if it’s instinct.
Not trying to get ahead of myself here, but this might be a perfect match.
Better rein in that enthusiasm. At least for now.
“Blair Thornrose,” he purrs. “I’m Storm Grayson.”
I’ve never been properly instructed on how to introduce myself to a celebrity. Are you supposed to pretend like you don’t know who they are? Or are you supposed to say, I know exactly who you are. Sounds kinda desperate and way too fangirl for me.
So I just go with, “It’s nice to meet you.”
He quirks a brow in intrigue. “You mean, you’re not going to ask how I know who you are?”
Time to flirt this up. An innocent shrug seems appropriate. “I assume you asked and someone told you. After all, the ball invitations have my name on them.”
He stares down at me, and a little shiver of excitement threads throughout my body. “They do. But there are plenty of other eligible bachelorettes here.”
Why is he talking about them? “But you’re not dancing with them.”
“No, I’m not.”
I grin. “So you did seek me out.”
He smiles, and it’s like seeing the heavens part. Nothing like the arrogant smiles that are Devlin Ross’s forte—you know, how one side of his mouth becomes lopsided like he’s totally innocent of all wrongdoing when it’s obvious that he’s Satan himself.
My body certainly responds to him like he’s the devil.
Stop thinking about Devlin and focus on Storm.
“I did look for you,” he confesses.
From the corner of my eye, my grandmother edges to the rim of the ballroom, watching us with the intensity of an eagle about to steal a meal from a hawk.
Can someone please stop her?
Just as I’m thinking it, Ovie spots Nana and tries to drag her away, but it’s impossible to move what cannot be budged by physical strength.
Nana makes a face and tries to argue, but Ovie convinces her to go on.
I release a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. And another crisis averted. For now.
Nana’s hell-bent on ruining this for me. If wind of her presence gets out, my chances will be ruined. Stop. Do not pass go. Do-not-collect-$200 ruined.
“Tell me about you,” he says.
And just like that, my attention is back on the handsome Mr. Grayson. “What would you like to know?”
“Whatever you think I might enjoy learning.”
Not sure if the sentence was supposed to sound seductive, but it did. Heat crawls along the back of my neck. “I work at my family’s bookstore.”
“Ah yes, Castleview Books.”
“That’s the one.”
“What do you do there?”
“I help put readers into the stories that they adore.” My heart swells because it’s something that I love. Or loved. Used to be, people loved having me help them, but now my presence is obsolete—like I’m a horse and buggy compared to that new-fangled invention they’re all calling the horseless carriage.
The car.
“You’re an inventor,” I muse.
“I am.” He spins me out, and I come back to him, falling against his chest. Storm catches me expertly, and we stay in that position one, two, almost three seconds (while my blood sizzles, by the way) before he gently pushes me out and I take hold of his shoulder once more.
“Any new inventions on the horizon?”
“There’s one. There’s always one, but from the way that Devlin’s looking at me, it seems he’d prefer I didn’t have any.”
What?
It takes a moment to find Devlin, and when I do, he’s staring fiery spears at Storm.
He is not going to ruin this for me.
As Storm spins me in a different direction, I glare at Devlin until he catches me looking and begrudgingly glances away.
Good. Keep it like that.
“Don’t worry about Devlin. He’s just jealous because your inventions are great.”
That catches Storm by surprise. “You think so?”
“Of course.” What has he invented again? Think, Blair! “I’ve used Magical Messages for ages, and you came up with that when you were, what? A teenager?”
He looks completely impressed with my knowledge of his pubescent life. “Fifteen. I was fifteen when I invented that, but to be honest”—dramatic, woe-is-me sigh—“it’s really a bit prehistoric in terms of inventions, at least compared to what I’m doing now.”
I chuckle because of course it’s prehistoric. He’s in his thirties. Isn’t he?
But when I laugh, Storm’s eyes narrow hard and fast on me. I clear my throat in embarrassment. “Well, it seems that of course anything you created when you were younger would probably be juvenile compared to your talents now,” I explain.
“Yes,” he agrees, sniffing and glancing into the crowd, “they would be. You’re right. I’m always so hard on myself.”
Is he opening up to me? Like, opening up and we’ve only just met? Yes, Storm Grayson is being vulnerable. I might cry tears of joy.
“I know what you mean. When I can’t give a reader a great experience, it really weighs on me. Even though it may seem so small and simple, it’s funny how I take it personally.”
He sighs. “It’s like that with my inventions. Not everything I create will be for everyone. But for those whom I have made something for, I want the invention to touch them deeply, affect them, change them from the inside out.”
“So profound.”
“Thank you.”
The music stops. Abruptly I might add. There really should have been more of a fading-out sort of thing instead of a quick halt.
I take a step back from Grayson, and he does the same. “I’ll be here for the week,” he explains.
“The week?”
He smiles shyly and pushes away a few strands of hair that have fallen into his eyes. They really are a gorgeous shade. “There are outings. That’s what I was told.”
Outings? Now is not the time to act like I have no idea what’s going on. “Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you, then.”
Without warning he takes my hand and bows, pressing his lips to my flesh while tipping up his gaze to me. “The pleasure,” he growls, “is all mine.”
A bolt of lightning sweeps down my back, nearly knocking me to the floor.
Holy cow.
I manage a smile as he releases my hand. With a nod and my heart thundering against my chest, I walk back into the throng of guests, searching for Chelsea.
Oh my gods! I can’t believe what Storm Grayson said to me!
I’m floating on a cloud. He wants to see more of me this week! He’s interested! Woo-hoo!
And best of all, he doesn’t know anything about me. He doesn’t know that I’m a magical?—
“Think you got yourself a man, don’t you, freak ?”
I stop and spin around.
There stands Chatty Cathy with Sadie and Cherie. This is my ball. Mine . Other witches are invited, of course. It would be rude not to have them come. But the event is held in my honor.
Unfortunately that’s not how the other witches always see it.
Cathy’s blonde hair is pinned up, and her face is pinched like she’s experiencing constipation pains.
“What did you say to me?” I snarl.
She jerks her head back toward the floor. “I said, good luck with Storm Grayson. Try not to influence him into falling in love with you, like you did with Devlin. It would be a shame if Storm found out about your little ability too soon.”
I am not going to be intimidated by this little tool. With my shoulders back and my spine straight, I cross over to her. The look of surprise in her eyes is almost soothing.
“If you tell Storm Grayson about me, do you know what he will think of you?”
“What?”
“That you’re a scheming gossip, and no man likes a gossip.”
She frowns. “ I like a gossip.”
What an idiot. “Then go ahead and tell him what I can do.” No, don’t! Don’t really tell him. “But if you do, he won’t be interested in you.”
She thinks about that. I can practically see her brain working behind her eyes. Cathy seems to decide that I might actually be right. “Fine. I won’t tell him…for now. But just so you know, I want him for myself.”
“Shocking.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. Obviously she wants him. Cathy might as well have the words GOLD DIGGER stamped on her forehead, she’s so obviously interested in him. “Well, good luck.”
I start to walk away, but her voice stops me. “Is that a challenge?”
The hairs on the back of my neck soldier to attention as I turn to face her. “A challenge?”
“Yes. Are you challenging me to seduce Storm Grayson?”
No. I want to say it, I really do, but I just can’t stand Cathy, and Storm asked me to dance with him, and we had chemistry. The sparks practically knocked me across the room! So against all my common sense, I say, “Yes, Cathy. May be the best witch win.”
Her eyes sparkle with malice. “You just sealed your doom, Thornrose.”
Oh, am I supposed to be intimidated because she called me by my last name? I’m not. “We’ll just see about that.”
She folds her arms and sneers. “By the time I’m finished with Storm, I’ll have him wrapped around my little finger and he won’t even remember your name.”
“Oh yeah?” I drop a hand to my hip. “Because by the time I’m finished with him, he’s going to be down on one knee, proposing.”
She laughs. “As if. You haven’t gotten anyone to marry you yet. You’ll never get him.”
Anger burns through me in big, long ropes. I want to grab Cathy by the hair and toss her into a mud pit. But in spite of that, all I say is, “You’re on. May the best woman win.”