CHAPTER ELEVEN #3
Somewhere near my feet, Gin lets out a low warning growl, probably at Brody, but I can barely process anything beyond Elliot’s body pressed against mine and the way his thumb keeps stroking slow circles over my waist.
The charged magic beneath my skin doesn’t feel wild anymore.
It feels warm, responsive. Like it’s reaching for him.
My eyes flutter shut as he nips lightly at my collarbone.
Sweet goddess, if he lets go right now, I might genuinely collapse into a puddle. Let my water magic just transform me now.
“Catherine? Catherine Prescott?”
Cold dread washes through me as Elliot pulls back at the sound of Brody’s voice. I grip his shirt tighter, willing my hands to stop trembling.
I am a grown-ass adult. Why am I shaking like a leaf?
Elliot turns, drawing me tighter against his side as he faces Brody. Half of me wants to cower behind him; the other wants to turn around, get in my car, and order delivery for the rest of the summer.
“Can I help you?” Elliots asks, his voice cool and clipped.
Brody grins, his eyes never leaving me as he lets out a low whistle, his gaze trailing down my body. I grit my teeth, shivering as a wave of nausea hits me while he eyeballs me like a prize pig.
“I’m not going to repeat myself again. Can I help you? If not, you can move along and leave me and my girlfriend alone.”
His fingers press into my hip, and every coherent thought evaporates.
Clearly I misheard him call me his girlfriend.
Brody shakes his head, sizing up Elliot before tucking his hands in his pockets and leaning back.
“I just didn’t think I’d see little Miss Cat back in town again. And not quite so… grown up.”
“It’s Catherine, not Cat. And I’m just here for the su—” I start, feeling the need to lay the groundwork that I wasn’t here long term and he shouldn’t come sniffing around.
“We’re a little busy here, and if there isn’t anything I can do for you, then you can move right along,” Elliot interrupts before tugging me back into his arms and kissing me with a ferocity that makes me toes curl and, for a brief moment, lets me forget about everything—Brody, the job, the summer, everything except him.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, he pulls back.
“He’s gone now,” Elliot says casually.
Meanwhile, I’m fighting for my life trying to remember how oxygen works.
He smooths a hand down the front of his shirt like he hadn’t just kissed me senseless in broad daylight. My lips part uselessly.
Flecks of gold shimmer in his dark brown eyes as they settle on me.
Is he affected by this too?
Or am I the only one seconds away from spontaneously combusting?
“Thank you,” I manage, dragging trembling fingers through my hair and smoothing down my sundress.
“You’re welcome.” His gaze lingers on my mouth for one dangerous second too long. “Come over for dinner tonight. Six o’clock.”
My brain stalls.
“What?”
“We’ll eat, swim, practice your water magic.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I have an idea that may help.”
Swimming.
Immediate panic replaces the heat in my chest.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
Magic lessons were one thing. Elliot already knew I struggled with my powers.
But swimming?
Even after growing up spending summers in Crescent Cove, I still can’t swim.
Humiliating doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“Elliot, I can’t just come over for dinner,” I sputter. “And that doesn’t even sound like a favor for you. It sounds suspiciously beneficial for me. I’m starting to think you fundamentally misunderstand the concept.”
A grin flashes across his face, bright and devastating.
“Are you backing out after I heroically rescued you from your terrifying ex-boyfriend?”
“He’s not my ex-boyfriend.”
“Mhm. The sexual tension said otherwise.”
“There was no sexual tension. There was attempted emotional warfare.”
“Ah.” He nods solemnly. “My mistake.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
His grin widens.
“Besides,” he continues, leaning closer, “do you really want to deny me your company? That’s cold, Wren.”
“I’m not denying—”
“Afraid of my cooking?” he interrupts dramatically. “I make a wicked peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
I snort despite myself.
“There it is,” he murmurs, looking entirely too pleased. “I was wondering where your smile went.”
Damn him.
“Fine.” I sigh, shaking my head. “I’ll come to dinner. But no swimming.”
“The pool’s heated.”
“I said no swimming.”
“It’s an infinity pool.”
“I don’t care.”
“Swimming is nonnegotiable.”
I stare at him.
He stares right back, completely unbothered.
Infuriatingly handsome. Smug. Confident.
And somehow already certain I’ll say yes.
“Fine. Your house at six. What should I bring?”
He steps closer again, close enough that my pulse jumps.
“Just yourself,” he replies quietly.
His gaze drifts slowly down my body before lifting back to my eyes.
“And your swimsuit.”
Then, with the confidence of a man fully aware he’s wrecked my entire nervous system, he turns and walks down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets.
I gape after him in disbelief.
Gin whines happily beside me.
“What,” I mutter to the traitorous dog, “just happened?”