Chapter 6
Valerie
I was going to get fired in a tropical paradise, in front of a man who’d probably turn the day into a paid company holiday.
A bead of sweat slid down my spine. The board waited, Grant watched, and my life flashed before my eyes in a cliché montage accompanied by a sad trombone.
Then Grant shifted, his hand closing over my arm.
Ice shot through me as if I'd fallen into a frozen lake, the shock stealing my breath.
My magic flared hot in my veins, nerves prickling as heat collided with cold.
It pooled in my chest, tingled down my fingertips, then spilled into the air with a shimmer that frosted before melting into steam.
At the bar, a cocktail glass rattled, sloshing neon liquid over the edge. The bartender grabbed for it at the exact moment the lifeguard did, their hands meeting. Neither moved. They just stood there, still touching, sharing a look that seemed to slow time.
A warm gust swept through the pavilion, shaking loose a shower of hibiscus petals from an arrangement overhead.
They swirled lazily through the air, settling in her hair like giant snowflakes.
The bartender’s mouth curved. Slowly, he plucked one petal free, his knuckles grazing her temple before tucking a stray strand behind her ear.
She smiled softly, then laughed at whatever he said next.
When he handed her his phone, she hesitated just long enough to make the board lean in. Then she tapped the screen, handed it back, and flushed pink all the way to her ears.
“That was wonderful,” my boss breathed, pressing a hand against her heart. “This is why Valerie will make an exceptional member of the new team you’re putting together. I’ll hate to lose her, but she’s destined for bigger things.”
My lips trembled, and I pressed them firm. I was rattled. No, I was way beyond that. Grant’s touch still sent icy coils up my arm, my own heat rushing to meet it, sparking and blending until it felt too good. I couldn’t fake that. Even as I faked a smile for the board, the edges brittle.
And that was the problem.
His magic. His touch had come to the rescue, and it just proved every smug thought Grant Delaney had ever had about me.
That I was all glitter and no substance.
That my perfection wasn’t cultivated, but filled with cracks.
That I was one bad match away from crashing out.
How was I supposed to solve the hardest cases when I couldn’t even cast a spell on an easy one?
He’d love this. He’d use it against me, not just with public digs and clever jokes, but privately, with those infuriatingly knowing looks.
“Let go,” I hissed under my breath, shaking his hand off my arm.
Grant’s head snapped toward me, our gazes locking. The last trace of his magic drained out of me, leaving me feeling hot, exposed, and angry.
Then his expression shuttered. He stepped back, slow and deliberate, as if putting distance between us had been his idea. His palm turned inward as he covered a yawn.
“They’ll be broken up in a week,” he drawled. “Who wants odds?”
Laughter rippled through the few agents who’d stopped to watch, and my stomach sank as our fragile truce dissolved.
It hadn’t been real, anyway. Grant had said it himself; he didn’t do deep. I might be fraying at the seams, doing everything I could to hold on to my faith in true love and magic. But at least I wasn’t shallow and emotionally clogged like him.
“Grant,” his grandfather scolded sharply. “Be professional and straighten your tie. You're a Delaney.”
The band chose that moment to go silent. His grandfather’s retort echoed off the pavilion beams like a record scratch. Every head turned. A banner unfurled from the ceiling, crackling in the silence, and a spotlight clicked on next to the microphone stand.
Perfect. It was showtime.
The board shifted uncomfortably, but I didn’t wait for the big announcement. Bending at the waist, I slipped out of my heels, then snatched up Grant’s discarded jacket and tossed it at him.
“Armor up for your promotion,” I ground out, striding past him toward the exit.
My feet sank into the cool sand as I left the pavilion. The sound of Grant’s grandfather taking up the microphone followed in my wake. It grew muffled the further I walked toward the beach, guided only by the moonlight and the few tiki torches planted in the sand.
My heart still hammered, the taste of humiliation sour on my tongue. And Grant? I didn’t know what was worse, the way my body craved another hit of his cold magic, or the way my brain wanted to grab a pitchfork and storm his hut at dawn.
Nobody ask my heart anything. It was a foolish organ that had dared, for a few measly seconds, to think our fake-it stunt was some secret language we could translate into something deeper. Something real.
I sucked in the salty air as if the sticky brine could seal all my cracks, but the exhale came too soon, followed by a laugh that seared my throat.
What a disaster! No more games. Tomorrow, I had to find that waterfall before my magic failed completely.
If that happened, I wouldn't just lose my shot at solving miracle cold cases, but my job at Sunbelt, too.
You'd find me standing on coffee shop corners, a sad ex-witch, shouting about the fall of love like I was ushering in the singles’ apocalypse.
“Valerie!”
Grant’s voice carried over the hiss of the tide. I ignored it and kept walking, letting the sand swallow my footsteps. He caught up to me in a few strides, keeping pace when I didn’t slow down. I shot him a look that could have forced a crab to scuttle into its shell.
“Go back inside. They’re announcing your promotion.”
“I saw my grandfather’s notes. His talking points will last half an hour.” Grant moved in front of me, forcing me to stop. “What was that back there?”
“Nothing—just the stark realization that playing nice in public wasn't worth it. Not when I owe you for that stunt you pulled.”
“You should owe me. I saved your job.” His jaw flexed. “Against my better judgment. You’ve been acting strange since you got here.”
“I have not. And I don’t need you to save me—from anything. Reserve your twisted hero complex for your one-and-done conquests.”
“Hero complex? I didn’t know you thought I had the drive. Have I almost joined the ranks of men who can meet your convoluted standards?”
I gritted my teeth. “You could rescue orphans from a snowstorm, and you’d still have a way to climb.”
Fire flashed in his eyes. “Such a lofty perch. Must be lonely up there by yourself.”
My throat tightened. That hit too close.
“I didn’t need your help. I was fine.”
“Admit it. Something is going on. You’re slipping. Your magic—”
“No!” The word tore out of me. I spun on my heel, heat scalding my neck. “I’m tired! You drain me. This—” I jabbed a finger between us. “Takes energy. Sick, dark energy. And my magic is supposed to be pure. Love is supposed to be pure. But every time I see you, it feels tainted.”
Grant’s jaw went rigid. He prowled into my space, his body a tower of tension. “You hate me that much?”
“You hate me more!” I snapped back at him.
The words landed like a physical blow that even his three-piece suit of armor couldn’t withstand. Grant’s mouth curled, not into a grin, but something darker and barely leashed.
“For so many reasons.” His chest rose on a heavy inhale. “I could never list them all.”
My pulse thudded in my ears, my breath coming too fast. His gaze held mine, freezing me in place, then the flecks of ice in his eyes flicked down to my mouth.
And trouble just landed in paradise.
I should have stepped back—maybe even sprinted for open water. Instead, I tilted my chin up like I was daring him.
I was.
“Try me.”
His hand twitched at his side as if he was stopping himself from reaching for me.
“Careful, Spells,” he said, his voice low enough to be dangerous. “My list would break your heart.”
He already had. Not all at once, but in tiny, precise cuts, across time and space.
And he was doing it again, right now, his fingers sliding up to catch my chin, rough enough to hold me still, not enough to hurt.
He saved his words for that. This was what we did.
We electrified the water and provoked each other to dip our toes in.
It was hot.
It was so wrong.
And it did break my heart.
His thumb grazed the corner of my mouth, making my stomach dip. The heat radiating off him bled through my dress, his jacket brushing my hip as he closed the last inches between us.
My pulse skittered. The scent of salt and winter spice clung to him. He was so close I could taste it on the air. My toes curled in the sand, desperate for something solid.
I was dizzy with that feeling, the kind where I was a second away from making a huge mistake—from tasting my enemy to see if it burned as much as it should.
My tongue swept across my dry lips.
Grant’s grip on my chin tightened. His breath jerked like he'd shocked himself.
Mine held.
My body, my brain, and my heart all clamored for attention. But something deeper answered.
If he kissed me, I wouldn’t stop him. I couldn’t. Wanting him was bad enough—wanting him this much was worse.
“Grant!”
The shout cracked the moment. His grandfather’s voice, sharp and cutting, carried from the pavilion.
Grant’s hand dropped instantly, leaving the skin under my chin burning like frostbite.
“You’re right,” he said, his words coated with gravel. “Whatever this is, it isn’t pure. It’s messy. It bursts all your picture-perfect bubbles, doesn’t it?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Good.”
He turned and walked away, taking the live wire with him as the water swirled around my toes.