Page 52 of Bossed By The Boggart

“No, you’re not.”

I chuckle. “Guilty as charged. I guess you’ll need to distract me from my naughty thoughts.”

“How so?”

“Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

Wyn tucks a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear.

“Did you know I was raised on a reservation?”

“I did not.”

“Yep, Standing Rock. I grew up in Fort Yates, just north of the South and North Dakota border. My family is part of the Hú?kpapha tribe. My great-grandpa was one of the tribe elders.”

Although I’m fascinated and want to know more, the taste of Wyn’s pain is becoming unbearable.

“Deoring, we don’t have to speak of this if you don’t wish. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

She tries to smile, but her lips wobble. “You’re right. I only meant to share something about me, but it’s my fault. Any time I think of my past, it makes me sad. How about you? Tell me more about Boggarts.”

“I fear my past is much like your own—riddled in sorrow. Boggarts are characteristically cruel creatures with no regard for humans. To be the way I am and live in your world is offensive to my family.”

Wyn snorts. “Trust me, I understand completely. One of the reasons my parents shunned me is because I left the tribe and married a white woman—Jake’s other mom.”

“And where is she now, if I can ask.”

Something flickers across Wyn’s face, and her panic spikes the air before melting away.

The only sign of my sawolkeh’s distress is when she reaches for her water and it shakes in her hand.

But this woman is stronger than titanium. She recovers so quickly, I almost think I imagined her reaction.

“Gone. We divorced when Jake was still just a baby. She didn’t want him, and as you know, he’s my whole world. Everything worked out. How about you? Any hidden exes that I should know about?”

I shoot her a wry grin. “No. I…well, I prefer human women, and most find me terrifying—too terrifying to even contemplate going out with me.”

Wyn frowns. “Their loss, my gain, then.”

She reaches across the table to rest her hand over mine, and for the first time in my life, I feel wholly accepted.

We sit there in silence, staring at one another, my heart beating far too fast for being sedentary.

The waiter breaks up the moment again, coming over with our dinner.

Wyn withdraws her hand, and suddenly, I’m cold, utterly bereft of her touch.

She doesn’t seem as affected as me, and I try to cover my desperate need for any scrap of attention I can get from her to my dinner.

“This looks delectable!”

Steam rises from her lobster as she scoops out a piece of meat and dips it into a cup of melted butter.

“Mmmmm,” she moans, and I almost choke on my own bite.

We eat with gusto as we talk about more neutral topics like Jake and work.

When our meal is finished, the waiter comes back to ask if we want dessert.

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