Page 108 of Real Fake Hauntings

My hands contracted around his arms. “But Ian…”

“The shop is yours. You know it, I know it, we all know it. Soon, the Council will know it too.”

“But what if they don’t? What if the next person who comes looking for Bagley decides to kill you too?”

Leaning back, he shifted his arms until he was holding my face in one hand, his thumb stroking my cheek. The caress soothed my nerves, awoke my magic until it was tingling against his skin.

“If that happens, then we’ll deal with it like we’ve dealt with everything else.”

“But what if you die?” I insisted.

He pressed his mouth to mine in a fast kiss. “Then I die. We all must, at some point.”

“But I don’t want you to die!”

I don’t want to be alone again.

As if reading my thoughts, he smiled. “You won’t be alone. You’ve made a family here. Any of us could die to paranormal matters or get into a fatal accident on the way home. There is no controlling that.”

I knew he was right, but the stubborn part of me wanted to argue. “But you can avoid some dangers.”

He pressed a finger to my lips. “That’s for me to decide, not you. My life is my responsibility, not yours.”

I pouted against his finger. “Unfair.”

“Perhaps. But you can’t change a thing about that.” Leaning down, he gave me another kiss. Longer, deeper, the press of his body reminding me of how solid he was, that it was such a silly thing to let these fears control my life rather than acknowledge my fears being silly.

Wasn’t that what Ian had always done for me? He’d never lied to me when it mattered; he had been honest and realistic. Yes, my fears were not unfounded: like Grandma, he would one day die.

And if that were to happen before my time came, I’d carry his memory with me forever, as I did with Grandma’s. Memories I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

If I kept myself walled off, would I have any decent memory to hold on to? Wouldn’t I regret that I hadn’t been more adventurous and less scared?

For a witch who prided herself on finding the bright side of any situation, I had fumbled badly here.

Kissing him back, I whispered, “I’ll try.”

I felt a flash of a smug smile against my lips, then he was asking for entrance and taking the kiss into the land of scorching heat and melting lava. My body turned languid; my hands explored his back, relishing the play of muscles under his skin. Everything felt deeper, hotter, more thrilling now that my fears were out in the open, as if by vocalizing them, they had opened my soul to him. As if there had been a filter between us that had now been ripped open. As if I could allow myself to finally, really, feel.

A loud cough pulled us apart. I peeked over Ian’s shoulder to find Hutton looking pointedly away from us. He was breathing heavily, as if he’d run a long way.

“I see I’m not needed,” he said dryly.

I blinked at Ian. “You called him?”

Ian shrugged and rolled away from me and up to his feet. I tried to keep my gaze on his face and when I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I sat up and looked elsewhere.

“I assume the snotty mess is the witch?” Hutton asked, tossing Ian a pair of black jeans. “Pepper spray?”

I puffed out my chest and nodded regally. “Yup.”

“Good job,” Ian said with approval.

The sound of his zipper going up gave me permission to turn his way again, and I gave him a cheeky grin. “You inspired me.”

Hutton gave Ian his phone and keys. “Found them on the way too.”

The fact that Ian had shifted for me hit me all over again, and I grew teary-eyed once more. “You shifted.”

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