Page 4 of The Witch is Back

Cut to her holding her chin up against the catty mothers and their daughters who talked behind their hands of “poor Emmaline.” Too boring to keep a man like Bastian, a society prince, even with a contract in place. And that wasn’t even taking into account her own mother’s icy condemnation when she’d learned Bastian had left.

You can’t do anything right.

She hadn’t seen him since. Nobody had.

And now he was here. Standing on the other side of the bar, his expression easing from smiling to quizzical at her continued silence.

She needed to say something. What did you say to a prodigal ex-fiancé? Hint: two words, seven letters. Starts with F and Y.

“You’re bleeding.” Bastian’s voice made her jerk. A frown almost made its way onto his brow before it lost momentum. She wasn’t surprised. Frown lines indicated someone with the capacity to be serious. Bastian had never worried a day in his life. That used to be what she’d adored about him, when her own life was pinned together with so many screws and thumbtacks that could bust at any second.

Emma glanced at the small cut at the base of her thumb. Blood welled, enough that it would need to be cleaned. She could heal it with a few words, but not in front of the humans. She’d had to adapt to human ways, so she did have a first aid kit. It was in her office.

She’d have to take him there—away from the bar where Leah would bounce out at any moment. She just couldn’t deal with questions right now.

She wet her lips, took a moment to concentrate on the words. “We can talk in—in my office.”

“Sure,” he said with easy confidence. The spotlights caught darker blond highlights in his hair as he moved with inherent grace.

She glanced around, hesitating when she realized she’d be leaving the bar unmanned. But while practicality was nestled in her DNA, this was a catastrophe in the making. She slid her cell from under the bar, keeping a wary eye on Bastian like she would a vicious dog, and messaged Leah a quick bathroom break text. Leah, like most humans, was glued to her cell, so she’d pick up the message.

Keeping her hand elevated, Emma jerked her chin and turned. She could sense Bastian follow, as if her body was still attuned to his.

They didn’t speak as she led him at a fast clip down the hall and into the office. As soon as she stepped foot through the doorway, Chester barked once and spun in a delirious circle before losing his balance and falling with a grunt. He was up again in a second and dashed over to her legs, where he leaned his small bulk against her calves. Small pops of joy flooded through their bond and with them, a spark of magic.

Grateful, she leaned to scratch him behind his ears. At least she had him in her corner.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” came the butterscotch tones behind her. “But there’s some kind of small beast on your leg.”

If only she’d taught Chester to attack. “He’s my dog.”

She straightened, turned enough to see doubt flicker in his face. “Are you sure?”

Her jaw tightened. Any words she longed to say would have suffered because of it, so she just gave Chester another stroke.

“What breed is he?” Bastian eyed him. “Or species, should I say? Is he part warthog? Pygmy goat?” Chester trotted over, sniffing the air around Bastian’s calves before plopping his butt on the carpet. His tongue lolled out his mouth and his tail began to buff the floor. Bastian gave a short laugh and bent to pet him. “Odd-looking thing.”

“Sorry my dog doesn’t live up to your standards,” she managed, pleased that the tone was tart enough to be served with vanilla ice cream.

Surprise replaced the doubt. Little wonder, since the girl he remembered would’ve never dared reproach him. He smiled, inviting her to share it. She still couldn’t see it in his eyes and wondered at the absence. “I was joking.”

“Mmm.” It was the most she could manage. It was easier when she didn’t look at him. “He’s part basset, part terrier, maybe part bloodhound. Nobody really knows.” And she couldn’t care less. Appearances were less than nothing to her.

“You didn’t want to pick just one?” She could hear his grin, the one he’d always worn, in his voice.

For once she was immune. She wasn’t about to swoon over somebody who insulted her dog. Chester was chunkily built and short, his nose was too big and his ears too long, and nobody would pick him to be in a beauty pageant. But he was adorable and he loved her. No matter if she sometimes couldn’t get her words out or read too much or preferred to sit at home on Saturday nights writing in her journal about the trips she and Sloane planned to take. Chester loved her anyway.

Chester wriggled and panted and flopped onto his back, crooning his delight as Bastian obliged with a stomach rub. She gave both males a dark glance. Unfortunately, Chester sometimes loved indiscriminately.

“Yes, you’re a good boy.” Bastian lifted a hand and a dog treat appeared. “Do you mind?”

Chester spotted the treat and froze for a heartbeat before he scrambled up and planted his butt on the floor in a sit. Even so, his rump wiggled so much, he was practically vibrating.

Emma sighed. As if she could say no now. She nodded.

Bastian held the treat out. Chester quivered and looked at her.

She couldn’t help the smile. “Yes,” she said quietly.

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