Page 54 of The Witch is Back

Bastian conjured an umbrella, held it up above her.

“Too late to play the gentleman,” she told him. “I’ve seen it all now.”

He held open the door to Cesario’s, letting her pass, but catching her when she drew abreast of him. “Not yet, but would you like to?”

The laugh bubbled up and she shook her head. He was a bad influence.

“There you are!” Tia’s voice interrupted, surprising enough to shake Emma free of Bastian’s warm gaze. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

She swung her head around and spotted her friend standing at a table for four. Leah sat next to her, a resigned expression on her face.

CHAPTER 11

“Did I ever tell you,” Bastian said, his words joined like children linking hands, “that I like the color blue? In fact,” he went on, with the air of someone imparting something truly interesting, “it’s my favorite color. And Emma’s is yellow.”

Emma shared a look with Leah, who’d foregone another drink in favor of chocolate chip cookies, citing her day-long hangover from the last batch of Cauldron cosmos. Her friend hid a grin behind another bite.

Tia snorted from her position, sitting on the far end of the bar, back to the wall. “Should’ve put money on it.” She tipped her empty martini glass to Emma. “To the reigning champ.”

Bastian did a double take, put an offended hand to his chest. “’Scuse me? I’m still in this. I can hold my drink. I’m strong. I can hold anything. Boxes. Suitcases. One time, I held a whole mummy sarcophagus by myself.” He leaned in, cupped a hand around his mouth as if to shield it from Leah, and loud-whispered, “I might have used some magic, though.”

Emma couldn’t help but be charmed. After a long, excruciating dinner, during which Tia had jumped on everything Bastian said, her friend had then ushered them all into Toil and Trouble for some after-dinner drinks. She should’ve known a competition would’ve blossomed; Bastian had never turned down a challenge and Tia knew Emma could drink anyone under the table. Her uncharacteristic party trick that always amused. And now, the poor guy was what she could only term drunk off his spectacular ass.

Whoops. Edit that to remove “spectacular.” Clearly, she’d been affected by the drinks, too. Clearly.

Still, she’d thought Bastian would hold out longer than two Cauldron cosmos and two Broomstick Bellinis. He’d complained at first that the drinks were too sweet, but that hadn’t stopped him from throwing them back, even when Tia had supposedly made the last batch stronger.

The drinks seemed to have unlocked his mouth, and he wouldn’t stop telling them all “little-known facts.”

It was charming, damn it. She’d never really seen him less than put-together, even when he was pleading for his mom or apologizing to her. He’d been a little rumpled, maybe, but rumpled in a way that only emphasized his perfection.

Sprawled on a bar stool that would have wobbled over if Emma hadn’t kept correcting it with what little telekinesis she had, he was sloppy and rambling. His hair was in disarray from him repeatedly pushing his hands through it, and he’d taken off the sweater half an hour ago, complaining it was too hot. Every time he waved his arms around—which happened when he thought of something new to tell them—the muscles in his arms flexed and her magic pulsed inside her. Along with certain other things that would remain nameless.

Leah grinned. “Magic, Bastian? Whatever do you mean?”

Emma shot her a warning look. Just because he was somewhat worse for wear didn’t mean they should play this game. She didn’t know this Bastian, didn’t know if he’d turn her friend in. Or demand they erase her memory. Leah’s life was too big a risk to pin on a maybe.

His mouth made a lopsided smile. “I used to dabble.”

Uh-huh. That might have been treating the truth as an elastic band he could stretch, but she supposed technically it was the truth.

“And you know what else?” He flicked a hand and a coin appeared, weaving around his fingers in a trick no magician could do.

How much had he drunk? Or how low was his tolerance?

And still, she had to be impressed with the amount of control he had over the coin even while three sheets—make that six—to the wind. Telekinesis was a skill and only the most powerful could manipulate objects with precision. Not like her balancing the stool with broad sweeps.

Just another example of their incompatibility.

The depressing thought swaddled her like a baby.

Leah made appropriate ooh and ahh noises.

Bastian grinned, made the coin disappear. “I still practice,” he said, lifting his glass to his lips. He stared at it when he came to the baffling realization it was empty. “There’s a lot of pressure. To be perfect.”

Emma straightened.

From across the room, Tia scoffed. “And here I thought it just came naturally to you,” she drawled.

---