Page 97 of The Witch is Back

“Fine. She said she’ll talk to Tamsin, help with some of the arrangements going forward.”

“Good. That’s good.” Tamsin seemed to have a natural sense of what the pair of them liked. She’d assured them that she’d take care of the minutiae, though she had convinced Emma to come back to try on the dress. Guess that was inevitable.

She opened the top drawer and selected some underwear, wishing they were more exotic than white cotton, like the lacy underwear she’d conjured before.

Hmm. With a murmured command, she lifted out a violet satin set and crossed to put them on the bed. Silly, really, considering she was going to a shelter and not on a fancy evening out.

She collected jeans and a T-shirt and then hovered by the bed.

Screw it. C’mon. Wild Emma, remember?

She dropped the towel, focused on the panties as her cheeks blazed. She reached out and drew them on, sliding them up her thighs as if she dressed in front of a man every day.

The bra was a front clasp and she adjusted herself properly before she felt like she could look up.

She almost took a step back at the desire pulsing on Bastian’s face.

“C’mere,” he commanded.

“No.”

“I think your strap is twisted.”

“No, that’s you.”

He clearly fought a grin, his eyes roving across her body. Now, though, she stood a little taller. What woman wouldn’t feel confident under such an approving gaze?

“I’ve thought of something we can try.” He patted the bed. “Beat it, Chester.”

“Chester, stay.”

The poor dog looked at her and then cocked his head, tongue lolling. Down their bond came the feeling of happiness. He was happy they were both here.

She blinked. Both?

No, she told him. Bastian wasn’t part of the pack. Sloane, maybe, but Bastian? No.

Chester sat up, scratched his ear. Very unconcerned.

She frowned.

“Don’t tell me you’re sick of me already,” Bastian joked.

Her eyes shot to him. Then she realized how silly she was being over a dog’s feelings. Chester loved everyone—the mailman was also part of the pack sometimes.

She brushed it off and refocused. “What can I say? Thanks for the ride.”

“Come here and say that.”

A shiver skimmed her skin at the huskiness of his voice. “I don’t have time. I’m volunteering at the shelter this afternoon.”

“The one Leah works at?”

She nodded, reached for her jeans and dragged them on. Hesitating, she then added, “It’s until five if you want to get dinner after?” Maybe he could meet Sloane before they left the shelter, and she could get it over with.

Wait, what?

Her heart thudded at the uncharacteristic thought. She wanted to keep them separate, remember? Uneasy, she rubbed her chest and clamped down on any runaway thoughts.

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