Page 27 of The Witch is Back

“I didn’t know you baked.” He tilted his head. “The goods on the counter—yours?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve got talent.”

“You tried them?”

He paused. “Well. I didn’t get a chance.”

So, like always, an empty compliment. Acid soured her stomach. She turned her back and got a cloth to wipe up the escaped frosting. As she concentrated, his gaze burned into her.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, and without his face to complicate matters, his voice was average. Really. It wasn’t masculine silk that teased her skin. She couldn’t have felt less affected. “Obviously, we agreed I’d move in.”

Something she was already regretting. “Yes.”

“But I think we should do more. I should do more.”

Appalled wasn’t a strong enough word for how she felt about that idea. “Why?”

Apparently she hadn’t disguised her feelings very well. His tone stiffened. “I know we said we’d lead separate lives, but there’ll inevitably be some function or some event or something that means we’ll be together. Let’s just say, I think it’ll make it easier on both of us if we’re on good terms.”

Her lips flattened. “You want it to be like it was before.”

He was silent. Then, “I’m not stupid. I know something is off.” He hesitated. “You know you could always tell me anything. If something else is going on.” A strange kind of urgency threaded through his words, an underlying meaning that made a small amount of sweat break out on Emma’s forehead. What did he know?

When she didn’t respond, his eyes hardened a second before he closed them. When they opened, all she saw was the usual aimless charm. “I know we’ve changed. That you don’t think of me that way anymore. And I’m sorry. I really am, Emma.”

He didn’t even know what he was sorry for. Anxiety forgotten, pinpricks of wrath dappled her body. She managed a nod. It was the best she could do.

“Maybe we won’t get to how we used to be. But I’d like to...start fresh. New. I’d like to know you.”

Emma steeled herself against the words. Bastian had always had a way with them. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to know him. She knew enough.

Even if he made sense. Even if it was practical.

Goddess damn it all.

“You want to spend time together. Here,” she clarified.

“I want the bartender job.”

Emma swayed back as if punched. Why don’t we have chairs in here? “It’s a human bar,” she stressed. “With humans.”

His eyebrows cocked. “I assumed.”

“You’d have to be nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

That was so patently untrue that a snort escaped her. He looked startled before his lips quirked.

“I like humans,” he offered. “I’ve had to be around them a lot. It’s surprisingly refreshing to be around people who don’t rely on magic.”

Shock punched her a second time, but she curled her hand around the counter before it could knock her out.

Mistaking her silence for refusal, he pushed harder. “I can learn all the skills if you don’t want to use magic. I’m pretty good with my hands.”

Not. Going. There.

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