Page 58 of The Witch is Back

“I’m fun, goddammit.” She was getting tired of everyone saying how serious she was.

Leah patted her shoulder. “Yes, you are. Under planned, controlled circumstances.” She grinned at Emma’s scowl. “How long should the truth thing last then?”

“Six hours at most, depending how much she gave him.”

“He’ll sleep it off. But I haven’t had a chance to ask—”

“No.”

“Buzzkill.”

“He has a right to his secrets. Would you want someone to truth potion you?”

“All’s fair in love and witchcraft.”

“You’re all nuts. I’m going home.” Emma walked over, grabbed her coat.

Leah appeared next to her. “You should at least ask him how he feels about you, beyond the trust thing.”

“Not you, too.” Emma enunciated the next part for both of them. “We’re not even friends, let alone anything else.”

She may as well have been trying to sell her friends land in Florida for a bargain; they looked that unconvinced.

It played on her mind as she collected Bastian and nudged him out of the bar. The cold night air soaked into her exposed skin as she made them walk the blocks home, figuring it couldn’t hurt him. Or her, since three cosmos was more than her usual amount. Practical Emma again, she thought with a grimace.

He kept trying to open portals, but considering his loosened state of mind, she didn’t want to chance them ending up on some kind of dig site in the middle of a crowd. To her dismay, he found it amusing when she kept closing them, and they fought a strange kind of tug-of-war over the portals all the way home.

By the time Chester greeted them, she was worn out. Bastian was a lot stronger magically than she was and going up against his will was like arm wrestling with a heavyweight boxer.

She dropped her keys, greeted her dog, and hesitated by the couch. Would he need help getting to bed? Should she let him have hers when he was this gone?

Bed and Bastian were two words that didn’t belong in the same sentence, she decided uneasily.

He didn’t seem to share her worries as he dropped onto the couch. He sprawled, six feet whatever inches of solid beautiful male. All he was missing was a beckoning finger.

She turned and walked in the opposite direction. “Want some water?”

“Sure. I can get it.”

She swiveled, put out her hands as she would to traffic. “No. I got it.”

“I’ll help.” He’d pushed to his feet and was already ambling over. He’d left his sweater behind, and his beautifully defined arms were clearly displayed by his T-shirt.

“You’ll help me get water from the fridge?”

He dimpled at her. “I’m here to make your life easier.”

“Riiight.” She elongated the word, then waved at the fridge. “Go for it.”

“Have I said thanks for everything you’re doing?” He stepped forward.

Why was he so close?

Duh. The fridge was behind her.

Emma scuttled out of the way, bracing her back against the breakfast bar as he brushed past her to open the fridge door and grab a bottle. “You’ve said thank you.”

“I mean it.” He closed the door, holding the bottle by its neck. “It’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

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