Page 51 of De-Witched

She nodded. “I have two cats as well.”

“You didn’t think to bring them?”

She recognized the dry thread of humor, matched it. “Next time.”

He watched the small cavalier snuggle into her leg. “You like caring for things.”

“I’ve had lots of practice.”

His eyes met hers. Something rippled between them, catching in her chest.

A crash sounded from behind the breakfast bar and she reacted on instinct, bursting upward and hurtling across the kitchen. “Delilah,” she reprimanded. “No!”

Having followed her around the counter, Gabriel stared at the recycling littering the floor. “I see why she was surrendered.”

“Ha. Ha.” Leah shooed the little dog and bent to clean up. Gabriel stooped to help.

“I thought we’d have dinner first,” he said, offhandedly.

The can she’d picked up slipped free, bounced and rolled away. She went after it, praying for some sense. Not a date, Leah. “Cool. I could eat.”

He righted the recycling bin. “I thought we’d order in.”

“You don’t like to cook?” She glanced at the twelve toasters. “Kinda seems like you have a thing for toast, at least.”

“Those are defective.”

A detail caught her eye. Huh. “You know you have to plug them in.”

He stopped what he was doing. “Excuse me?”

She gestured. “The toasters.”

Seconds passed before he answered, a hint of chagrin entering his voice. “Of course I know.”

Leah tossed the last can into the bin and hid her amusement. “How can you not know about how toasters work?”

Did witches and warlocks use magic for all their cooking? It seemed a bit lazy.

He paused, tipping his head to the side, a sudden intense look making her go still. He was looking at her like...she should know why. Which, of course, she did—but did he?

The question of the week.

She gave them both an out, far from ready to broach the subject. “Poor little rich boy?”

His slight huff of humor eased the tension. “Something like that.” He held out his hand to help her up.

She met his gaze as she gripped it. Stupid to feel breathless, stupid that his skin sliding over hers made her think dark, sweaty thoughts.

His jaw flexed as he exerted pressure, bringing her up to him.

Her throat felt thick. She stood, still holding his hand.

It held for three seconds. Five.

“I couldn’t take it any longer.”

Their hands jerked apart at the interruption, both lurching back, Gabriel into the breakfast bar, Leah slamming into the cupboards. Her cheeks were steaming as she tore her gaze from Gabriel to the source of the interruption.

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