Page 44 of De-Witched

“Peggy’s already dropped them off at day care,” she announced, as if he’d been waiting on the news or knew who Peggy was. “Which means I can go straight to the shelter. I keep some clothes there and it’d be easier than traveling across town. After coffee, of course. Who can function in the morning without coffee?” There was a slight edge to her voice as she peppered him with words.

Gabriel wanted her to take them back, wanted her to leave. To leave him alone, let him rebuild. He felt exposed. Weak. He had been weak.

It had been her apology that did it. And then, then it had been the unguarded moment when he’d seen past the sunny façade and glimpsed pain. He should have let her leave, wallow in that pain at home. But he’d spent too many nights alone with his own, and he’d reacted.

He’d listened to her talk about baseball, about her beloved Cubs, about how this year would be the year. He’d listened and learned and absorbed and he’d fallen asleep to the sound of the documentary she’d suggested they put on about the beautiful game.

And woken up with guilt a third bedfellow.

He’d always sworn that humans were dangerous, and here he was “hanging out” with them, talking with them. Wanting them.

Some part of him shook his head, knowing that wasn’t why he was pushing her away, but he was skilled at ignoring the things he didn’t want to face. So, Gabriel reverted to what he knew.

“This is becoming a bad habit,” he said briskly. He affected his society mask as he turned, linking his tight hands behind his back.

She ran her fingers through her hair, combing it as best she could. “Coffee?”

“Insisting on acting like we’re friends.”

The words hit like a curse. He saw it, how she absorbed them, flinching as the meaning penetrated. “You asked me to stay.”

“You wanted coffee and I was raised too well to turn someone out of the house.”

Her mouth dropped, ocean blue turning stormy. “Not then. When I was going to leave, you wanted me to stay.”

“If that’s how you want to remember it.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m going to change if you want to let yourself out.” He didn’t stop to watch her, but strode down the hall to his bedroom, firmly clicking the door behind him. He sank down, resting his forehead on it. Behind him, a lamp juddered, tipping off the bedside table. The magic squeezed his spine, but worse was that he’d not meant to do it.

“Get hold of yourself,” he muttered. He deliberately turned his back on the door to get dressed.

Leah didn’t waste time leaving his highness’ apartment, though she did move several things out of alignment before she went. Petty, yes. Satisfying, hell yes.

What a dick. She fumed as she rode the elevator down and Google mapped a coffee shop. Joanne’s was too far away and she wasn’t in the mood to hear someone wax on about how gorgeous Gabriel was. On the outside, maybe, but inside was a whole ’nother story—one with a dark and twisted ending.

Man, he was lucky she wasn’t a witch because she’d have telekinetically kicked him in the nuts for that performance.

“Insisting on acting like we’re friends,” she mocked, stomping in the direction of the closest L train station. “Like I have nothing better to do than pant after his warlock self. My coffee mug didn’t refill itself.”

She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for his BS again. What was that saying? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame I’m such a goddamned idiot.

Under the anger, hurt roiled but she didn’t want to focus on that, on the fact that she’d thought they were...bonding or some crap. That there may be more under the Higher warlock guise.

She nurtured her righteous anger throughout her journey and when she stepped off the train, walking the few blocks to the shelter, her resolution was firm. Whatever it was that attracted her to him, it was stopping right now. Even a dog learned its lesson after being kicked too many times. The next time she saw him, she would—

—stop in her tracks as he slid out of a cab that idled in front of the shelter.

Her lip curled, anger riding a fiery line down her body. Of course, he was too good for public transportation. And even if he’d told her he was headed to the shelter, too, she’d wanted coffee first. So she wouldn’t have said yes, even if he’d been courteous and goddamned asked. It wasn’t like they were friends, after all.

She hated how good he looked in a cashmere overcoat open over yet another stunning three-piece suit. He should look ridiculous, doing shelter work dressed like that, but he never did. Ass.

The cab drove off and their gazes met.

Play it cool, she reminded herself. She lifted the coffee as she crossed the street and took a bolstering sip. “Fancy meeting you here.”

The wind blew a lock of black hair across his forehead. It was the only thing about him that moved.

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