Page 61 of De-Witched

Leah let her shoulder lift and fall, helpless. “He’s got me, Emma.”

“Even though there can’t be any future?”

A direct hit. And still, despite that... “Yeah.”

“Tia’s going to kill us both.” Emma’s voice was mournful. “I thought you hated him.”

“There’s a thin line between attraction and hate and apparently that line is a dog leash. He told me he was going to help save my place, Em. He stood there, all dark and unsmiling and told me he was going to help save my place.”

Emma sighed. “I’m surprised you didn’t just throw yourself at him.”

Truthfully, so was Leah.

Gabriel stared at the dog.

Chuck stared back.

“I’m not throwing that thing,” he informed the Labrador. The grotty chewed-up tennis ball had been spat at his feet after Chuck had ignored all Gabriel’s attempts at recall and dug up the ball instead.

Chuck’s tail swept across the yard, back and forth through the dirt.

Gabriel firmed his jaw and his resolve. “I’d probably get a human disease from touching it.”

Brown eyes peered at him, full of love.

“It’s not playtime. We’re here to work.” Not that any training seemed to be getting through Chuck’s unbelievably thick brain. “Now I want you to sit here, sit, and I’m going over there.” So saying, Gabriel walked a short distance away. When he turned around, Chuck stopped obediently at his feet and spat the ball out again.

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was it his lot in this city to be surrounded by willful individuals, animal or human?

“You’ll find I’m more stubborn than you,” he told the dog. “I’ve had to be.” If he was any less stubborn, he wouldn’t be on tenterhooks, waiting for his uncle’s PA to make a surprise appearance. He’d have thrown in the towel.

Chuck edged forward, plopped his butt on the floor. He pushed his big head under Gabriel’s palm. Gabriel stroked the soft fur absently, mind turning to the more immediate problem.

In a word: Leah.

A few days had passed and neither of them had brought up the almost-kiss—that, or the display of magic he knew she’d seen. Now they both knew she knew. That truth was a heavy weight between them whenever they were in the same room. So, like any mature male, he’d made a point to avoid her as much as he could.

What was there to say?

Better that they play pretend, he thought with a grimace. That Leah wasn’t a grenade with the pin half-pulled.

Even that wasn’t enough to stop the what ifs from plaguing him.

What if he hadn’t manifested magic?

What if he’d kissed her?

“She’s trouble,” he said, the words snatched by the breeze.

Chuck snuffled his leg, leaving a trail of slobber on the jeans he’d finally broken down and worn.

He didn’t have the heart to chastise the dog. Instead, he conjured a large biscuit, barely registering the feedback as it shocked his blood, and spent a painstaking five minutes convincing Chuck to lie down.

When the dog finally rolled to his back with his legs crooked in the air, the victory Gabriel felt was unmatched. He tossed the biscuit high in the air and watched with amusement as Chuck gained his paws and leaped, teeth snapping.

“We’ll get there,” Gabriel told him, ridiculously proud, and slapped his thigh. “Come, Chuck. Heel.”

He walked into the shelter with the dog glued to his hip. Then Chuck bolted, his body slamming Gabriel’s legs so hard he had to slap a hand against the wall for balance.

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