Page 32 of Witch You Weren't Here

She supposed she’d been trying her best not to notice anything about him if she could help it.

‘I have an unsettling sense of déjà vu,’ she said drily. ‘Flights grounded. Stuck at the airport. You, about to comfort-eat your way to a coronary.’

‘Ha.’ The smile he gave to that showed a little bit more genuine amusement and she felt a disconcerting sense of achievement about it. Then he proceeded to pick up what looked like a pecan lattice, fold it in half and insert the entire thing into his mouth.

Kay’s jaw dropped open, as he chewed and swallowed, shutting his eyes and uttering groans of pleasure. It shouldn’t have been attractive, but the blissful look on his face, coupled with the attention it brought to his mouth, and the following swipes of his tongue along his lips which glistened with maple syrup, were practically pornographic.

He sighed, then finally opened his eyes and fastened them on her. ‘I know, it’s terrible for me, but sweet solstice, that does feel better. Here, go on, try it. Just blast your senses with something delicious and decadent.’

He gestured to her with the box, and she shook her head, but it was a gentle admonishment rather than a refusal and she still looked inside. There was an apple turnover, covered in crystallised sugar, golden and crisp, and frankly, after the kind of day – morning? – she’d already had, it did seem a lot more appealing than her granola. As she scooped it out, she caught another genuine smile on Harry’s lips and couldn’t keep the corners of her own mouth down.

‘I’m not going to shove it in whole, though.’

‘Of course not. Slow savouring is more your style, right?’ Even as he finished asking the question, a blush touched his high cheekbones. What was he thinking about? Was it the same memory that had just popped into her mind? Them, sharing the last of an apple crumble, straight from the dish, leaning on their elbows to face each other across the island in her mother’s kitchen? The way he’d shovelled in a massive scoopful to his mouth and then topped it with whipped cream straight from the can, making her laugh, while she’d taken teaspoonfuls, barely able to eat because of all the butterflies in her stomach.

Kay quickly averted her gaze, blinking the image away and sitting down to take a big bite of the pastry to avoid having to reply. There was a lot more cinnamon in it compared to the apple turnovers back home and, frankly, it was lovely. Cosy and warming her up inside.

She finished chewing her mouthful and put the pastry on the napkin next to her latte and usurped granola. Harry was still standing, watching her. ‘Thank you, that is delicious.’ She poked her tongue out of her mouth, checking for sugar. ‘So, what’s your plan?’

His gaze darted up to her eyes from her mouth and he scratched his nose. ‘I’m afraid Dean disappeared off the plane too fast for me to catch him.’

‘Oh, I didn’t mean that. I was talking about your plan now we’re not going to make it to Paris?’

All the humour disappeared from his face, and he folded the lid closed on the box and placed it on the table, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘Basically, whatever mode of transport will get me moving as quickly as possible towards England.’

Kay frowned – he truly did sound more desperate to get home than her. His family was all about tradition, hosting all the seasonal celebrations and spearheading the community, but surely they’d understand why he couldn’t make it when there was a hurricane blocking all paths home?

Then again, she remembered the pressure his dad had always put on him. The days when he’d come over to their house, looking flattened and drained after debating his university choices once again or because they’d had a dinner with some representatives from the Witches Council. She supposed those pressures didn’t vanish just because you were an adult and technically didn’t have to listen anymore. Especially when you were an Ashworth.

‘What about you?’ he asked.

‘I’m looking into my options.’ That sounded so vague and pathetic, she found herself elaborating the last-resort offer Ilina had sent her in the latest one of her texts. ‘I have a friend who lives in Berlin who I can go to stay with until the flights are taking off again, but it’s not exactly around the corner.’

‘No, it’s not. And Berlin’s in the opposite direction to home,’ he said slowly, like he was unsure what he could and couldn’t say, or why she was even entertaining this discussion with him. And, honestly, she wasn’t sure herself, except that it seemed deliberately rude to ignore the fact they were both stranded, trying to get home to the same place.

As if reassured by the momentary lowering of her guard, he moved his holdall to the floor and settled on the chair beside her. A faint waft of his spicy aftershave reached her – enough to make her remember how the smell had made everything inside her go hazy when they’d been pressed together in the toilet of the aeroplane.

She cleared her throat. ‘Very true. It’s four and a half hours in the opposite direction by train, to be exact. But there’s no hurricane there currently, and no handy sex-pad for me to stay in around here,’ she pointed out ruefully and he gave a bark of laugher.

‘So …’ He paused, seemingly in the middle of something he was going to say. ‘Hang on. Where’s your suitcase?’

‘Damned if I know.’ She shrugged. ‘It didn’t make it off the plane. Or even onto it maybe? Either way, it’s lost somewhere. I’ve filed a report.’ She could have pointed out that his lightening spell probably hadn’t helped it stay where it should, but he looked so concerned, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

‘Oh crap.’ Harry frowned. ‘Was there anything special in there? Other than the skulls, of course.’

Kay laughed and Harry’s smile grew at the sound. She bit her lip and shook her head. What was happening? She was letting herself get drawn into their old rhythm. She might not want to keep dragging out her past hurt and stropping off like a teenager, but she shouldn’t let herself forget. She could talk to him amicably from her side of the wall, but it was nowhere near time to start removing bricks.

‘I know someone,’ he offered as she looked away to fiddle with a napkin. ‘When we’re back in England. If your case hasn’t turned up by then. She could help.’

‘She works at the airline?’

‘Er, no. But she’s very good at tracking things down. You remember my cousin, Becca?’

‘Oh, right.’ Kay nodded. ‘I forgot that your family has a history of that kind of gift from Biddi. Before it got lost to influencers.’

‘I wouldn’t say it got lost to influencers. Many of us still have a touch of that gift too.’

Kay felt her eyebrows lift so high that her glasses shifted down her nose a little. ‘Do you?’

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