Page 13 of Witch You Weren't Here

She was sure he wouldn’t, given the explicit invitations he’d been issuing last night. His crew had come over to talk to them, and she and Ilina hadn’t minded, but then Dean had gone from zero to a hundred with no encouragement, and they’d needed to beat a hasty retreat before Kay’s magic reacted. ‘No. Thanks. I’ve still got to sort out what I’m doing between now and my flight.’

‘When’s yours? Ours is in the morning now, so we figured we’d make the most of it. Managed to get a suite here. It was one of the last ones, but Paddy talked them into it …’ He rolled his eyes with a grin. Obviously, that was classic Paddy. Bully for him.

None of them were witches as far as Kay could tell. It wasn’t as easy to figure it out as one might have thought. You couldn’t just go up and ask someone if you suspected – that might earn you a trip to a psychologist or a slap to the face if you were wrong. In some countries, witches used a little sign – Ilina had a rune pattern tattooed on her inner wrist – but British witches were far too old-fashioned and secretive for anything subtly inclusive like that.

‘There’s space in the suite for you too, if you need it.’ Dean wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She struggled not to wrinkle her nose. Did he really think a woman on her own was going to feel comfortable going back to a hotel suite with four male strangers? ‘Er, well, that’s kind, but I’ll let you know.’

He pulled out his phone. ‘Give me your number and I’ll text you mine.’

‘Don’t I have your card from last night?’ she deflected.

‘No. I don’t think so …’ he cocked his head, as though trying to remember.

‘I’m sure I do—’

‘Well, just to make certain you don’t get stranded, why don’t you give me yours.’

‘I don’t have any business cards on me.’ She shrugged, all the while internally screaming, please, someone, anyone, get him to take a hint.

‘Not your card, your number.’ He rolled his eyes with a smile again. Clearly, she was being classic Kay now. ‘I’ll worry about you otherwise. It’s going to be a nightmare finding somewhere to stay, you know. You don’t want to end up sleeping on one of those plastic chairs, do you?’

Kay took a deep breath, preparing herself to tell him to push off in the politest way possible, when a voice spoke up from the other side of her. And this one was husky and gentle.

‘This is a nice surprise, again.’

She turned to look at Harry, who was standing with his big coat undone, one side pushed back past his hip so he could put his hand in his trouser pockets, and a half-pint of Pilsner in the other hand which had barely an inch left at the bottom.

So. It probably had been him when she’d seen those flashes of blue earlier. One brief meeting in Old Town Square and her subconscious had dialled up her Harry-proximity-alert to obsessed teen sensitivity levels again.

She bit her lip, realising that how she responded here would determine whether she could shake off Dean – with his dubious protestations of worry about her – or not. She should have known better than to make that silent plea for help dealing with him, even in her head. Of course the person who would turn up would be the last one she would want to see. The last one she wanted to feel grateful towards.

Well, it was happening now, so the quicker she could get Dean to shove off, the quicker she could go back to ignoring Harry, too.

‘Hey, Harry. Sorry I had to dash off so quickly earlier.’ She forced a smile. ‘Clearly it didn’t get me very far.’

Harry’s reddish-brown eyebrows drew together, making little lines appear in his faintly freckled skin, as his gaze lingered on her face for a moment, taking the time to study her.

She remembered this look. It could make you feel as though you were the most important person in the world to him at that particular moment. And then if he smiled … Kay’s belly flipped over as her mind supplied the memory of how it could magnify all that intensity even further. Lopsided and wide and seemingly adorable. But this time it was just the corner of his mouth that ticked up, as though he couldn’t quite muster the impetus. Which was fine. She didn’t want to see his manipulatively lovely smile anyway.

‘Have you got some time to catch up properly now?’ he asked. ‘Maybe grab something to eat? It’s been a long time, and twice in one day seems like the universe trying to tell us something.’

She almost snorted at that. If the universe was trying to tell her anything, it was that she should never have come to Prague. She didn’t know what god she had angered at the beginning of this year, but she had obviously done a thorough job.

‘I thought you needed to sort out somewhere to stay?’ Dean asked, wedging himself back into the conversation.

‘Yes. I do.’ She glanced over at him, but found her attention dragged – against her will – back to Harry, as though, if she didn’t keep looking at him, she’d find that she’d been imagining it all.

‘I have a place. It has a sofa bed. I’ll take that and you can have the bedroom,’ Harry immediately offered.

Of course he had a place. Sometimes they’d talked about the destinations they wanted to travel to and it looked like the job he’d walked into with his dad’s company had given him that opportunity, with a generous enough salary to afford special-edition trainers and ostentatious coats. As well as being the head of one of the oldest witching families, Adrian Ashworth was the CEO for a very large marketing company. He had to find the money to keep Ashworth Hall running in its accustomed splendour somehow, and he’d had very clear plans for how Harry would play his part in upholding that.

She tapped a fingernail against the table. This had taken a turn she hadn’t anticipated. Apparently she’d attempted to dodge the lava flow of a volcano by taking refuge in Satan’s favourite torture chamber. ‘Oh, that’s—’

‘Remember we’ve got that suite I offered,’ Dean jumped in.

‘I know, but—’

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