Page 18 of A Roar for Magic

“Going home now.”

“—and the way he looked at you? Like you hung the moon and stars just for him to admire. Though I noticed you weren’t exactly looking away when he shifted. Something fascinating about those tiger muscles, hmm?”

“That’s it. No more treats for a week.”

“Worth it,” Poe cackled, launching himself into the air. “Just wait until I tell Romi and Sabine about this.”

Clover groaned, already imagining their reactions. Between Sabine’s contract and Romi’s matchmaking tendencies, she’d never hear the end of it.

But as she made her way back to Spellbound Lights, she couldn’t quite banish the memory of Rook’s intense gaze or the way his power had called to hers during the fight. Her magic still hummed with awareness, responding to the lingering traces of his energy in the air.

The business proposition complicated everything. Working closely with him, developing scents and botanicals together... the thought sent equal parts excitement and nervous energy coursing through her. She could already imagine long hours in her workshop, testing combinations while he watched with those intent eyes. Him prowling nearby as she explained the subtle differences between lavender varieties. The way he’d probably lean too close, pretending to smell a test blend while actually...

“Oh no.” She pressed her hands to her warming cheeks. “Stop that right now.”

“Stop what?” Poe landed on her shoulder, radiating smugness. “Thinking about a certain tiger’s impressive... business proposals?”

“I’m thinking about the professional opportunities,” she insisted primly.

“Right. Professional. Like the way you professionally ogled his muscles during that fight?”

“I was assessing the tactical situation.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Clover shooed him off her shoulder, ignoring his cackling laughter as he flew ahead. But her traitorous mind kept circling back to the possibilities. The spa project could be amazing for both of her businesses. She’d been looking for ways to expand Weaver’s Botanicals’ reach, and this partnership could open incredible doors. The fact that it meant spending time with Rook was just... incidental.

Right.

Back at her shop, the afternoon sun caught her mood-matching candles, making their enchanted flames dance with shades of rose pink and golden amber. She pretended not to notice how perfectly they reflected the warmth blooming in her chest. Instead, she focused on straightening displays and checking inventory, steadfastly ignoring how her magic kept reaching out, searching for traces of tiger energy in the air.

“I am in so much trouble,” she muttered, reorganizing the same shelf for the third time.

But as she recalled his playful smile and the genuine warmth in his eyes when he’d outlined his vision for their collaboration, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Some risks, after all, were worth taking.

Even if they came packaged in expensive suits with a dangerous smile and enough raw power to make her magical senses sing. Even if accepting meant potentially losing her heart to a tiger who already seemed to know exactly how to make her pulse race.

“Definitely trouble,” she murmured, but this time, it sounded more like anticipation than warning.

A customer entered, setting the shop’s bells chiming, and Clover straightened her apron. She had a business to run, after all. She couldn’t spend all day thinking about handsome shifters and their ridiculous dimples and intriguing business propositions.

Even if her magic seemed determined to remember exactly how it felt when his power harmonized with hers.

“Focus,” she told herself firmly. But her smile refused to fade, and her candles continued to flicker with decidedly romantic hues.

It was going to be a very interesting partnership indeed.

TEN

Arainbow explosion of dresses littered Clover’s bedroom, each one rejected for crimes ranging from “too obvious” to “not obvious enough.” She stood in front of her mirror, critically eyeing dress number four—a floating confection of mint green that made her look like a woodland fairy having an identity crisis.

“That’s the fourth outfit you’ve tried on,” Poe observed from his perch atop her dresser, his head tilted at an angle that radiated judgment. “For a non-date, you’re certainly putting in a lot of effort.”

“It’s a community picnic.” Clover tugged at the dress’s hem, which insisted on floating upward in a way that suggested it had been enchanted by an overly optimistic seamstress. “I want to look nice for everyone.”

“Everyone?” Poe’s feathers ruffled with amusement. “Or just one very large, very interested tiger who keeps finding excuses to visit our shop? Like yesterday’s emergency candle crisis that turned out to be him needing a single tea light?”

“He said it was for his grandmother!”

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