Page 8 of Wooing the Wiccan
“Tidying up,” I reply calmly, my hands full of small tapers. “Could you grab the bag these were in?”
He obeys, but if I thought he’d let it go, I was so very wrong. “We don’t have a security protocol in place for this.”
“I’ve had tea in a public place before, Ari. We don’t need a security protocol.” I drop the candles in the bag and go back for the cups while he begins stacking chairs.
“Not with a stranger. Ahumanstranger,” he hisses.
“That makes it even safer. He has no idea who I am, and nor will anyone else at this bookstore, most likely. Not that there’s any active threat to my safety anyway. You’re beginning to sound like Steffen Draco.” It gives me plenty of satisfaction to get that dig in.
Ari narrows his eyes. “If this is the kind of escapade Brandt gets up to, I’m beginning to understand why Steffen is so strict.”
I laugh. “Escapade? It’s a cup of tea in a bookstore café, to which I’m certain you’ll follow us. That hardly counts as an escapade.”
We move to rearrange the tables, and he says, “It does for you. Especially since you’re doing it with an unknown human—and one who’s seen you spellcast. Have you forgotten how big a danger humans present to the community?”
I pull out my trump card. “Not this one, or he wouldn’t be here. Have you forgotten that Steffen insisted on a rigorous background check on every human invited to the program?”
He falls silent, and I savor the victory for a few seconds before relenting. “It’s a cup of tea in a quiet café,” I reiterate. “He has to work tomorrow, so we’ll probably be all done and on our way home in an hour. He’s been vetted, you’ll be watching the whole time, and I promise to be careful and not give anything away. I work hard, Ari. Let me have this one small thing.”
He sighs, and I know I’ve won.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jared
I hover in the hallway,wondering what’s come over me. I’ve never asked Pete or any of the others who’ve filled in for him to have a drink with me, and it can be argued that they all helped me more than Raðulfr—though his tip tonight about starting with something that already exists is a good one. I can already think of other things it will make so much easier.
But that’s not the only reason I suggested this outing. It’s not even the main one. I can’tactuallycall this a date, because I’ve told Raðulfr it’s just a thank-you drink, but I’m kind of maybe hoping that it will lead to one. Which is nerve-racking. It’s been a good long while since I dated anyone, and longer still since it was someone I just met randomly. Usually I end up dating friends of friends or people I meet at teacher conferences or witchy events.
I guess a class on using magic counts as a witchy event. And it’s a definite bonus that Raðulfr already knows I’m a witch and isn’t bothered by it. A lot of people back off fast when they find out I’m Wiccan. Of course, the downside is that he doesn’t know I’m interested in him that way. Maybe he usually has a cup of tea at this time and figures I might as well pay for it. Maybe he’s not interested in men. Maybe he’s married or in a serious relationship. Maybe he felt bad saying no when I asked.
Maybe I need to stop overthinking this. It’s a casual drink in a public place with an interesting man. That’s all. Then I’ll go home, get some sleep, and wake up to another day of teaching five-year-olds that “fingerpainting” doesn’t mean “put paint on your mouth and nose and press your face to the paper.” My life might not be thrilling, but it’s mine and I like?—
I frown. Is Raðulfr talking to himself? I’d swear I hear voices from inside the meeting room. Should I check on him?
I’m still trying to decide—and really, does it matter if he talks to himself? I talk to my cat—when the door opens and he comes out. As soon as he sees me, his face lights with a smile, and I let go of the foolish worries. It doesn’t seem likely that he only agreed to come because he felt sorry for me, not if he’s smiling like that.
“Ready?” he asks, and I nod.
“Is there anything you need to do here before we go? Check in with someone or…?” I have no idea how hiring a room in a community center works.
“No, it’s all sorted. I just need to make sure this is closed.” He pulls the door shut, then dusts off his hands. “Shall we?”
The night outside is crisp and cold, though warmer than it was just a few weeks ago. It’s not quite spring, but on a night like tonight, I can begin to hope winter will soon be behind us. Not that I dislike winter—it has its good points—but I’m looking forward to getting out in my garden again.
“You’re deep in thought,” Raðulfr ventures as we stroll along the sidewalk. “Thinking about that spell?”
I mentally kick myself for wasting this opportunity. He’s hardly going to want to get to know me better if I’m a silent lump. “No, actually. I was thinking of all the things I’d like to do in my garden come spring.”
“You like to garden?” His delight warms me from top to toe. “So do I. Not that I get much chance these days, but I do have a small patch to potter in.”
“Same,” I confess. “Mostly I grow herbs and other bits and pieces I can use in practice, but I do like to add the occasional frivolous flower or tree.” I snort. “A few years back, I bought a dwarf kumquat tree.”
“Oh?” He tilts his head in curiosity. “I’m not familiar with… what did you call it? Komquill?”
“Kumquat,” I repeat, grinning. “It’s a fruit tree that’s native to China. I bought it on a whim because it’s pretty, but I wasn’t prepared for the fruit.”
“You can’t finish the story like that,” he protests. “Is the fruit bad?”
