Page 12 of Best Hex Ever
The last time she had tried magic on Heebie, the cat had ended up talking in a high-pitched baby voice, constantly demanding treats, tuna, or pets. Thank god that spell had only lasted a couple of nights.
Then Dina heard a familiar meow, and she pushed past a family of four to find Heebie contentedly licking her paws and resting in the arms of a tall dark-haired man who was studiously tickling her under the chin.
“Heebie, what are you—” she began to say, but her thoughts dissipated as the man looked up. It was the same man from the café, with his strong nose and lopsided smile. The man she had so easily fallen into conversation with; the man who had taken her breath away.
His eyes widened as he recognized her.
“Hello again,” he said, his voice smooth as honey. “Is this cat yours?” Heebie’s purr switch was turned up to maximum; she clearly liked this guy. And she generally wasn’t a fan of men, so that was saying something.
“She is. I don’t even know how she…Heebie, come here,” Dina said, partly out of breath and partly shocked to silence. Of all the trains in London, he was here, and Heebie was in his arms. This wasn’t exactly an ill omen, but she sure as hell didn’t know what to make ofit.
Dina reached out to take Heebie from him, but the cat hissed, digging her nails into his very nice jumper.
“Hmm. Clearly you’ve made quite the impression,” Dina said.
He shrugged. “I’m more of a dog person really, but I like this one. She’s very round.”
“I hope you aren’t calling my cat fat?” Dina flicked up an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Listen, shall I just bring her back to where you’re sitting? I haven’t booked a seat anyway.”
Dina had to agree this made the most logical sense, but she couldn’t shake the knowing glint in Heebie’s eyes as the man carried her back to Dina’s seat. As if this was all part of her master plan.
She also couldn’t help but glance at the man’s stature as he cradled Heebie in one hand, holding his bag with the other. His chest was so broad he took up the whole aisle, and he had to stoop a little as he lowered himself into a seat so as not to headbutt the overhead luggage rack.
Dina noticed all of this with complete detachedness, of course, and it definitely didn’t give her butterflies.
Only once he was sitting down opposite Dina did Heebie deign to re-enter her cat carrier, falling asleep almost immediately.
“So, you’re more of a dog person, huh?” Dina asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “That’s highly suspicious. Everyone knows that cat people are the best people.”
“If you say so.” He smirked. It set Dina’s pulse racing.
Now, sitting opposite him, she could get a better look at his features, and she was trying very, very hard to ignore the fact that he was fucking gorgeous. A heavy brow, those eyes that she couldn’t bear to hold contact with for too long, a perfectly wonky nose, a lopsided smile, and a jawline that could cut glass peppered with a trimmed beard.
He had a few lines on his forehead that spoke of days spent in the sun without sunscreen, and he was perhaps in his early thirties? He wasn’t wearing his glasses now, but Dina thought no glasses suited him just as well.
“I never got your name, at the café,” he said, as if she needed reminding of their interaction yesterday. She carefully folded her hands under the table, just in case the henna there decidedto start acting up again.
“It’s Dina,” she said, her mouth feeling dry. “And you are?”
“Scott. Scott Mason.” He reached a hand across the table to shake hers, and Dina put out a hand. As they shook, she noticed that his hand enveloped hers entirely, and it sent a delicious shiver careening through her. Who knew shaking hands could be so hot?
It was nice, pretending to flirt with a stranger. Because she was only pretending, she told herself. Then she remembered what the tea leaves had said.Romance is on the horizon.She quashed the thought.
Outside the train, the London suburbs whizzed by in a blur. The apartment blocks turned into houses, those houses into cottages surrounded by green lawns, and then the countryside unfurled around them, filling the windows with views of heathered fields and woodland and sleeping sheep.
“So, what made you open a café, Dina?” Scott asked.
“How do you know I own it?” she countered.
“I just assumed, I guess. The whole place—it…it looks like you. If that makes sense.”
Somehow, it did.
“I opened it to make people happy, really. I wanted somewhere that would feel like an oasis for people in the city—you know, when you’re out and about having a long day and you just need somewhere to sit and exhale and switch off with a good cup of tea for a while. And you work at the museum, don’t you,Scott?” Dina couldn’t help it. She liked the sound of his name on her lips.
“What gave it away—was it the elbow patches?” He chuckled, a deep rumbling laugh.
