Page 34 of Best Hex Ever
“I think I’m going to go for a quick walk, actually, just to clear my head.”
A weight pressed down on her chest. Before Scott could say anything, Dina ducked past Martin and out of the room.
She knew the night air wouldn’t make her feel any better. She just needed to get away from Scott, and the feeling in her gut when she was near him. Dina’s heart pounded in her chest as she fled into the woods. The weight of the forest settled over her like earth over long-buried bones.
“Please don’t let me fall in love with him,” she whispered to the woods—half spell, half prayer. But the forest, if it was listening, didn’t answer her.
Chapter 13
Scott felt Dina’s heart beating against his chest, and the slow rise and fall of her breath. Her mountain of curls spilled over the pillow, tickling him—he didn’t care. She had wriggled herself closer until she was essentially on top of him, her thigh and arm thrown over him, her face tucked into the curve of his shoulder. When Scott’s alarm rang and he woke to find himself alone in a cold bed, he groaned. Dina was invading his dreams now—how was he ever going to find peace again now this woman was in his life?
He thought about last night. What had happened? They definitely would have kissed if it hadn’t been for Martin’s interruption. But then Dina had run off into the woods, and he hadn’t heard her enter the cottage until an hour or so later, deep into the quiet hours of the night.
What had changed in that split second? The way she had been with him, that look she had given him as she’d read his palm, as if she wanted to climb into his lap. He’d barely been able to keep his hands off her. It would have been so easy to pull her to him, to slip his hand under the folds of her dress, tugging aside whatever lacy thing she had on underneath. She would have felt soft and warm against him, he was sure of it. So what had changed?
Scott dressed with his mind in a haze, running his fingers through the knots in his hair, contemplating tying it up into a bun and then wondering what Dina’s opinions on man buns were.
He threw on a white T-shirt and knitted cream jumper, jeans, and boots. Immy and Eric had planned a day full of activities for the wedding party, starting with a scavenger hunt in the main house later that morning and some kind of mysterious outdoor activity that afternoon.
Scott walked out into the main living area of the cottage. It smelled like butter and cinnamon and coffee—sweet, sweet coffee. The hearth wasn’t lit, yet the cottage was toasty warm. The pale morning light filtered in through the windows, and outside the trees were alive with birdsong. There was clattering coming from the kitchen.
Scott turned the corner to see Dina muttering to herself, bending over something on the counter that was obscured from his view. He leaned against the wall, arms folded. He could watch her bending over like that all day. He felt himself growing hard in his jeans.
“Oh, you’re awake!” Dina squealed as she turned around. She was wearing a frilly apron and her face was smudged with flour. “I thought I had at least five more minutes before you came out.”
“Five more minutes for what?”
The sweet frown on her forehead and the way she was obscuring what was behind her made him crack a smile. She was just so damn cute. Dina grinned and patted one of the high chairs by the kitchen counter as she walked over to the stove.
He looked down. A mug of steaming coffee had appeared before him, and he wasn’t sure how it had got there. He must be more tired than he thought.
“This is my way of saying sorry for last night. I just…wasn’tfeeling myself. And when I feel like that, I like to bake. It helps clear my head,” Dina said, setting down two plates in front of them.
It looked mouth-wateringly good.
“Dina, these look amazing. I’ve never seen pancakes like this before.”
“They’re called baghrir. Kind of halfway between a crumpet and a crepe. And I also made some chocolate rye bread and strawberry jam, from scratch, because I was feeling indecisive.” That would explain the delicious berry scent in the air then.
“Thank you,” he said, reaching out to rub flour off the tip of her nose. She went still as he touched her, his hand moving and cupping her cheek.
“No one has ever made breakfast for me before, Dina,” Scott said.
His heart thrummed dangerously in his chest, so loud he was sure she could hear it. Almost imperceptibly, she pressed her cheek into his palm, resting her face in his hand. He could have stayed like that forever.
“You have to add butter and honey to the baghrir, it’s the best way to eat it,” Dina said, breaking Scott’s gaze. The way she smiled at him sent a jolt straight to his heart.
“Aye aye, Captain.” Scott winked, reaching out for the butter. “Now I know you bake like this, I’ll be in that café every morning.”
Dina sat beside Scott, rolling her baghrir and eating it with coffee. Scott tried to focus on his breakfast, but he couldn’t. He could barely eat, even though every mouthful was utterly delicious.
“I’minheffen,” he muttered with a mouth full of baghrir. “Seriously, this might be the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”
He’d forgotten how it felt, being with someone like this—the giddy feeling in his chest. He couldn’t help but imagine what itwould be like to spend more mornings with Dina, waking up in their bed, eating breakfast together in a sunny kitchen before he pulled her onto his lap. Imagining a future was a dangerous thing, but for a short time, Scott let himself revel in the idea ofit.
“Are you heading to the house this morning?” he asked.
“Eventually. But I need to finish baking the cinnamon rolls for tomorrow. One of my many maid-of-honor duties.” She grinned, pointing at the trays of cinnamon rolls that were waiting their turn in the oven.
