Page 190 of Magical Mission
“Well, look at you two,” Stella said, setting the tray on the low table with a practiced flourish. “Still in one piece and radiating mischief. Good signs.”
Skye blinked, then laughed. “Wait a second—have we met?”
“You might not remember, dear,” Stella said, patting her shoulder with a fond smile. “First time Maeve came to town, you were with her. You wandered into the tea shop looking like you’d survived a war with a toddler and a traffic jam. I gave you a lemon balm scone and told you to drink something stronger.”
Skye’s face lit up. “Thatwasyou! You had a whole wall of jars labeled things likeSleep TightandDon't Hex Your Boss.”
“I stand by those blends,” Stella said primly.
“And now I work there.”
Stella winked at me. “Indeed.”
A sharp knock rattled the front door, and I jumped. The sound cut through the room like a spell breaking.
I froze, slowly turning to glance at Stella.
She’d gone still.
Her eyes met mine over the edge of the tray, and the look she gave me wasn’t fear.
It was a warning.
Chapter Forty-Four
The second knock came with a kind of casual insistence, and I relaxed my shoulders, gave Stella a meaningful look, and pulled open the front door.
And there he was.
Keegan.
All tousled hair and hazel eyes, shirt slightly rumpled like he’d just rolled out of bed and wandered through a perfume ad on the way here. He leaned one arm on the frame and gave me a lopsided grin that made my pulse do something I’d pretend was irritation later.
“Wow,” he said, eyes scanning me with dramatic flair. “You open a door like that again, and I might shift right here on the porch.”
Behind me, Stellasnortedloud enough to make the rocking chair squeak.
Celeste, lounging on the couch with a tea mug half-raised to her lips, choked and sputtered. “Wait—what?”
“He’s kidding. He has a weird sense of humor. Nobody shifts into anything.”
He leaned his mouth next to my ear. “I could if that would help my chances with you.”
My belly tensed into something wonderful, but I pushed it away.
Skye cracked up, one hand cradling her belly. “Maeve, are you holding out on us?”
“Iam not,” I said, waving a hand between Keegan and the now-very-interested audience. “He’s just… dramatic.”
Keegan winked.
“Go inside,” I hissed through my teeth. “You’re not helping.”
“I disagree,” he murmured. “I think I’m helping tremendously.”
And that’s when I noticed the rest of the problem.
Because standing just behind Keegan, peering over his shoulder and practically vibrating with suppressed goblin energy, was Twobble.
