Page 2 of To Teleport, or Not to Teleport?
Kenny raised his hands in defense. “I—I’m sorry.”
Huffing out a breath, I shook my head. I shot him the hardest look of disappointment, which I normally reserved for the kids I caught cheating, before turning on my heels and walking away. My cheeks burned with heat as I pushed the door open and was hit with fresh air.
To be frank, I had used a spell on occasion to make my life easier. Most witches did. The dishes wouldn’t clean themselves otherwise. Usually when I found myself doing that, it was because I was buried under a stack of papers I needed to grade. Kenny suggesting it may have bothered me, but it also gave me the out I wanted from another unwanted dinner invite.
Adjusting my messenger bag filled with papers on my shoulder, I turned toward the center of town. I parted my lips slightly and did my best to prevent my olfactory gift from kicking in, by mouth breathing. Yes, it was gross but so were images of Kenny jacking off. The joke was clearly on me, when I was blessed with the ability to see visions of the past, present, and future. The kicker of it all was the fact it was triggered by my nose. I blamed my beagle father for that.
With each passing minute, my frustration grew. By the time I reached Bougie Treats, my cousin’s bakery, a sheen of sweat covered my skin and I was out of breath. Pushing the door open, the bell hanging off the glass announced my arrival to anyone inside.
Cami turned toward me, and I launched into my tirade. “Why do men not get it? Why do they need to push and push and push?” My hands flew through the air, stabbing at an imaginary Kenny. “Oh! And who the hell do I need to curse for mygift.” I bit out the last word before telling her about the vision I had been graced with that morning, nose be damned.
My cousin set a chocolate croissant on a plate and rounded the long counter. “Aileen, you need to breathe,” she whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” I asked, taking in the empty tables.
“We can talk about that fucktwad in a second, but I really think you should know—”
A sound drew our attention toward the hall that led to the single bathroom, office, and eventually the stairs to the apartment above the bakery. My brows pinched together. “Who—”
Time stilled. My body went cold, then flared with heat at the familiar man who appeared at the entrance of the hall. A gasp filled the air—mygasp from the hike of my shoulders. I blinked once and then again when the image moved closer.
“Hey, Lee,” Grayson said as if we were still sixteen. His voice was slightly deeper than it had been when we were kids. The dark hair on his head was longer than I remembered, but his piercing, blue-green eyes had not changed. Not one friggin’ bit.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted, then noticed a dark stain on his red T-shirt. “And why is your shirt all wet?”
“You look great,” he said, and damn butterflies took flight in my stomach.
My hand went up between us. “Grayson!”
“The shirt was my fault,” Cami said.
His lips pulled into a frown, and my heart squeezed. “You’re not happy to see me.”
I ran my hands against my face and sucked in a calming breath. “That’s not it. Damn it, Grayson. You can’t show up here after however many friggin’ years and just—you left!”
Me, I wanted to scream. He leftme.
Needing a moment to process the pain squeezing my heart, I turned toward Cami. “What do you mean the shirt was your fault?”
She shrugged. “I poured my iced tea on him.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset either of you. I’ll just go—”
“No!” The single word flew past my lips and vibrated off the walls. I swallowed thickly. “Look, it’s been a hell of a day, and I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
His lips thinned and his eyes glinted, reminding me of the panther he was. “I didn’t mean to make your day worse.”
Before I could stop myself, I looped my arms around his waist and enveloped him in a tight embrace. I pressed my cheek against his chest, and my breasts smooshed against him. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks. Okay, it wasn’t all embarrassment. I lifted my face from his firm chest to pull back, but his arms wrapped around me and held me in place.
A low rumble vibrated in his chest a second before he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”
The two words were spoken against my ear, low and clear. The ice around my heart where Grayson McCune was concerned thawed a little without my permission.
Unable to think with his heat around me or his comforting scent of pine and peppermint wafting up my nose, I forced my feet to move.
Grayson shoved his hands into his pockets as I hugged my middle. “How long are you here for?” I asked, staring at my feet and doing my best to ignore the shards of pain piercing my heart at the mere thought of him leaving again.
“Indefinitely.”
