Page 36 of Boss Witch

A few seconds later,That’s a yes please, if it wasn’t clear.

Dammit.

Now she had a date, and she couldn’t pretend this was about distracting him. She’d reached out because she liked him and she took comfort from his presence.

And it’s all based on a lie. Doesn’t that figure.

She sent the message back with a mental shrug.I’m taking tonight as a mental health day.Clem did have some mild concerns that if she banged him, her magic might spark up, and of course he’d notice.What the hell, might as well live dangerously. If I get caught, I’ll try to convince him I’m the only witch in town.

She’d known volunteering for this might end in sacrifice. The others hadn’t worked it out yet, but when they did, it would lead to another pointless argument. But maybe she could find something in Etta Mae’s notes.

When she left Fix-­It Witches, she didn’t tell Danica that Barnabas and his current wife were in town. She just waved and went, playing her cards so close to the vest that her cousin probably didn’t even know Clemhadcards. She headed home to shower because sometimes that let her symbolically scrub away stress and annoyance. Today she wasn’t so lucky. The day’s irritations clung to her like burrs tangled in a dog’s fur.

Beneath the lukewarm spray, she finished washing up and then chose her outfit with care: a white dress patterned with yellow flowers, light enough for summer with spaghetti straps, a deep V on the neckline, and an adorable tie front and a peekaboo cutout. This dress even had pockets. Next, she laid out accessories—­a delicate necklace on a gold chain that had been a birthday gift from Allegra, chunky white sandals, and a yellow clutch. As she smoothed the lotion on, her signature scent of honey melon and pineapple, she got another message from Gavin.Don’t know if I can live up to the precedent you’ve set, but I’m having a go. Hope you like surprises.

She gazed at her phone with guilt and excitement duking it out. “You mean like a witch hunter showing up and turning out to be sexy and fun and…” She stopped herself, exhaling in a controlled burst. “Nope. Enough of that.”

Short hair was awesome in summer; she put a little gel in her hands and tousled her pixie cut, leaving it to do as it pleased. The result was usually playful and adorable, just as well because Clem lacked the patience for a higher-­maintenance style. She wouldn’t get ready yet, though, because her clothes would get wrinkled lounging around.

As she pulled on a robe, she sent a reply.Where should we meet?

Gavin answered,The café? In a couple of hours.

Sounds good. See you then.

Clem dedicated over an hour to reviewing the notes she’d gotten from Ethel, but they were infuriatingly detailed on matters unrelated to witch hunters. She paged through them, but since she didn’t know the exact dates involved, it was slow going. When the alarm on her phone went off, letting her know it was time to go, she hopped up with alacrity and got dressed. She rarely wore much makeup, and today she only used a touch of bronzer and a tinted lip balm. There were two reasons that was a good idea. The weather was hot and muggy, so she’d sweat through a heavier paint job in no time, and it would be smeared during sex anyway. No point in pretending she didn’t know how this would end. Finally, she rubbed on a tincture Ethel had made, something that should permit intimacy without allowing Gavin to sense her magic.

There wasn’t much of a breeze as she made her way downtown at a leisurely pace. Gavin was already waiting for her, propped against his bike, and his smile—­oh goddess, his smile—­crinkled his eyes at the corners, giving him a rakish air. He stepped toward her like he absolutely couldn’t help it and extended his hand.

Without even a second’s hesitation, she wrapped her fingers around his, and it felt as if a low-­wattage current flickered between them. If attraction could be measured in voltage, they surely had enough to wreak havoc on the grid.

“You take my breath away,” he said, low.

Damn, it was too much, considering the look and sound of him and the delicious cologne he was wearing. She breathed in a smoky, salty scent that made her mouth water—­notes of wood sage, grapefruit, a whisper of hibiscus accentuated by a suggestion of the sea. Like a bonfire on the beach at sunset, he overwhelmed her senses, pushing Clem ever closer to forgetting her mission and indulging herself in him. Gavin Rhys was an ocean she wanted to dive into, and it didn’t much matter if she drowned or swam.

He pulled her in gently, touching the tip of her nose in a teasing caress. “Nothing clever to say? You haven’t called me ‘English’ in a while, and I rather miss it.”

“It wasn’t meant as an endearment,” she muttered.

“You can’t stop me from taking it as one. Ready to go?”

She’d forgotten that this dress might cause her to flash people on the back of his bike, and she slid on behind him quickly, tucking the skirt in as best she could. Once she felt sure she wouldn’t stop traffic, Clem settled close and wrapped her arms around his waist. It really shouldn’t be legal for anyone to smell this good.

“Does that answer you?”

“That’s lovely. Don’t forget the helmet.”

She complied, and as soon as they took off, the breeze boosted her mood. It didn’t matter where she was headed, but each mile he put between them and St. Claire, she felt lighter, like the burden of keeping her coven sisters safe was melting away. The pressure of Barnabas’s arrival lifted too, giving her space to breathe. That was an illusion, of course, a lie she was choosing not to disbelieve, just for this stolen moment. Clem tightened her arms around Gavin’s waist, and he glanced sideways at her, though not for long. He drove the bike like he was part of it, or vice versa, and she reveled in the wildness she always repressed.

Until now. Until this moment.

The ride didn’t last as long as she wished. Soon, they pulled up outside Bulldog Brewing Company. It was a charming choice, and she’d bought their beers at the market before, but it had never occurred to her to check out the place in person. Gavin pulled his helmet off, his inky hair spilling around stubbled cheeks, and a flare of heat lanced through her so fiercely that she had to tighten her thighs.

He bit his lip, adorably boyish. “I’ve booked us a tour and a tasting in one of the private rooms. There’s a park nearby where we can walk, afterwards.”

“Responsible,” she commended.

“How is it?”

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