Page 25 of Boss Witch

She peered at the label. “That’s a local brand. Good choice.”

The kitchenette had mason jars, presumably for iced beverages, but they served perfectly for layering. He’d already washed and sliced the berries, so he made quick work of the parfaits, not about to admit that he’d watched multiple instructional videos and then bought organic raw honey. Why? Because he wanted to impress her. Which was ridiculous.

Yet here we are.

“And voilà,” Gavin said, nudging the parfait toward her.

The desserts were beautiful, if he did say so himself. It boosted his ego tremendously when she angled the jar and took a photo. “This is going right on Pictogram.”

“Thank you. Nothing but the best for you.” Before she could dig in, he grabbed her spoon. “Wait. This isn’t nut-­ or gluten-­free. I should’ve asked before I offered to make food.”

“Lucky for you, I don’t have any allergies. Can I have my spoon back?”

He relaxed, abruptly aware of how nervous he’d been. “I was afraid this date might end badly if I didn’t check.”

“Have there been a lot that did?” she asked, taking her first bite.

Gavin sampled his as well, and everything tasted amazing. “I should probably be flippant but…that feels deceptive. There have been hookups more than dates.”

“Well, since we agreed that this”—­she gestured between them with her spoon—­“has an expiration date, I won’t pry into your commitment issues if you don’t poke at mine.”

Why does it bother me so much to hear it stated plainly?Everything she said was true and correct, but it also pissed him off something fierce.

“Fair deal,” he muttered, stuffing his mouth with fruit and yogurt so he wouldn’t immediately push the boundaries of what they’d agreed on.

And ask her,Why is someone as amazing as you looking for dead-­end encounters?Relationships with a best-­by date didn’t seem like they’d be Clem’s style, based on what he’d learned so far. She was a hard worker, a loyal friend, and she cared about her grandmother. In fact, she also—­

For fuck’s sake, man. Stop it. Stop now.

In a lucky break, she seemed far too absorbed in the quality of the fruity treat to notice his preoccupation with delving her mysteries. As she finished the parfait, she licked the spoon, and it went right to his cock. “I’m going to need that granola recipe. It tasted incredible. But I hope it wasn’t complicated because I’m not much of a cook. If it can’t all be dumped in a Crock-­Pot and called food, then I can boil pasta or scramble eggs.”

“How does one fail at salad?” he asked.

“That’s not cooking, it’s assembly.” She narrowed her gaze, flattening her palm on the counter like she was about to lay something deep and serious on him. “It’s one of my pet peeves when I’m trying to make something, usually because my grandma is coming over, and I’m looking for a recipe online, right? So I click the link and it’s something like, ‘for minestrone soup, buy a can of minestrone soup. Open can, put in pot, heat for five minutes, eat.’ That’s not a recipe, it’s instructions!”

Gavin laughed. He couldn’t help it; she was so adorably outraged. “You’ve run into this problem a lot, have you?” He heard his own voice, a tone he’d literally never produced before—­all softness and delight. Even her ranting seemed endearing.

“More than I’d like. It’s not funny,” she added with a glare.

“Right. At any rate, the granola was easy. Oats, oil, and honey in a pan, cook a couple of minutes, add nuts and dried fruit, and Bob’s your uncle.”

Clem propped her chin on her hands. “I have never heard anyone say that before. You’re adorable, you know that, right?”

“It’s the accent, isn’t it?”

“It’s…everything.” From the way her face froze, she hadn’t meant to say that.

Does that mean she’s struggling with the lines we’ve drawn as much as I am?

“Is it now?” Gavin heard the deep rasp in his voice, but he couldn’t control it.

Clem smiled, a flirtatious cast to her expression. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re hot.”

“Thanks for noticing. It’s quite early, and I can’t imagine that you want to spend the whole day cooped up in this little flat. Any suggestions?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” She got up and fetched the mystery box. “This is a surprise for you. If you don’t like it, I can—­”

“Why don’t you let me see what it is first?”

---