Page 8 of Boss Witch

“You checked the website!”

“That I did. I had to verify this was a real place and that you weren’t secretly planning to abduct me and steal half my liver and one of my kidneys.”

She grinned, clicking the lock button on the key fob. “Maybe I want you to lower your guard, and when you’re overwhelmed with bovine cuteness, bam! That’s when I’ll strike. I could be quite dangerous, you know.”

Gavin’s gray eyes glittered beneath his heavy brows. “I’ll consider myself forewarned and proceed accordingly.”

“You don’t want to run, knowing I’m not to be trusted?”

“That makes you even more intriguing,” he said softly.

***

Gavin couldn’t get a read on Clem.

He realized he didn’t know her surname, but it seemed like an odd thing to ask when she’d made it clear she saw him as a passing fancy. Since he generally lived out of a rucksack, stayed in cheap motels, and often left town in a hurry, it shouldn’t sting being dismissed as a permanent possibility. Yet it did, a bit like salt in a wound he hadn’t known he’d taken.

She seemed to be joking with him about the danger, but he couldn’t dismiss it entirely, for all she looked sleek and delicate, there was also a bit of steel about her. Hurriedly, he moved after her, his boots crunching on the gravel. A few children ran about the farmyard, too excited to know which direction they should turn. While he didn’t share that level of glee, he had to admit this was altogether novel, not something he’d have done in a thousand years, left to his own devices. Some of the farmland here reminded him of the green expanses back home, on the outskirts of Newcastle. Without the rolling hills, of course, and there were cows here instead of inquisitive sheep.

It was most unlike him to follow her without a flicker of protest, but she guided them flawlessly to an enclosure full of wee goats. The little ones he’d spotted earlier were feeding them with great and raucous glee while indulgent parents watched from a distance. Clem procured a supply of goat treats that looked like pellets, then she filled his palm with them.

“Here you go. Have at it. Make all those dreams come true.”

“You’re not joining me?”

“I’m taking pictures,” she said.

At first he suspected that must be another of her jokes, but indeed, she had her mobile at the ready, aimed at him in preparation for some mishap. These goats were too small to knock him down, however, and so they butted him repeatedly in the shins as they jockeyed for position. A greedy little devil shoved his fellows out of the way and devoured all the feed in record time, leaving Gavin’s hand wet with goat spit. Grinning, he swiped it on his dungarees and scratched every single one of them that he could reach on top of their goatish heads.

When was the last time I did something simply for amusement?

It was terrible that he couldn’t recall. A man shouldn’t live without pleasure. Just then, Clem hopped down from her perch on the fence, evidently done filming him, and she drew his eyes with a compulsive power that he couldn’t explain. Certainly, she was a beautiful woman, but he felt electrified in her presence, percolating with unspent energy and constantly thinking of wicked ways he could burn it.

“Cows or horses next?” she asked.

Right, this is a wholesome outing.

Truly, he shouldn’t be entertaining such thoughts about a woman he’d only met twice, though she’d sown the seeds of seduction, and they showed all signs of growing into a fine and hearty sex tree one day. Her legs were smooth and gorgeous, but he probably shouldn’t admire them with such alacrity. It would be humiliating if she caught him, and he’d rather not have her class him with the wankers who’d failed to chat her up the other night.

“Horses,” he decided.

A pair of volunteers let them into the barn, and he stayed out of the way of the mucking shovels. The Belgian horses were beautiful animals, and he patted their noses one by one. His favorite was a dappled bay, who pleaded for treats with liquid, long-­lashed eyes. Clem didn’t approach, just like she kept her distance with the goats.

He cocked his head with sudden curiosity. “You don’t like animals?”

“More accurate to say they don’t like me. When I was twelve, I was in that horsey stage. For my birthday, my parents took my cousin and me for riding lessons. We had the same introduction, same instructions, and Danica adapted like a champion, but I couldn’t get my horse to heed a signal to save my life. When I pulled back on the reins, it ran off the path. I ended up hurtling through a cornfield, completely off the marked route, and they had to send someone after me by the time the damn thing stopped running.”

“You weren’t hurt? Did the horse throw you?”

“No, I was too stubborn to let go,” she said.

For some reason, he heard a threat or maybe a promise in that. Odd that he’d infer such a thing, but her presence had him acting entirely out of character, so what was a little more strangeness when piled up with the rest? Soon he’d have a weird hoard to sit on like a dragon.

“I don’t imagine you were eager for a second riding lesson, though?”

She shook her head. “Never been on a horse since.”

“Pity. You look as though you’d do excellent work astride.” That came out much filthier than he intended; he’d meant it as a compliment on her being well fit, but from the way her dark eyes flashed, her mind went right down the hall and into the bedroom.

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