Page 93 of Under Daddy's Spell

It got quiet again as she listened.

When she next spoke, he could hear her frustration. “I did everything you said, reversing the steps and making the same substitutions. I recreated it as precisely as I could, but nothing happened.”

After another short pause, impatience entered her voice.

“No. If you remember, when I made the potion the first time, I changed my mind and dumped it down the sink. It was the leftover herbs that got used.” She bit out her next response in less than a second. “Yes, I saw him eat it.”

Only hearing one side of the conversation Jordan wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but the gist of it explained why she was so anxious for him to eat the foul-tasting peach muffin last night. She’d dosed him with something and whatever magic she was trying to conjure hadn’t worked.

His naughty, naughty girl was in for it now.

“Wait. You never mentioned that?” she exclaimed. This new information jarred her so much she forgot to keep her voice down. A moment later, she reiterated her point with her previous hushed urgency. “I would definitely remember if you told me my feelings had some bearing on the outcome.”

“No—”

“I didn’t—”

“But—”

After the series of staccato answers, there was the longest pause yet. Then she spoke in her normal tone as if she no longer cared if he heard, “If youtrulywant it undone... Now, I remember.”

He wished he did then maybe he’d know why she emphasized the word truly and know why it seemed so all-fired fucking important.

“What now?” she asked, sounding defeated, which he didn’t like to hear from his girl.

Yes, his.

This bit of naughtiness surpassed the book in the air vent. How an intelligent, well-read, college-educated woman her age could get the foolish notion that she could cast a spell with a muffin, or that spells could be cast at all, was beyond him. But they’d figure it out, and he’d set them back on track because, even if she seemed resigned to them ending, he wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. From the way she’d burrowed into his heart in such a short time, likely, not ever.

Several seconds ticked by where she didn’t say anything.

When she spoke again, it was in the same distant voice she’d used earlier. “If there’s no other way, I’ll do it. And, yes, I’ve heard it’s good for the soul. I probably need to go; he’s been in the shower for a while. Thanks for all your help.”

In the silence that followed, he thought she’d ended the call.

But she posed another question.

“Do you still want that book? Because I want nothing to do with it. Dabbling in magic and potions isn’t for me. I’m not sure why I did it in the first place. I’ll sell it to you at cost; one American dollar.”

From the hallway, he could hear the madame’s raised voice. She sounded angry rather than elated over her $1 bargain book.

Clearly ready to wind things up, Tessa raised her voice because the woman was still ranting. “I’ll bring it by on Monday after lunch.”

The rant cut off abruptly, and Tessa heaved a long-protracted sigh. It was time for Jordan to make his presence known and get some answers.

He walked to the doorway and stopped when he saw her, leaning on the island, elbows propped on top with her face in her hands. Barefoot on the tile, his steps were silent, and she wouldn’t have seen him enter facing away from the door. He didn’t want to startle her, so he said her name softly.

But she huffed a little laugh when he did.

“She said more than once she thought we could be friends. Can you imagine that, boy? Me and the madame friends... Not in this lifetime.”

But Rufus wasn’t there. He had trotted off in the other direction probably to the sunroom, his favorite spot in the house this time of morning.

She seemed to realize she was talking to an empty room and looked around for him. “Rufus?” Bending, she peeked around the end of the island. Finding the mat he’d appropriated as a bed empty, she stood, hands on her hips, and wondered aloud, “Where did he go off to?”

She swung around, apparently to go look for him then jerked seeing Jordan in the doorway. Green eyes wide, her hand on her chest, clearly startled, she exclaimed, “Daddy, you scared me.”

Hmm. Back to Daddy. Her spontaneous response pleased him. At least she hadn’t completely written them off. His optimism was bolstered by the way her gaze traveled over him from his wet hair to his crossed arms to the towel at his waist and his bare feet. The pink that rose in her cheeks proved she wasn’t immune to his presence.

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