Raya walked further into the store. “Oh, I don’t know. Nathan Lorde was wearing a tweed jacket today.”
“Nathan who? Never mind. He’s probably some boring witch. Forget I asked.”
“Nathan is the author of my very favorite witchcraft book and I met him at a cafe this morning—”
“How fascinating,” Phoenix said in a tone that indicated the exact opposite.
“—and he made this Eiffel Tower made of light and I pulled it over so he would notice me and then he talked about the theory of magic—”
Phoenix rolled his eyes. “And did he?”
“Did he what?”
“Notice you.”
“I think so.”
“You’re an attention-seeking missile, you know that?”
Raya picked up a bottle of cologne from a nearby counter and spritzed him. “Takes one to know one.”
He waved the cloud of scent away. “How much coffee have you had today, anyway?”
“I lost count. As I was saying—oh, look!” Raya seized a distressed denim jacket from a nearby rack and held it up.
“Back away from the denim.”
Raya dropped it back on the rack. “Spoilsport.”
Phoenix caught the attention of a salesperson. “Excusez-moi,avez-vousdes vestes encuir?”
The salesperson responded in French and pointed deeper into the store.
Phoenix took the lead as they meandered through one exquisite room after another, until they reached a quiet department decorated with warm blond wood and flattering spotlights.
“She said there were a few left back here.” Phoenix veered away to a rack set into one of the wooden displays. “Ah, here we are.” He pulled a few forward and glanced at Raya, eyeing her for size.
Raya pounced on a jacket with a fit-and-flare shape. “Come to mama.” She ran her hands over the butter-soft leather, stopping when the tag at the cuff scratched her palm. She flipped it over to view the price. Her stomach dropped. She hastily placed the jacket on the rack. “I was only kidding, you know,” she said flippantly. “Just yanking your chain. Let’s go.”
“What? And deprive myself the pleasure of making you wear a matching jacket? Not on your life, witch.”
“Really, Phoenix—”
“Quiet.” He held the jacket open behind her. “Where do you think I get my money from?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. We never really—talk?” She made the realization only as the words left her lips.
“That’s because you’re too busy trying to be clever. Put the jacket on.”
She carefully slipped her arms into the jacket. It fit like a dream.
Phoenix bent and whispered in her ear: “I steal from bad people. They’ll hardly miss it.”
“Stealing is wrong,” said Raya, without any conviction whatsoever—and utterly distracted by his voice so close to her ear.
He straightened up and patted her shoulder. “So is casting spells to make people do what you want. I’d say we’re even.”
“I don’t cast—”
