“You don’t.”
“How kind of you to remind me. Either way, it doesn’t matter. You needed to change. It’s called going undercover, I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of it, but for someone who has yet to explain how she knows so much about the black market, you’re enjoying my discomfort a little too much.”
“Discomfort?” I selected a matching tweed flat cap from a rack. “I hardly think changing your outfit falls underdiscomfort. You’ll draw too much attention if you walk around wearing expensive wool and a starched collar, and I doubt you own anything of lower quality.”
The screen rattled where Derrick bumped into it. He muffled a curse, and I bit the side of my cheek to keep from laughing. Cursing again, this time, he poked his head around the screen.
“Something’s wrong with this shirt. It’s itchy.” He pulled the fabric away from his skin and scratched furiously at his side, eyes narrowing at the guilty press of my lips. “You did this, didn’t you? Some sort of spell?”
“Of course not. I’d never use my magic for evil. Besides, I don’t have a good history with spells. Now, come here.”
He stalked from behind the screen, frown firmly in place. I stood on my toes to place the cap on his head, admiring the way the linen clung to his muscular frame. Derrick fidgeted, unable to get comfortable, and scratched the back of his neck where the shirt collar met his skin.
Maybe I shouldn’t have cast the spell, but I couldn’t resist. His lack of confidence in my magic was irritating, so I’d made his shirt irritating. Seemed like a fair trade.
“Hold still,” I muttered, sliding my knuckles down the back of his neck and over his shoulders.
He tensed at my touch but instantly relaxed as the irritation spell faded. “I knew it.” He caught my hand. “You’re a vengeful witch.” His thumb stroked the center of my palm, and I felt the contact all the way down to my toes. “Now, tell me the truth.”
“Tweed suits you.” I tugged my hand from his and straightened the lapels on the jacket. I had to admit, he was even more handsome in the casual coat, with his shirt unbuttoned at the neckline and cap at a slight angle. In his formal suit, he looked remote and formidable, but dressed like he was now? The opposite. He looked approachable.
Derrick stared at me. “That’s one truth, but not the one I was hoping for.”
“Oh, I thought you were fishing for compliments.” I patted his chest, then turned, only for him to catch my wrist and pull me back.
“Tessa, regardless of your attempts to inflict painful spells on me, I need to know how deep your association goes with illegal activity. Is there anything I should be worried about? or anyone?” He let the question hang in the air.
The truth was on the tip of my tongue.I’m indebted to an underground kingpin and occasionally purchase illicit ingredients for my spells.But I shook my head.
“Most of what I know is secondhand, and as far as the market, I’ve only been one time.”That you know of.
He released my wrist, taking me at my word. The small act of trust made me wince and rub the twinge in my chest. I needed to stop lying, but then I’d look at Derrick and feel the fragile thread of our partnership tighten and nearly snap.
I hated lies. Hated that I had to hide the real me when I was getting glimpses of the real Derrick. He wouldn’t understand, wasn’t the type. His look of disappointment was what I feared the most, and that fear was growing stronger after each encounter, so now, the mere thought of it salted my old wounds. He needed me to be more. Ella needed me to be more too, and with my familial line of dead, judgmental witches as my witness, I’d try to be.
Even if I had to fake it.
The merchant approached and cleared his throat. “Shall I add the items to your account, Detective?” When he wrote the purchases in a ledger and calculated the cost, I choked at the sum. For casual attire, it was insanely expensive.
“Yes, and add these too.” Derrick retrieved a pair of dove-gray leather gloves from a shelf. He guessed the size and handed them to me. “And before you say anything, I won’t add the cost to your fines.”
“I can still do magic with these on,” I teased. “Your shirts aren’t safe.”
The hint of a smile played around his lips. “I don’t doubt that. Wear them anyway. Your fingers are always cold.”
I breathed through the tightness in my throat and acted like the gift hadn’t annihilated my defenses. He’d noticed how cold my fingers were, and magic was harder when my hands were freezing. Slipping them on, I let my eyes drift shut. The supple leather felt like heaven against my skin. I’d never owned anything as luxurious.
“You like them?”
I opened my eyes to find Derrick watching me with satisfaction. “Yes, very much. Thank you, they’re lovely.” A flicker of guilt made me admit, “And I apologize for casting the irritant spell on your shirt. That was childish. Amusing, but childish.”
He thanked the merchant, then turned me by the shoulders toward the door, breath brushing against my cheek as he leaned in to whisper, “Apology accepted. But just so you know, I never get mad. I get even.”
***
“Hurry up, or we’ll be late.”
