Angela breezed past me, her hawk eyes narrowing on my inactivity. It was as if she could sense the service disruption. Her heels ground to a halt on the linoleum.
“Your section needs coffee, Elle. Move it.”
Hearing my name, Caden bristled. I laughed under my breath and stepped up to the coffee station.A man literally cringes at my approach. How fun! Can’t wait to tell my diary.
I grabbed an empty carafe and waited a few painful minutes for the coffee to finish brewing. The silence stretched, and I cracked first, needing to fill it for my own sanity. I went with something easy, the common ground of the working class. No way he could find fault with that.
“Long night, huh? First days are always the worst.”
He grunted.
My teeth clenched. Was he incapable of polite conversation? On my second attempt, I tried to address the issue.
“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. It’s funny, considering . . . well, you know.” I wriggled my fingers, implying our shared magical abilities, but his puzzled expression made me think the action looked more like jazz hands.
“What are you talking about?” he asked with a frown.
“Forget it,” I mumbled. Why should I bother being nice when he couldn’t do the same? What was the point? He could take his magic and his rock-hard body and go stick his head in the shrimp bowl. His attitude was already as cold as ice—might as well use it to preserve the shellfish.
The coffee finished brewing, and we reached for the sugar basket at the same time. His hand covered mine. A jolt of electricity shot up my arm. It buzzed, mellowing into a warm sensation. He felt it too by the look on his face. I figured he would jerk his hand away, but instead he hesitated, prolonging the connection, testing it in some way.
A weird feeling crept into my bones. That Graves Warning again.
I shouldn’t have sensed anything beyond the magic coursing through his veins, but I felt his distrust. It was like a storm cloud darkening with rain; a tempest of frustration mixed with a layer of fear. Not fear of death. Something more insidious. Fear of failure, of indecision.
His gaze sharpened, almost as if he knew I saw straight through to his center. The moment grew too tense, so I deflected.
“Beat you to it.”
“Huh?” His brow creased, and some of his tension eased.
“The sugar. I had it first. You’ll have to fight me for it.” I leaned closer, lowering my voice for his ears only. “I’m scrappy. It won’t be easy.”
Surprise lifted the corners of his mouth, and the warm feeling in my arm spread to my toes.
So, I can make him smile.
And boy, was it worth it.
He flexed his fingers, removing them from mine. The edges of his smile evolved, turning seductive. “Consider it yours. But don’t get too comfortable, ’cause I’ll be back for it, and I don’t fight fair.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep it in mind.”
Were we flirting? Had I somehow tripped into his good graces? Out of practice and riding an attention high, I got cocky.
“So, about that thing I was talking about. We have something in common.” I wriggled my fingers again, my mind screaming, “Stop doing jazz hands!”
I might as well have thrown ice water in his face. His expression hardened, and our cozy bubble popped. He didn’t meet my gaze as he picked up his coffee carafe.
“Drop it, Elle. You don’t know anything about me.” The coolness in his tone was in direct contrast to the heat climbing my neck.
What a jerk!My mouth hung open as he stalked through the swinging doors. A red haze clouded my vision. I struggled with the urge to retaliate. To show him I wasn’t kidding when I called myself scrappy.
Enough was enough.
I chased after him, the doors crashing open as I entered the reception room. My nose twitched, palms rising as the spell shot through my fingertips.
Barely a foot in front of me, he stumbled. The spell tangled his feet, sending his body careening forward. The instant gratification surging through my body turned to horror when I realized my mistake.
