“Isn’t that reason enough to ask you to be my girlfriend?” he asked softly.
I stared up at him. For so long, I’d watched him from afar, crushed on him without even knowing the real Frank Churchill. What drove the man deep inside? But nowI knew. We’d grown close over the last seven days. His presence was comforting and warm, like a cozy blanket in winter.
“I—I, we can’t.”
His hand fell away from my face, and he nodded, disappointment shining in his eyes.
I took a slow breath. “We can’t be boyfriend and girlfriend if we haven’t kissed.”
He frowned. “But we have kissed.”
“Not for real.”
A small smile pulled at his lips and he drew near, his hand returning to my cheek, cupping it. “Count this as a real kiss, Mary.”
He leaned in, his face inches from mine, and I sensed the warmth of his breath against my mouth. Our lips finally touched, soft at first, as if we both tested the waters, unsure yet eager. His lips were gentle, almost tentative, and I responded in kind, letting the world outside fade away. The kiss deepened slightly, his hand caressing my cheek, urging me closer, and I let myself get lost in the moment. Every touch was perfect—slow and sweet, like apromise whispered in the dark. I never wanted it to end. It was full of something fragile, something new.
Suddenly, he stepped back, a look of horror on his face. “I just had a thought. That time outside the shop wasn’t your first kiss, was it?”
I gave him an awkward smile. “It made for a nice first kiss.”
He shook his head in consternation. “I’m sorry, sometimes I can be so… you deserved better than that.”
I shrugged. “It didn’t bother me.”
“But it bothers me. Now that I…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s work on the potion, and then I should go before I get you in trouble.”
“What if I don’t care if I get into trouble?”
That wonderful smile spread over his face, and he stepped forward and brushed another tantalizingly slow kiss against my mouth before withdrawing. His warm fingers traced the outline of my lips. “Mary, Mary, quite contrary.”
I was melting. All I wanted was for him to stay and kiss me more.
Instead, he took my hand and tugged me into the back room with the potion. “I need to make this up to you. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.”
I swallowed. Suddenly, everything felt more real. “You’re asking me on an official date?”
“Well, we are official, aren’t we?”
“We are.” I couldn’t believe those words left my mouth. Frank and I, official. I pinched myself to confirm I wasn’t dreaming.
“Then it’s a date?”
I couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s a date.”
When we finished brewing for the day, Frank escorted me upstairs, hand in hand. Duchess advanced ahead, pouncing from step to step, stopping occasionally to bat at a dust particle or an old cobweb. We walked through the barrier into the chapel and nearly ran right into Brexton.
“Mary, I was coming to tell you. Have you heard the latest on Isabella’s death? It’s all over the local news,” he said, holding his phone in his hand.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my grip tightening around Frank’s hand. “What is it?
“It seems the DNA test has come in.”
Magical DNA tests needed more time, as magic proved more elusive and difficult to analyze than standard biological DNA. For some reason, the expression on Brexton’s face caused a tightness in my stomach. “What did they find?”
Brexton glanced from me to Frank. “They are still uncertain as to the perpetrator’s identity, but the killer of the woman was undoubtedly a werewolf.”
Chapter 10
