The man had picked up half-and-half on his way back from the market without being asked. Nineteen days, and she was supposed to unlearn that.
God help her.
Chapter Nine
Alessandro caught himself smiling at a customer.
Not the polite, professional smile he’d perfected in boardrooms. An actual smile—lopsided and startled and completely unauthorized by the rest of his face.
Mrs. Thornberry had told him a joke about her niece’s herb garden. Something about rosemary and a grumpy gnome. But Marina had laughed, and the sound had done something to Alessandro’s face without his permission.
He retreated to the kitchen immediately.
“You’re spiraling,” Marina said, not looking up from her bread dough. “I can feel it.”
“I smiled at a customer.”
“The horror.”
“Marina.” He gripped the counter edge. “I smiled at Mrs. Thornberry. Voluntarily. Without strategic motivation.”
She did look up then, flour dusting her nose. Her amusement curled around him, warm and fond in a way that made him forget what he’d been worried about.
“You’re becoming a local fixture,” she said. “It happens.”
“It does not happen. I don’t become fixtures. I am temporary. I am passing through.”
“You’ve been here ten days. That’s barely passing through anymore.” She shaped the dough with sure hands, a rhythm she could probably do in her sleep. “Mr. Callahan waved at you from across the street yesterday. Mrs. Whitmore saved you the last cinnamon scone. The twins from the potion shop asked if you’d be joining the town’s Yule celebration.”
“I’m not joining any Yule celebration.”
“They’ve already added your name to the planning committee.” She smiled at his expression of horror. “Also, Mrs. Thornberry stopped trying to set you up. She told me this morning that you’re ‘clearly spoken for.’”
“Spoken for?”
“Her words.” Marina’s lips twitched. “Apparently the whole town has decided you belong to me now. It’s very inconvenient for the single supernaturals who were hoping you’d stick around.”
Alessandro opened his mouth to protest. He didn’t belong to anyone, he was here under duress, this was temporary. And nothing came out.
Because he felt more than Marina’s amusement. Her hope. Fragile and quickly suppressed, but there.
She wanted him to belong to her.
Eighteen days left, he reminded himself.This ends in eighteen days.
But the reminder felt different now. Less like relief and more like a countdown to something he was beginning to dread.
His phone buzzed. David’s name flashed on the screen, the fourth call this morning.
“I should take this.”
Marina nodded, and he stepped out the back door into the alley.
“David.”
“Sir.” His assistant’s voice was tight with barely concealed frustration. “The board meeting you postponed has been rescheduled. Again. They’re asking questions.”
“Let them ask.”
