I frown at him. “You make me sound like a child.”
He shrugs, hiding a smile.
“She agreed to stay in the car,” Rowan says. “It will be fine.”
Surprised, Ansel focuses on the owl. “You can talk?”
“Yes,” Rowan answers sharply, apparently not in the mood to discuss the mechanics behind it.
“Ansel, this is Rowan,” Ash says. “Rowan, this is Ansel.”
The two size each other up, Ansel curious and Rowan vaguely annoyed.
Hoping to soothe the sorcerer’s concerns about the outing, I say, “Rowan’s right. I plan to stay with him while you and Ash go inside.”
“Besides,” Rowan says. “The exchange is at a human coffee shop in broad daylight. If Kit can control her emotions, he won’t even realize she’s a pixie.”
“Because she’s so good at that,” Ash says sarcastically.
“Hey,”I respond, feeling the need to defend myself.
“I don’t know.” Ansel wrinkles his nose at me. “She looks like a pixie.”
“Sheis right here,” I say. “And what does that mean?”
Bluntly, Ansel says, “You’re short.”
“You’re cute,” Ash adds.
From his tone, I’m not entirely sure he means it as a compliment, but my stomach flutters, nevertheless.
“And yousparkle,” Rowan deadpans.
I clear my throat, willing the troublesome glitter to dissipate, keeping my eyes off Ash—knowing he’s wearing that smug look again. “It’ll be fine.”
“I would just like it to be known that I think it’s a bad idea to bring her,” Ansel says. “Whose car are we taking?”
“Noted,” Ash says. “And we’ll take mine.”
Rowan extends his wings, ready to leave his perch. “Got to show it off when you can.”
Ash shoots his cousin a sharp look. “Puncture the leather with your talons, and I’ll leave you in Albany.”
This is getting off to a great start.
It’s raining heavilywhen we arrive at the coffee shop. Ash pulls into a spot and frowns at the downpour.
“Okay,” I say from the plush backseat of his extremely nice, extremely expensive rich-old-man sedan, watching the rain. “You guys have fun out there.”
Ash turns in his seat, snorting softly, his eyes meeting mine.
“Stop that,” Rowan says to him abruptly, flapping his wings like a disgruntled chicken, using my purse as a perch. “You’ll make her go all glittery, and the storm has made it dark enough that someone might notice.”
I huff out a breath, annoyed because he’s right.
“Let’s go,” Ansel says. As soon as the sorcerer opens his door, wet air gusts into the car. If Rowan were up front, I’m afraid it would blow him over.
“You good?” I ask after Ansel wrestles his door shut and he and Ash make a run across the parking lot to the front door.
