When Ash looks back at me, his face goes solemn. “Listen, I’ve already beaten my head against this wall. There is no solution.”
“You’ve already looked into this?” I ask Ash, startled.
He clears his throat, shrugging. “I might have.”
Rowan scrunches his neck low to his shoulders, looking suspicious. “Seriously?”
Ash rolls his eyes, turning back to me, and I suddenly realize he’s still soaking wet. “Do you want a towel or something?”
“No. I should probably get going.”
The rain has let up, and the worst of the storm has passed.
“Do you think you’ll be all right alone with him?” Ash smirks in Rowan’s direction. “I wouldn’t want him to try something.”
Scoffing, Rowan flies into the other room, apparently done with the conversation.
“We’ll be fine,” I say wryly.
Now that we have a little privacy, Ash takes several steps forward. “Are you still angry with me?”
“I wasn’t angry—I was disappointed.”
“And now?”
“It helps knowing you tried to find a way to turn Rowan back.”
“I didn’t try that hard,” he says, almost smiling. “If I’m honest.”
“It’s a start.”
“Do you have plans for the weekend?” he asks. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
I bite back a smile, and then I nod. “Call me in the morning.”
He reaches for my hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Goodnight, Kit.”
“Night.”
He steps outside, giving me one last smile, and I close the door.
Once the house is locked up again, I turn toward the kitchen.
“Do you want tea?” I ask Rowan, finding him on his perch near the table.
“Always,” he says, sounding a little funny.
I look at him over my shoulder as I fill the kettle. “What is it?”
“You actually thought I was an old man? Do I sound old?”
I think about that. “No, I suppose not. But I didn’t know how much of that was the charm.”
“Honestly,” he mutters.
“What kind of tea do you want?”
“Whiskey.”
