I shouldn’t like it.
But I do.
I reach the point where the trail bends past her house and, without thinking, I slow and turn slightly.
I lift my hand in a brief wave.
She freezes.
Her eyes go wide, then she waves back—big and enthusiastic, like I just validated something important.
Uh oh.
I lower my hand and keep moving, my jaw tight, my mind racing.
Did I just encourage something I shouldn’t have… by waving?
Because that moment feels like something I’m going to regret.
And also something I’ll think about all day.
It has to be the curse that the witch put on me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t care about Ivy Hart in the slightest.
Yup, that’s it.
I’m cursed.
It’s the reason I glance back at her house and scan the yard until I see her going inside.
She has a really nice ass.
I force myself to look away and keep my eyes firmly on the trail as I pump my arms and legs, trying to outrun her.
Even though she’s not chasing me anymore.
Which is probably for the best.
5
SEBASTIAN
I haven’t been thinking about Ivy at all.
Okay, a little bit.
But that’s only because I’m wondering about her clinging to my sweatshirt like I handed her an engagement ring.
That’s weird, right?
Whatever. Life goes on.
A week passesand I haven’t seen her anywhere. Which may be because I go to work and straight home afterward. I lock all the doors except the patio and balcony. I don’t know why I leave those unlocked.
The next weekend proves that the universe has a sense of humor—and it’s aimed directly at me.
I’m halfway down the wooded path, breath steady, pace controlled, when I see Ivy walking toward me like this is a perfectly normal occurrence and not a calculated assault on my equilibrium.
She’s wearing black leggings and that fitted bright pink jacket, her hair pulled back, cheeks flushed from the cold. She smiles when she spots me—bright and effortless—and lifts a hand in a cheerful wave.
