Page 26 of Freed By the Witchbone Knife

She looked around. “You’re right. I guess I got a little carried away.”

“Nature can do that.” He reached up, running his fingers through his hair, pulling at some of the knots. She traced the motion, so he dropped his arm.

“Your car is this way.” He pointed her in the right direction, saving her the need for GPS.

“Well aren’t you handy.” Her grin diffused some of the tension between them.

“Guess I have my uses.”

She set off and he fell into pace behind her. This time, he kept his distance. Not that it mattered. Her chamomile and honey scent still surrounded him. And somehow, over the past few hours, the witchy essence that accompanied it wasn’t as irritating.

“You never answered my question,” she called out, after they’d been walking for several minutes.

He knew exactly what question it was. The one that had him lashing out. And maybe it was his guilt that had him saying, “I prefer my solitude.”

“That much is obvious. But it’s not my place to pry, so I won’t ask you why.”

“I wouldn’t answer even if you did.”

“Fair.”

Was it, though?

Because he had a million more questions about her, even if he was unwilling to answer any about himself.

So for now, he didn’t ask a single one.

There were other ways to get information.

Which was why, after seeing her safely back to her car two hours later, he found himself in his cabin, powering on the laptop he almost never used, hooked up to the ethernet cable he paid an arm and a leg for.

And that was when he saw the picture of them.

Rebecca Miller and Ambrose Blackthorn behind the flash of cameras at the Supernatural Council’s Spring Gala. She was wearing a black cocktail dress that came to the middle of her thigh. It hugged her curves perfectly. But that’s not what turned his stomach rock-hard.

It was the sight of her in Blackthorn’s arms, smiling and happy. The caption hinted at rumors of engagement. Even if there was no ring yet on her finger.

He shouldn’t have cared that she’d lied to him—that she’d made it sound like they were enemies.

But he did care.

Because this picture contradicted the story she’d fed him. His jaw clenched and he slammed the laptop shut. He would not allow her to manipulate him again.

8

Iwas in the middle of a physics lecture, which made it all the more humiliating, when a delivery person entered carrying a massive vase of red roses. Massive enough to completely hide the person’s upper body and face from view.

At first, I thought it was for one of my students, which annoyed me a little, but mostly I could shrug it off. Young love and all that. Someone was pulling a romantic move and had chosen a very inappropriate time to do it.

But when the delivery woman—I finally made out her outfit, hair, and face as she set the vase on the table in front of the white board—looked up at me and smiled, I was overcome with confusion. Then my insides went hot at the embarrassing realization that it was for me.

“Delivery for…” She glanced down at the note in her hand. “Professor Rebecca Miller?”

I cleared my throat. “That’s me.”

“Dang Professor M! You have a secret admirer?” Sonny shouted.

My first thought went to Axel. Because…who else could it have been? There were no other males in my life in Redding. He’d been unusually…nice to me on Sunday, following me around while I searched his property⁠—