Page 59 of Reckless Witch

“I would love that.” She looks up at Blade, shyness clear in her expression. “I have to get to class.”

“Of course. I suggest you see Ms. Rose later on today. She is a very good person to talk to when you’re feeling a little blue.”

Alisha nods and gives me a tiny wave as she starts away. I sense subtle magic drift in her direction and whip my head back toward Blade.

His eyes shift to me and the tenderness in his expression knocks me off my feet. The emotion is directed at me, not the kid. But why? Because, unlike Raith, he doesn’t believe I’m—

“Come on.” He cups my elbow and heads toward the walkway.

“You did something,” I say.

“Something?”

I snort. “You can’t kid a kidder. You cast a spell on her.”

“Doing something isn’t the same thing as casting a spell on someone.”

My dorm comes into view and I recall I’m about to be put under house arrest. “I haven’t had anything to eat today,” I say, then grasp his arm and add, “Stony is getting her daily order of Chinese food?”

He smiles. “Indeed, she is. I have a friend who owns a fabulous restaurant half an hour from the house. I sent him a key. He delivers twice a day and has instructions to puts the food on paper plates on the kitchen floor.”

I raise my brows. “He doesn’t think that’s odd?”

“I suspect he thinks it’s very odd,” Blade says with a laugh. “But, as I said, he’s a good friend. Now, what would you like to eat?”

“Burger, fries, and a beer.”

His eyes light up. “I can oblige.”

“Really?” I say, then realize my surprise is evident in my voice. I’m some smooth operator.

“One of the best burger joints around delivers,” he says.

I narrow my eyes. “And here I thought we were going for that dinner.”

His eyes darken and my breath catches. “Everything in its time, love.” The British have a way of making everything sound sexy, but sin drips off his low-spoken words.

I can’t halt the lowering of my gaze to his chest. The man’s chest is as sinful as his voice. And those damn arms… God have mercy. I return my attention to his face to find him staring. Well, damn. He knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I shake my head. “Seems I forgot who I’m talking to.”

His brows lift in surprise. “Who might that be?”

“The lollipop man.”

He blinks, then begins to laugh—hard. We reach the dormitory and he pulls the door open for me. I glance left, toward the trees that hide the wall, and consider making a run for it.

His eyes sparkle. “I’ll give you a head start.”

I blink. “What?”

“What do you say to a twenty-foot lead?”

“Then, what, you’ll catch me?”

He steps a hair closer, but it feels as if he’s practically pressed against my body. Or is that wishful thinking?

“I will, indeed, catch you,” he murmurs.