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“We’re on a total news lockdown, so I wish them luck.” He turned and offered me his good arm. “Shall we?”
I hesitated briefly, and then hooked my arm through his. His scent spun around me, warm, musky, and enticing, and I had to clamp down on the stirrings of desire. But the smile that teased the corners of his lips told me he’d caught it.
He didn’t say anything, however, and simply escorted me out of the hospital. At least the silence was a companionable one, with little evidence of the enmity that had accompanied our first meeting. Granted, that had been under extenuating circumstances, but still… it was a nice development.
He led me toward an old Ford wagon rather than his truck. He must have caught my surprise, because he opened the door and said, “I borrowed it from a friend—it’s automatic, and easier to manage when you only have one good arm.”
“Sensible.”
“I can be on rare occasions.” He helped me in, put my overnight bag in the rear, and then climbed into the driver seat.
“Have you heard how Anna is?” I asked.
“They transferred her down to Melbourne.” He carefully reversed out of the parking space. “But they’re saying the burns aren’t as bad as they initially appeared—she only required a minor skin graft.”
“I’m so glad,” I said, even as I wondered if the holy water had been behind that miraculous recovery. “What about Blume?”
“He left the day after he took your statement.” He hesitated. “Hart’s funeral was yesterday. Two council elders attended.”
“I thought the elders hated the IIT?”
“They do, but Hart died in the course of doing his duty here on the reservation. It would be unjust to both his memory and to the sacrifice he made not to attend.”
I nodded and glanced at the window. It was odd, but now that the danger was over, I wasn’t entirely sure how to act in his presence. He might appear relaxed, but there was still a deeper wariness in him.
We arrived at the café all too soon. I gripped the door handle as he came to a stop, and said, “You coming in for another coffee? My shout.”
He hesitated. “I can’t.”
“Ah.” Well then. “Thanks for the lift home—”
He reached across and placed his hand on my leg. A giveaway tremor raced through me, and once again a smile tugged at his lips. But the wariness sharpened in his eyes.
“I have an appointment I can’t get out of, otherwise I would,” he said. “But how about dinner when you’re feeling stronger?”
My pulse stuttered for several seconds and then jumped into overdrive.
“If you’re feeling the need to thank me, forget it.” I forced a smile. “I was only doing what any witch would do in the same situation.”
Any seriously insane witch, that was.
“I doubt most witches would quite go to the lengths you did—”
“Yeah, because they’d actually have the talent and skills to deal with Waverley without ever letting the situation get so out of control.” My voice was dry. “Shout me a beer at Émigré next time we’re all there.”
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” he muttered, and then took a deep breath. “Lizzie Grace, I very much would like to take you to dinner as soon as you’re well enough.”
I blinked. “But I’m a witch. You hate witches.”
“Apparently,” he said, voice dry and amusement glittering in his blue eyes, “not as much as I thought I did.”
“So this is a date?” That edge of incredulousness remained in my voice. “You’re actually asking me out on a date?”
“I am indeed.” He lifted his hand from my leg and lightly brushed my cheek. “You might be a witch, but you’re also a strong, stubborn, intriguing, beautiful, annoying woman I’d really like to know better.”
I laughed. “With a statement like that, how can I resist? Ring me tomorrow, and we’ll talk.”
“I look forward to it.”
