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He dashed around the front of the car, meeting her at her side as she went to open her own door. To her surprise, he opened it for her, even offering her his hand to help her out.
Enjoying the warmth of his callused, rough palm, Shea willingly placed her fingers in his.
“Thanks,” she mumbled once she was on her feet.
He nodded at her, but didn’t say anything as he let go of her, leaving her at the curb. Moving ahead of Shea, he led the way to the shop, grabbing the door handle right as Shea shouted, “Wait. Don’t—”
The magic zapped Colton. He spit out a curse as the smell of singed fur and burned skin filled the air.
Frowning, he looking at the patch of red skin on his palm. “It’s warded?
“I live alone,” she said defensively, fingers already itching to heal Colton. She’d use the last of her reserves if she thought he’d let her. “Better safe than sorry.”
He shook out his hand. “Kinda strong, don’t you think?”
Colton didn’t know that that wasn't on purpose. Since she didn’t want to zap prospective customers who missed the CLOSED sign, she’d aimed for milder wards. Familial pride kept her from outsourcing such a simple spell to another witch, so Shea chose to
do it herself.
Unfortunately, due to her magic’s tendency to mess up even the easiest spells, she ended up with wards so powerful, they actually impressed her grandmother during her first visit to Shea’s place.
She shrugged. “Like I said, better safe than sorry.”
A faint purple haze formed around her hand as she pushed through the wards as if they weren’t there at all. As soon as she touched the door, the lock turned with an audible click.
Colton huffed. The annoyed sound actually made Shea feel better—that, and because she knew that, just beyond the door, she was home.
She was safe.
He was back to glaring as she pulled the door open. Somehow, that brightened her mood a little, and she was smirking as she said, “What?”
“You can’t use a key?”
“What for? I am a witch.”
And Colton had a… a thing about witches.
Thank the Goddess or, otherwise, she’d have one hell of a problem.
14
Shea’s apartment took up the two floors above her store.
On the floor directly on top, she had a cozy living room and a kitchen. He figured the bedroom and bathroom were the next flight up but, considering he’d bullied an invite this far, he wasn’t going to push his luck by asking to see the rest of her home.
It was a nice set-up. A flat-screen television was mounted on the wall, a chaise lounge angled in the perfect position to watch it. He could make out at least ten different potted plants in just the living room; herbs, he figured, once again regretting the way he belittled the stock in her apothecary. It smelled earthy. Clean. Filtering the scents of the herbs through his nose, he caught a hint of Shea’s woodsy scent.
This was her place, he knew. But, as he stood in the middle of the room, his wolf content for the first time that night, Colt felt like he’d finally come home.
He waited for her to offer him a seat, maybe ask him if he wanted a drink. Hostess shit. His Shea was thoughtful and kind, no matter how bad he treated her, and he wasn’t sure what to say when she stood there awkwardly, a little bit speechless herself.
She shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes.
“So, um, this is my… what did you call it? Den? Yeah. This is my den. As you can see, I’m here, I’m safe, and I’m sure you’re gonna want to be on your way. Thanks for the ride, Colton. You pushed me into it, but I appreciate it. Don’t worry about locking the door when you get downstairs. I’ll take care of it.”
Colt continued to stand there, hardly believing what he was hearing. Was it him, or did Shea just kick him out?
That… that wasn’t supposed to happen. He finally found an excuse to be alone with her. And now she wanted him to go?
