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“Would you?” I ask, looking up at him. “You once told me you’d never leave the Highlands if you had your way.”
He shrugs. “And I’ve never wanted to. I don’t like leaving my home. But you are my home, Tamsin MacPherson. I go where you go.”
His words make my heart accelerate in my chest, and a thrill runs through my veins. A thrill of both giddiness and terror. I don’t know what’s happening with me and Blake. I’ve been keeping a wall between us because I know I have to leave when all this is over. But Blake Blackstock is laying a full siege to my castle, and those walls are weakening fast.
And in that moment, I decide I don’t have to know the answers. I don’t have to predict the future. I can just be here, now, with the warlock who once held my heart. The warlock who’s making a hard play for it once again.
So I don’t say anything, I just turn towards him so our torsos press together. My breath comes out in little white puffs, and the falling snow stings my cheeks. Blake leans down and kisses me softly, kisses me until I don’t notice the cold or the snow. Kisses me until the city blurs around us and we become the golden glow and the silver stars.
I don’t know how much time passes, but then Blake takes my hand and leads me into the townhouse. “I’m going to make us some food,” he says. “Devon said the place is well stocked.”
A warlock who cooks? I bite my lip.
I follow Blake into the kitchen, which is the first room off the patio, and we strip off our jackets and hang them up at the back door. The first thing he does is pull a bottle of Pinot Noir off the wine rack and pour two glasses. I raise my brows, but he says, “I think you deserve it. Plus, it’ll help you relax before bed.”
He’s not wrong. I lean against the granite island and take a sip of the wine as he rummages about in the refrigerator. A moment later he pulls out a package of chicken, some zucchini, and a block of fresh parmesan. Then he lights up the gas stove and pulls out a skillet to heat while he starts chopping everything up.
“So, you know how to cook now. What else don’t I know about you?” I ask, taking another sip of my wine.
He looks up at me from under his dark sweep of hair and my heart stutters for a moment. “I’m a warlock of many talents,” he says with a small smile. “I don’t do anything as glamorous as you do, being a world-renowned doctor and all, but I do a bit of this and that.”
“That makes you sound like a criminal,” I tease. “What exactly do you do for a living?”
Blake wields the knife like a pro as he cuts up the chicken. “Well, I started my business in imports and exports for the magical community. That proved lucrative, so I suppose you could say I’ve become somewhat of an investor.”
I raise my brows. “Oh?”
He shrugs, pours some olive oil in the skillet, and places the chicken in the pan to sauté. “Real estate. Start-up businesses. A thoroughbred racing team in Ireland. Things like that.”
“Not bad for a wolf from the Highlands,” I say, impressed. I lift my glass in a cheers gesture.
“I guess we both found our way in the world.” He casts me a look with his intense blue eyes and tosses the zucchini into the pan with the chicken. Then turns to face me and leans back against the counter, wine glass in hand. He takes a sip and I watch his lips. It’s impossible not to remember them all over my body.
“And what do you do for fun when you’re not running a bunch of businesses?” I ask, taking another drink myself.
“Much to Colin and Daniel’s dismay, I’m the Highlands ax-throwing champion three years running now.” Blake grins. “They’re always second and third, but haven’t managed to unseat me yet.”
“I imagine that chafes them to no end.” I let out a giggle.
“And you?” he asks. “What do you do when you’re not wielding the sword of science and saving people’s lives?”
“I doubt this will shock you, but I tend to work long hours.” Now it’s my turn to shrug. “I enjoy my work. There’s not a lot of time for other things in my life.”
“Don’t all of you doctors attend charity fundraisers and art shows and things like that?” he asks.
There’s something in his tone, or maybe his innocent expression. “Did you Google me, Blake Blackstock?”
He grins and blushes, and I walk over and shove him playfully in the chest. “I confess nothing,” he says.
I lean back against the counter as he flips the chicken and stirs the veggies. He adds some sea salt and pepper. “That smells amazing,” I say, my mouth watering. I’m deliriously tired, but my stomach needs food before sleep.
When he turns back around, he places one hand on each side of me, trapping me up against the counter. His hips press up against mine, and I can feel a growing hardness in his jeans. He leans forward and kisses the side of my neck. A sigh of pleasure escapes my lips.
“You’re going to make me spill my wine,” I whisper.
He straightens and takes the glass from my hands, raising it to his lips. His blue eyes spark against mine as he takes a long drink from it. I don’t think any man has ever looked so sexy drinking a glass of wine. Then he sets it down on the counter and kisses me so I can taste the earthy spice of the drink on his tongue. One of his hands moves under my sweater, and he wraps his arm around the small of my back and pulls me even closer.
After several long moments, he pulls back. “And you’re going to make me ruin dinner,” he says, his voice deep and sultry.
“Let me go freshen up,” I say. Mostly because I need to get my racing heart under control.
Blake starts plating up the food. I check my phone just to be sure no one from the hospital has texted me (I gave them all my number), then I head into the bathroom. I splash my face with some cool water and towel it off, then head back out into the kitchen. Blake is standing there, looking at something on the countertop with a frown on his face.
My phone.
I freeze. “What’s the matter?”
He moves his gaze to mine, eyes blazing with anger. Then he lifts my phone and holds the screen out for me to read it, displaying a new text that has just come in. “It seems John can’t wait for you to move into his townhouse with him.”
