Page 116 of The Witching Hours
I held up a finger in a universally understood gesture of, “hang on a sec”.
“Here we go,” I said smiling. “Do you know a place called Babadag Mountain?”
“Yes! I know it!”
“It’s one of the best paragliding sites in the world. I’ll clean up. You go ahead and go.” Paddy came running over, so I bent down and gave him some ear and chin love. When I stood and looked back at the table, the only hint that we’d had breakfast was the flowers.
“I’ll clean up,” Mitch smiled.
I can’t get used to this. He and the vase are leaving soon.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Wait. You need shoes.”
“I’mnot going. This isyouradventure!”
“First, it was your suggestion. So, you must come. Second, we’ll not be gone nearly as long as you leave Paddy for work.”
I was past asking how he knew that. Mitch was grinning and I knew why. I was picturing myself going along to watch him paraglide in Turkey. “I really…”
“Come on,” he interrupted pulling me down the hall toward my closet. “Shoes. And puffy. It will be cool on the mountain.”
“How do you know about puffys?”
“That’s a silly question. I have TV. I know many things about food and fashion and unmarried women getting roses.”
“You watchedThe Bachelor?”
“Among other things.”
“I’m not sure my passport isn’t expired.”
He laughed. “Veronica. You don’t need a passport when you’re traveling with me!” He made it sound like the most ridiculous concept ever conceived.
The doorbell rang. We both froze like it was der commissar. I looked through a front shutter before opening the door for Cass.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she said, reaching out to hand over my sunglasses. “I brought your…” She stopped mid-sentence and left her mouth hanging open. I didn’t have to wonder why. Mitch was probably standing behind me. “This is…”
“Mitch,” I said. “He’s a… friend.”
She gave me a look I’d never seen before. Like she thought I’d just replaced Julia Roberts for the role ofPretty Woman II.
When she regained enough composure to speak, she said, “Cassandra Adair. Pleased to meet you Mitch…?”
“She’s asking for your last name.”
“Oh,” he said. He glanced around the room and his eyes lit on my little hand painted plaque that said Lake House. “Lake.”
“Your name is Mitch Lake?” He nodded. I pinched the bridge of my nose, but stopped before Cass caught me at it. “His last name is the same as yours?”
I smiled and raised my shoulders. “Coinkidink.”
“Convenient you mean.”
“Are you just stopping by? I can make coffee.”
“We’re going paragliding,” Mitch said.
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