Page 30 of A Witch in Notting Hill

She cast her gaze to the ceiling, taking a few breaths before she looked back at me. “It’s... early days,” she said again, a phrase that was becoming more meaningless every time I heard it.

“Early days that are going to turn to later days, or early days that are going to fizzle out before you get very far?”

“That’s a loaded question, Hadley,” she said, a smile playing on her pink lips.

“That isn’t an answer, James.”

“Why does it matter?”

“I have a hard time believing it isn’t obvious why I’m asking.

” I stood from the stool I was perched on and took a few steps in her direction, hands in my pockets to mitigate temptation.

She was too smart for me to have to spell it out.

And I was too wired to say it eloquently.

At this rate, I was at the risk of blurting.

And I wasn’t that kind of guy. The kind of guy who blurts.

“Oliver,” she said.

“I’m listening.”

She put the edge of her thumbnail between her teeth, and that look alone told me everything I needed to know.

“You wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t know the answer,” she said.

Okay, so, same page. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear you say it.”

“You took the easy way out,” she said, dropping her voice to a pitch I thought was meant to mimic mine. “ Isn’t it obvious? ”

“Hardly the easy way. Just not keen on underestimating you, that’s all. Don’t want to be spelling something out for ya that you already know.”

She rolled her eyes, and it drew me in even farther. Another step. “I wouldn’t be here if it was serious.” she said.

“Here in London?”

“Here in the shop.”

This time she took a step, and time slowed.

It was hardly eight o’clock in the morning, and my pulse was racing, my palms itching.

Head spinning. Nothing ever happened to me.

And I liked it that way. But now here I was, face-to-face with an A-list American celebrity in my shop before I even opened, dancing around things we couldn’t quite say, for reasons we weren’t willing to acknowledge.

But even without the words, we knew we were standing on the edge of the same cliff.

“Poor bugger,” I said, my words entirely devoid of meaning.

“You’re bad.”

“You have no idea.”

A knock at the shop door burst our bubble, a sharp needle to the trance we’d been lost in.

“Is that a customer?” she asked, leaning back and squinting through the glass.

Tempted as I was to study the shape of her body in that arc, I had to figure out who the hell was banging on the glass when the sign clearly said I was closed.

I pulled myself away from her, dragging my boots toward the door. Whoever was on the other side, I wasn’t interested.

Even less so when I saw the camera looped around his neck.

“We’re closed,” I said from the other side of the glass, tapping on the massive sign that read... Closed.

“Aye, mate, just a minute of your time.”

“Feel free to come back during business hours,” I said, praying he would not come back during business hours.

“Will Willow James still be here during business hours?” he asked, and I froze. How the fuck did he know she was here?

“Not sure what you’re on about,” I said. “But I’ve got work to do, so if you’ll kindly leave the shop and sort out your business elsewhere.” I gestured down the street, clenching my teeth so hard I feared one might crack.

“Ah, come on. We’ve both got to make a living.” He raised his camera and his eyebrows, and I wanted to smash both onto the sidewalk. “At least tell me what it is she’s doing here.”

“No one’s here,” I said, resisting the urge to turn around and check Willow was out of sight. “And whatever woman you’re looking to photograph without her consent, I doubt she’s interested.”

“Fuck off, mate.”

“Gladly.”

We stared at each other through the glass for what felt like a decade before he finally took a step back. “You’re a right wanker, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I know she’s here, and someone will get a shot of her in town. Only a matter of time.”

“Whatever gets you off my stoop,” I said. It came out hoarse and combative, and I wondered if he could tell through the glass. Judging by the look he gave me as he shuffled away, I had a feeling he could.

I took a few deep breaths before I made my way through the shop to find Willow. I didn’t want to scare her, but she should know she’d been spotted and people were looking for her. And in the bloody shop of all places. Somewhere that was supposed to be a safe hideout.

“Who was that?” she asked when I reached the back room. I dropped onto a stool, motioning for her to do the same.

“Paparazzi.” I sighed, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees and my hands clasped to keep them from balling into fists.

“I told him I had no idea what he was talking about and that there wasn’t anyone here, which was enough to get him to leave, but he knew.

He must have seen you come in this morning. ”

“Shit,” she said. “I thought I was early enough, and with the sunglasses and the hats and the—” She cut herself off, pushing her long hair off her face and exhaling a long, slow breath.

“I’m sorry, Willow. I didn’t—”

“Hey,” she said, leaning forward to meet my eyes. “This isn’t your fault. It just comes with the territory. But it has nothing to do with you. You’ve been so helpful.”

“I should have always had you come in through the back. It was stupid to have you use the front door, and I should have known that.”

“Oliver.” The sound of my name in her mouth gave me goose bumps. “This isn’t your fault,” she said again, emphasizing every syllable. “Please don’t beat yourself up about it. If it wasn’t for you, someone probably would have approached me a long time ago.”

“No one’s going to approach you either way,” I said. “They might know where you are, but they aren’t getting close to you.”

“I trust you.” Those three words were all I needed to hear. “Besides, you said there was a back entrance?”

I wasn’t the kind of guy whose face lit up, but I could feel it practically glowing. “You’re coming back?”

“To the shop? Of course,” she said, like it was obvious. “We’ll just do a better job of hiding me.”

I couldn’t control what happened out in the city. I could protect her, but I couldn’t stop people from noticing her entirely. From seeking her out and trying to make a few quid by splashing her across a front page somewhere.

But I could control what happened in the shop, and I’d be damned if anyone saw her here again.