Page 45 of How to Flirt with a Witch

I startle, spinning around, and I have to look up to meet his eyes. He’s in his twenties, fair-skinned with blue eyes and blond hair. His cheeks and ears are rosy from the cold, and he shuffles his feet and ducks his chin into the collar of his black down jacket.

I motion back to where I came from. “Someone said something about a bomb threat.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You heard that and decided to come closer?”

“I’m a curious person?” I say hesitantly.

His lips curve into a handsome smile. Between his tousled golden hair, ice-blue eyes, and his broad chest filling out his fur-lined jacket, he looks like he just stepped off a Viking longship.

“Sit,” he murmurs, and I follow his gaze to the German Shepherd at his side. The dog was so quiet that I didn’t even notice him. He sits obediently at the end of a short black leash, looking up and waiting for the next command.

I melt a little. “Oh, cute! What’s his name?”

“Wyatt,” the guy says, and the animal perks up on hearing his name. “Working dog. Don’t pet him.”

It’s my turn to perk up. I love learning about working dogs. It’s my dream to have a therapy dog at my practice when I start my career as a psychologist. “What does he do?”

“He’s got a nose for dangerous items.”

“Sounds like they could use him in there.” I nod toward the nightclub.

“Maybe one day.” He studies me, a crease between his thick eyebrows. “You look familiar. Hey, were you at the thrift store the other day with Nat?”

“Nat?” Something clicks into place, and my heart flips over. “Oh, Natalie—yeah. That was you in the shop! I saw you in the mirror when I was paying.”

He casts me a crooked smile. “Sorry if I was staring.” He looks down, the color in his rosy cheeks deepening.

“All good.” I tug my jacket closed and cross my arms, hunching against the wintry wind. “How do you know Natalie?”

He tilts his head. “We’re in similar lines of work.”

A bolt of excitement zaps through me. Wait, this mysterious Viking man knows about curses and everything?

I try not to look too excited, offering what I hope is a casual smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Katie.”

“Freddie. Freddie Madsen.” He takes a step closer. Wyatt inches over to stay heeling, still watching his handler. That is averywell trained dog

“Is this what I think it is?” I ask, jerking my chin toward the building.

Freddie smiles. “I’m sure you know the answer. Nat’s got you on the hunt, huh?”

Disappointment and frustration twist in my gut again. “If you can call it that. It was only once.”

“Any luck?”

“No,” I say tightly.

He leans in, giving me a playful nudge. “But it wasn’t your first rodeo?”

I hesitate. Should I be talking to him about this? He seems to already know everything, but Natalie did ask me not to tell anyone what happened.

A spark of defiance flares in me. If Natalie had given me a proper explanation, I wouldn’t be standing here in confusion, wondering how much to say.

Letting spite win, I nod. “Twice.”

Freddie searches me curiously, a sort of hunger passing over his expression and parting his lips.

A sharp whistle sounds beside us, and an officer waves to catch our attention. She’s unrolling a line of yellow tape. “Move away, please! This is a crime scene.”