Page 49 of How to Flirt with a Witch

“Yes.”

She slows a little and studies me for longer. “Look at me. Are you sure?”

The concern in her eyes melts me. I exhale, feeling safer in her presence. “I’m fine, Natalie. Thank you for—” I choke on the words. I don’t know what, exactly, she’s saved me from, but that icy terror is still gripping me, making me shiver.

She shakes her head, accelerating around a turn.

“He set his dog on us out of nowhere,” I grumble. “Poor thing is going to get seized by the SPCA because of a reckless owner.”

Natalie’s lips twitch, and then she goes back to grinding her teeth. “He knew what he was doing.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was forcing me to show you what—” She closes her mouth, deliberating her next words. “What I can do. Now you know. Now you’ll always know, and there’s no going back.”

“Knowwhat? Why were you there?”

“Why wereyouthere?” Her gaze travels down my body—my curled hair, makeup, the low-cut lace shirt peeking out of my open jacket—and despite everything, a tingle rushes through me at the way she looks at me.

“New Year’s party. I heard there was a bomb, and I thought of the doll and…”

She doesn’t scoff or get angry at me for going closer. Instead, she exhales slowly, dropping her shoulders. “You’re right. It wasn’t a bomb.”

“You were neutralizing a curse.”

She nods curtly. Sweat glistens on her face, and she tries to shimmy out of her coat while weaving through traffic.

“Here.” I grab the end of the sleeve.

Her hand brushes my fingers as she pulls her arm out, shedding the jacket and leaving the olive cable-knit sweater. She wipes her brow. “Thanks.”

Her delicious, warm scent fills the car more than ever, making me want to lean over and see if she tastes as good as she smells. It doesn’t help that her sweater looks cozy enough to curl up against.

I fold my hands in my lap, numb shock rolling over me at what just happened.

The city lights flicker over us, highlighting the sharp angles of her face. She scowls, her jaw working.

“What are you, Natalie?” My words come out tired.

She doesn’t answer. I study the way her fingers caress the steering wheel before forcing myself to look forward.

“Are—” What I’m about to say is ridiculous, but everything fits, doesn’t it? “Are you a magician?”

“What, like I do card tricks at birthday parties?” she grumbles. “Hang on, let me get my top hat.”

I scowl, ready to persist until she cracks. “An alchemist? A shaman? Awitc—”

“Stop.” She puts a hand out toward me, a flash of panic in her expression.

A jolt of victory shoots through me. She’s scared. Either I’ve guessed correctly or I’m dangerously close to the truth.

She lowers her hand, and my heart flips as she nearly rests it on my thigh.

She diverts at the last moment, grabbing the gear stick. “Katie, I really can’t tell you. This is something you were never meant to stumble on.”

“Freddie was about to tell me more.”

“Freddie is a reckless asshole. He was trying to exploit you.”