Page 11 of Unhinged Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #2)

I couldn’t help the grin stretching over my face. “You will be. Though I’m not picturing you in blue.”

Skye loaded the last order onto the tray, her shoulders more relaxed now. “Oh yeah? What color?”

“Yellow,” I said on pure instinct.

Because you brighten every room you walk into.

She lifted up the tray, carefully balancing it in her hands, looking at me.

“Yellow?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at me for a moment, finally smiling, a dimple pressing into her cheek. “Are we talking banana yellow or like a pale lemon?”

I leaned against the counter. “Undecided.”

She shook her head, letting out a laugh. A fucking laugh. My body warmed at the sound.

I watched her deliver orders to the tables before making her way over to give Mr builder/plumber/electrician his americano to go; they all dressed the same, I could never tell the difference.

“It’s all yours,” she said, handing him his coffee.

He smiled that fucking smile again and I struck a hard line through his order on the pad beside me.

He turned his entire body toward her, giving her his full attention. “Thanks, what’s your name?” he asked, and there was no mistaking his intention.

“Latte, one sugar,” she replied, smiling politely and turning back in the direction of the counter.

I laughed then, the kind that rumbled from deep in my stomach.

Tradesman scowled at me before making a hasty exit.

She hadn’t given him her name for a reason. Was that reason me?

“He likes you,” I said, stating the obvious.

Skye placed her tray back on the counter, giving it a wipe with a rag. She shrugged, not fazed by the stranger’s interest. “He was just being friendly.”

I chuckled at how oblivious she was. “Yeah, I bet he orders an extra drink next time he’s in. Latte, one sugar.”

Her order.

She hurled the dish towel draped over her shoulder at my chest, and I caught it against me. Another shake of her head, a wry smile. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied.

I couldn’t help it, I liked this banter. “Wanna put money on it?” I gave her a cheeky look. The kind that got me in trouble more often than not.

She eyed me closely, folding her arms over her chest. “Are you serious?”

I nodded. “Fifty bucks says he’s in tomorrow, adding your order to his,” I countered.

Another laugh and her hand extended between us. “Done.”

I shook her hand, forcing myself not to close my eyes at the contact as a shiver of excitement extended up my arm. Her gaze travelled to where our hands met, still lingering in the presence of the other. Her attention locked on our connection.

We were still touching. I wasn’t ready to let go.

Reluctantly releasing her hand, I reverted to our previous conversation. “How will I know? Can I trust you to tell me if he does?”

She seemed to collect herself, sliding her hands over her thighs as if pressing out wrinkled fabric. Clearing her throat, she directed her pointer finger at me. “That’s easy. Because he won’t.” Her cheeks flushed, a shy smile curving her lips.

I grinned wider, enjoying the moment far too much. “Don’t be so sure of that.”

Without thinking, I flicked the dish towel at her, light enough to be playful but hard enough to make her yelp.

“Hey!” she cried out with a laugh. She tried to grab it off me, but I held it tight in my grasp, pulling us closer.

With the dish towel between us, she stared directly up at me.

My chest froze. My sensors inhaling her.

This thing between us was so fucking obvious. Why was she fighting it? I broke the moment, because we were in a cafe.

I released the towel, and she retreated a few paces.

“You all good now the lunch rush is over?” I asked, more than prepared to stay longer, but I needed to get some book work done myself.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for your help,”

“All good. I’ll expect my fifty bucks tomorrow,” I said with cocky assurance as I headed to the door.

Today couldn’t have gone better. Things were less awkward. I chanced a glance in her direction and, for good measure, gave her a wink.

***

For the second time in a week, I stared up at her balcony, illuminated by a clear, full moon. I had let two days pass after my visit to the cafe, not wanting to push my luck. We were moving forward in small steps, but progress was still progress.

Scaling the balcony again, the pounding in my chest was a persistent drumbeat; the baseline of my own nervous system screaming at me to leave.

But I couldn't.

I asked myself on the walk over here why I was visiting her at night. Why not catch up for coffee or take a walk along the waterfront? I didn’t have answers. I was acting on pure instinct, something that had never failed me. I felt it in my core. A rope pulling me to her. The tow.

I hauled myself over the balcony, again knocking lightly on her window. I wasn’t sure what time she went to bed, and it was 9.30 PM.

A moment later the door slid open, Skye standing in front of me in another oversized band tee, but this time a pair of white bed socks covered her feet.

Her hair was piled on top of her head, whisps of stray hairs coming from the bun she had twisted it into.

She glowed without makeup, but she didn’t seem to care about me seeing her this way. Beautiful.

“Here to hand over your fifty bucks?” she said dryly, motioning me inside.

I grinned, surprised at her lack of annoyance at my late-night arrival. Following her, I stepped into her bedroom, shutting the door behind me, her scent hitting me at once.

Hold. It. Together.

“He didn’t buy you a coffee?” I asked with surprise. Opportunity missed on his part.

Skye walked over to her bedside table, sifting through her top drawer. I had to move my attention around the room to stop looking at her legs currently hell bent on giving me a semi.

“Here.”

I turned back to her, forcing myself to look at her face.

She held out her hand, a fifty dollar note in it.

He brought her a coffee. Asshole.

I smirked. “I knew it. And no, I was kidding about the bet. I’m not taking that.”

“A bet’s a bet,” she demanded, waving it between us.

I shook my head. There was no way I would take her money.

“If he was a real man he would have asked you on a date.”

She scoffed, shoving her money back into her top drawer, turning to face me again. She walked over to the bed, settling on it. “Jealous?” she asked, and I was all for the flirting.

Why she hadn’t booted me out of her bedroom yet, I wasn’t sure. I stared down at her, running my knuckle over my jaw.

“What if I am?” No cockiness. No cheek. Just pure fucking honesty.

She let out a huff. “I can’t imagine you jealous ever . Not when we were younger, not now.”

“I have every right to be jealous, Skip.”

She forced her hands through her hair, tightening her bun. “Here we go again,” she said on an exasperated breath.

What in the ever-loving fuck?

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, shoving my hands into my pockets.

I sat on the bed beside her. Fuck it. It was now or never.

“Doing what exactly?” She drew out the words as if she had no clue.

“Why play this game? Why deny the mate bond when we both know it’s here?”

Her brows rose before she frowned. “Wesley, this needs to stop. There is no mate bond, and you know it. Do you use that line on all the women?”

“Huh?”

What the fuck was she on about? All the women?

“I would never use the…” I shook my head in disbelief, my hand fisting the material of my sweats. “That’s… no. ”

She stilled, her chest barely rising and falling, studying me as one would a line of convicts. I watched her face change from annoyed to sympathetic before morphing into something more real .

“You’re serious?” she asked . Inspecting me again.

I swear this woman…

“What do you mean, am I serious? Of course .”

She stared at me like I was insane.

How. Did. She. Not. Get. This.

I had one rule in my life: never touch a woman without permission. Because I knew what the alternative felt like. I had not been granted that courtesy.

“Can you please trust me for just one second?” I whispered, hovering my hand over her knee. My nerves were on fire . “Can I touch you, right here?”

She watched my hand float just above her skin.

A long pause.

A small nod.

I rested my hand on her knee and she visibly stiffened. “Do you honestly not feel that?” I asked.

The brush of her skin against mine sent my heart pounding and my blood rushing.

She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m just really confused right now.”

I ran my knuckles against her bare skin, and she inhaled a sharp breath. “Tell me you don’t feel that,” I urged, the sensation of touching her sending me mindless .

“I do… feel something,” she stammered.

“ Something ?” I said incredulously, pulling my hand away. “Skip, I’m aching for you. My entire body is begging for your touch. I’m not kidding around, not for a second.”

She tucked her legs to her chest, her scrutiny assessing me for cracks. For any hint I was making this up. Could she honestly not feel what I did? “Let me kiss you.” My unplanned words came on a quiet breath. Another stupid idea, but something had to give here.

Her cheeks flushed. “What? No!” she hissed.

She was the most infuriating person I had ever met.

I kept my voice low, my eyes capturing hers with an intensity that blew my mind and probably my load when I returned home.

“Tell me you aren’t attracted to me in the slightest. Tell me right now, and I’ll leave,” I demanded, uncertain if I could act on my promise if she did.

She remained silent.

I tried again, softer this time. “Please let me kiss you.”

She twisted her ring.

My next words came out in a whisper. “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

My dick ached in my pants, knowing that, if she said yes, I would finally get to taste her. Something I had wanted for years.

The room stilled. Wind whistled outside, whining as it squeezed through a gap in the door.

“Okay.”

I blinked, sure I’d not heard her correctly.