Page 18 of Witchy Woman

Butterflies erupt in my stomach at the thought of spending the morning with him. What will that be like?

I don’t know how to feel about this.

With feline quietness, I dress and make myself a to-go cup of chocolate earl grey tea. I will absolutely need caffeine to function like a normal human, and I prefer tea to coffee.

Fight me.

So here I am, twenty minutes later, standing outside my house with my sparkly pink to-go cup, my winter boots and coat, and a thick woolen hat.

Our first snow of the year was decent. If I had to guess, we got about five inches—and it’s still fluttering down in a soft cascade. The snowplows haven’t been down our little street for a few hours, so everything is covered in an undisturbed blanket.

It’s the perfect day to snuggle up with a cup of tea and a trashy TV show. But no.

As if the thought summoned him, a huge black pickup truck rumbles up to the house. ‘Cedar Woodworking’ is written on the side in big block lettering.

He jumps out, all chipper and happy. “Morning, Goldilocks!”

Even the winter-lumberjack porn—with his flannel, sherpa-lined jacket and heavy boots—doesn’t make up for the fact that he’s obviously a morning person.

I scowl.

“Are we compensating for something?” I ask, gesturing to the giant car.

“Want to find out?”

I roll my eyes. “That was horrible, even for you.”

He just smiles at me, all sexy beard and handsomeness. “You’re the one who brought it up. Let’s get going.”

Before I can get to the passenger-side door, he opens it and offers me a hand. To be fair, any normal person would need help getting into this thing, but I refuse to touch him. Instead, I scrabble and claw my way in, managing to climb inside with a relatively limited amount of embarrassment.

I don’t meet his gaze. I don’t want to see the smugness on his face at my struggle.

Noah’s words play in my head as Ash gets in the other side.

I want her just as much as she wants me.

Does he really? How do I protect him if that’s the case?

“You’re pretty serious for this early,” he remarks after a few moments of driving. I was so lost in my own head I hadn’t even realized we were moving.

“I’m a serious person.”

Lie. At least, I didn’t used to be serious. I have no idea who I am now. Ash snorts as if he’s thinking the same thing.

Silence falls like a blanket of snow over us again. It’d be so easy to ask him about his passion for woodworking, or what the small tattoo I just noticed on the inside of his wrist means.But I don’t want to keep opening the door further whenever he asks. I shouldn’t have agreed to this little journey, even if he did threaten to take the tent away. Who needs a tent, anyway?

I turn to the window, watching the wintery morning pass by.

I should’ve told Grandma to stuff it when she made me man the booth. What was that old crone going to do? Beat me to death with her walking stick? Set her elderly cat on me?

I’m in a fucking hole of my own making.

“We’re here,” Ash says, turning the car off.

I turn to face him and...he’s right there. Every inch of him. This close, I can’t pretend he’s not the most brutally handsome man I’ve ever seen. A light beard covers a superhero chin and full lips. His nose is straight, leading up to shining emerald eyes draped in long black lashes.

I think I could stare at him for the rest of my life and never get bored. I could always find something new to focus on, to learn about.