Page 19 of Witchy Woman

A smile curves the top of his mouth on one side. On anyone else it would be cocky, and maybe it is a little bit, but there’s an underlying care there. “Fuck, if you could see the way you look at me.”

My heart stutters at his tone.

“It’s probably good I can’t,” I huff, pulling back. “Watching other people gag makes me want to throw up.”

He opens his mouth to reply and I lift my hand. “If you make a joke about gagging, I swear to God I will light you on fire.”

His deep, rumbling laugh fills the car. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

I slide out of the car before he can make it over to my side. We’re in the middle of the woods—surprise to literally no one. His big lumberjack boots crunch on untouched snow as he carves a path through the trees. His hand is there, just waiting for me.

I don’t take it.

I follow behind his broad shoulders, trying to ignore that even under the layers of shirt and sherpa-lined flannel I can see the muscles shift.

I’m obviously doing a great job of that.

“All right, Goldilocks.” He turns abruptly and I barely refrain from slamming into him. “This is it.”

I take a quick glance at the entirely nondescript area. Am I missing something? “We’re in the middle of the woods, in the dark. Have you been horribly flirting with me all this time just to kill me?”

I don’t think my soulmate would kill me. But, hey, you never know.

“You’re here, so I don’t think I’ve done that bad of a job.” He winks.

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms.

When I don’t reply, he steps closer. “Close your eyes.”

If anything, I hold them open wider. “I’m good, thanks.”

“You’re lucky I like brats.”

“And you’re genuinely lucky I haven’t set you on fire.”

“That’s the second time you’ve threatened to light me on fire.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Fire witch?”

“None-of-your-business witch.”

“Just come and look.”

The sky is a blend of blues, pinks, oranges, reds, and yellows.

Sunrise.

It makes the snow on the tops of the trees glow, reflecting the light back. Every second it changes just a little, some color overtaking the others as the sun rises beyond the horizon line and over the forest in front of us.

In moments, it’s over.

“My father and I used to come out here in the morning on the weekends when I was learning the family business. We’d drinkcoffee, watch the sunrise, and then pick a new tree to fell,” Ash says softly.

I stand in silence as he speaks. He’s sharing a private, special place with me. He’s being selfless and vulnerable with me in a way I’m not sure anyone ever has been.

And he does it with ease. With confidence. Despite how we bicker back and forth, how I push him away. He shows this to me with the confidence that in his most vulnerable moment I won’t slash and wound him.

It’s a trust I don’t deserve.

Thoughts of my own father flood my mind. I don’t think we ever watched the sunrise together. Would he have ever taken me somewhere like this? Was it in his plan to share sunrises together?