Page 38 of Hexed Up

I also realise it’s past ten o’clock, which is pretty late to be knocking on his door.

There’s no turning back now though, because the door swings open and he’s standing in the doorway, looking breathtaking as usual, especially as he’s lost his jacket and tie, has undone the first few buttons of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. He’s also standing in his socks, with a bottle of beer in his hand. Beyond him I catch a glimpse of his flat – all shiny and modern looking.

“Hey,” I say, “I’m sorry to disturb you at this late hour, Mr Shaw, but I am in need of your help.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You are, heh? I’ve had an extraordinarily shit day, but I think it’s about to get better.”

I take his hand in mine and drag him across the hallway into my flat.

“I may have overdone it in the baking department and I need your help to eat these.”

“Woah,” he says, surveying the array of baked goods, “are you applying to be on theBake Offor something?”

“No, I was feeling a little stressed and baking helps. What would you like? Brownie?” I lift the plate in his direction.

“I’d rather eat something else,” he growls, gaze running down my form and I realise several of my earlier worries were totally unfounded. That only leaves all the others!

“Brownie,” I tell him. “I think we’ve pushed the boundaries of the no-intimacy rule far enough already.”

He chuckles and picks a brownie from the plate. He lifts it to his mouth, then stops abruptly and examines the chocolate sponge. “Is this a normal brownie or have you bewitched it? Am I going to grow tentacles or something?”

“Now, that’s an idea,” I say. “Tentacles are kind of hot.”

“They are?” he asks, looking unconvinced.

I nod. “I once dated a merman and the things that man could do with his tentacles …”

“I thought merpeople were half-fish,” he says, with a sulk and what may be a little bit of jealousy.

I smack him on the arm. “I’m joking. I’ve only ever dated witching folk before. I’ve never dated a merman – imagine the practicalities.”

“You’ve never dated a … civilian before?” He takes a bite of the brownie, then another. “Jeez, this is good.”

“Thank you and, no, never a civvie.”

“Then I’m your first.” He finishes the brownie and brushes the crumbs from his fingers.

“We’re not dating,” I tell him.

“I suppose not. What are we doing then?”

“We’re having a situation.”

He laughs. “I missed you today, Molly.”

I tuck a loose lock of hair behind my ear and because I’m hopeless at lying, I tell him, “I think I may have missed you too. Yesterday was a lot of fun.”

He steps towards me with that look and I’m pretty certain he’s going to kiss me again.

I thrust the plate of scones between us. “Scone?”

“I’m full.” He pats his belly.

“Uh uh, you have to eat some more. Look at all of this.”

I sweep my arm across all the baking creations.

“You must really have been stressed.” He leans against my counter and takes a swig of his beer. I have to admit, he vastly improves the aesthetic appearance of my kitchen.