Chapter 10

10

Leah wasn't exactly sure how she'd ended up looking out at Gabriel's magnificent view. If she traced a path from the start of the evening to now, it wouldn't have been an obvious one.

She disliked him, right? He was arrogant and rude and completely unapologetic about it.

So why, she asked herself for the umpteenth time as she turned from the city lights to accept a mug of steaming coffee, had she pushed her way into his apartment?

The apartment was nice, big—hardly shocking—open plan. A short hallway led to the kitchen-slash-living room, where a corner sofa done in soft gray dominated the right side. A muted rug in cream and gray lay across the dark hardwood floor and a glass coffee table sat atop it, only a perfectly straight remote on top of that. The wide-screen TV it belonged to was hung on the eggshell-painted wall. She couldn't imagine Gabriel watching TV, couldn't imagine him relaxing at all.

Beyond, a deck of some kind with an iron railing could be seen out of floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond that was the familiar placid darkness of Lake Michigan, which she'd been staring at to give both of them a chance to settle.

At least he didn't seem as drunk now, either her words or his own warlock nature slicing through the alcohol haze. He cradled his own mug as he retreated to the breakfast bar.

Staying in their corners, she thought with some amusement, bringing the mug up to blow on it.

Since he seemed on edge, a territorial animal with someone in his space, she hunted for a safe topic.

"Sonny says you've been getting on well at the shelter," she said, nudging her hips back against the window. The cold seeped through her jeans and she quickly straightened. "Ah, are you enjoying it?"

"It's a job."

Three words.

Even she couldn't do much with three words.

At least until he added, "I like to learn new things."

Unsure how to respond, she took a gulp of coffee. And spat it back in the mug.

"It's hot," he told her, like you would a five-year-old.

As her mouth burned, she slid him a withering look.

He pressed his lips together and looked down, almost—almost—smiling. She hoped she was there when he finally did.

"You like learning new things?" she managed once she'd assured herself her tongue hadn't boiled off. A swift once-over had her stating, "You should tell that to your face."

"My face is not a billboard of emotion."

"Slap that on a bumper sticker." Leah bit down on her amusement. "But you're saying you actually like learning to mop and take care of animals?"

"Knowledge is power."

Now she laughed. "Well, that's on brand."

"On brand?"

Human term. "I just meant," she said aloud, "of course you have an ulterior motive to learning. Don't you ever just do anything for fun?"

"I enjoy documentaries," he ventured after a moment's thought.

"And here I didn't think we had anything in common, Gabe."

He ignored that. "You like documentaries?"

"Pretty much every type," she confirmed, tucking hair behind her ear and cautiously sipping her coffee. "I'm a bit of a curious nerd. I'll try anything once." She felt the color rise to her cheeks in a wave of heat. "Ah, I meant, like true crime, history, industry."

"You surprise me."

"You surprise me . I figured you for alphabetizing your belongings for fun or practicing your sneer in the mirror."

"The sneer comes naturally."

It startled a laugh out of her. "Well, it's good you're enjoying it. We need you."

"You do."

"More honesty?"

He tipped his mug back without speaking.

She smoothed her thumb over the hot ceramic. "Sonny used to have a better handle on things." Her easy humor faded as the worry pinched. "But life happens," she continued. "He got older, more animals needed homes. Expenses go up, bills flood in. People need paid work, so they go elsewhere."

"You haven't."

"I wouldn't. They need me. I run the website, the social media." She shot him a somewhat teasing look. "Almost as important as having someone on reception these days."

He arched an eyebrow but didn't comment. "Do people donate?"

"It only goes so far. We rescued a dog a few weeks back that'd obviously been used for baiting. In fights," she elaborated at his blank look. "He had to go into surgery to save his leg. He's recovering, but that bill alone was thousands." She tapped her fingernails, a jaunty lemon color, on the mug, jittery with excess energy. "He looks so stressed these days. Sometimes I worry—" She caught herself. "Well, anyway, you being around is helpful."

The ring he always wore on his left hand glinted in the low lights as he swilled his drink. "Even taking into account my salary?"

An internal siren blared. "You needed the job and we can afford some part-time employees." Or she could, out of what remained of her trust. As far as Sonny knew, Gabriel was volunteering. She refused to take money out of the shelter when she was the one who'd insisted on Gabriel working there.

His gaze picked her apart. "We can or you can?"

She opened her mouth.

"Don't lie to me."

Deciding she really needed to sit, she avoided that stare and crossed to the couch. So tidy. She resisted the urge to poke the remote control out of alignment.

"Leah."

"What?" She hunched her shoulders. "It's no big deal."

"Why are you paying me a salary?"

"The shelter can't afford to and you needed the job."

His jaw flexed. "You will cease paying it."

She scoffed. "Brilliant plan. And what are you going to live on?"

"I have plenty of money."

She bet he did. Apparently, along with magical powers, witches made a killing at managing their finances, and being the heir of Goodnight's Remedies had to have benefits beyond unlimited access to their wrinkle-free face cream.

She sipped more coffee. "I can afford it." Just.

"Your ripped jeans say otherwise."

"Those are a fashion statement."

"And your sweaters that don't fit?"

She lowered the mug. "I'm feeling a lot of judgment right now from a man who probably sleeps in a tie and cuff links."

He ignored her. "And your cap."

"You say one word about the Cubs..."

"You can't possibly afford me."

"Maybe not for the whole night, but is there an hourly rate we could discuss?" She sniggered at his confused expression. "Never mind. Leave it, Gabriel."

"No."

"This is about your whole owing-people issues, isn't it?"

"Keep your money," he gritted out. "Or put it toward the shelter. But I don't want to be in your debt."

She'd so called that one.

Deciding to be nice and not crow, she held up a hand in surrender. "All right, jeez. Hell, you must really enjoy working there to work for free." She slid him a provocative smile. "It's the charming co-workers, isn't it?"

"I find myself dazzled every day."

Her smile stretched into an honest grin. It probably wasn't his intention, but any time a dry retort came from his mouth, she counted it a victory. One more button undone on his serious straitjacket.

"You must like the guys, at least," she pointed out. "You hung out with them voluntarily."

His instant discomfort was obvious. "I was...persuaded," he muttered, lifting his mug.

"And you stayed."

He drank deep before putting the cup on the counter. He kept his eyes on it, then elegantly raised a shoulder. "It was interesting. I've not had much occasion to ‘hang out.'" Instantly, his expression tightened and he looked down his nose at her. "Goodnights have far more important things we must do."

"Of course," she murmured, that crack in his fa?ade splitting her own chest. She couldn't stand being alone, hence her "mutt"-ley crew. She wondered if he felt the same deep down, despite what he said.

Flirtation, not feelings , she reminded herself.

She set down her mug on the glass table. "And Sloane? I hear she's become your shadow."

When he approached, her heart rate picked up, practically humming as he leaned down, low enough for her to see a shadow of facial hair along his jawline. Her breath caught as he reached out. When he produced a coaster to slide under her mug, she had to laugh at herself.

He hesitated, then sank down on the other end of the couch. His back was a straight line while hers curved into the cushions. "I find her interesting."

The man couldn't say he liked anything. Why did she find that interesting?

"She reminds me of someone," he finished, throwing her nervous system into overdrive.

She forced herself to stay relaxed. "Someone I know?" Please don't say Emma.

"No."

Her spine relaxed. Thank God.

When he didn't elaborate, she suppressed a sigh. "Gee, Gabe, you're such a chatterbox."

"So I've been told."

She snickered. "C'mon." She dared to cross the invisible border and poked his leg with her foot. He jerked like she'd electrocuted him.

He recovered quickly. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because when they were handing out patience, curiosity was having a two-for-one sale and I've always been a sucker for a bargain."

"You are strange."

"Like you're a model of normal?"

Green met blue, his searching. His face was shadowed, all angles. "I've never had anyone talk to me like you."

She wiggled her eyebrows. "You're welcome."

The Warlock of Contempt glanced away, but not before she saw the smallest curve shape his lips.

She'd made him smile.

This must be what miracle workers felt.

"My sister."

Her train had jumped tracks and with effort she tried to get back onto his. "What?"

"Sloane." He traced his ring. "She reminds me of my sister."

Right. Tia had mentioned a sister. "How old is she?"

"Fourteen."

"Tough age."

"For some. Melly has always been strong-willed."

"As all Goodnights are."

A dry flick of a look. "Indeed."

"She's back in New Orleans?" He nodded. "You didn't bring her here. I..." She picked her way delicately through the minefield. "With your parents... Do you take care of her?"

"Yes."

She wanted to ask how old he'd been when his parents had died, but it felt too much like prying open the fist he held around his pain. "You must miss her."

"What makes you say that?"

"Your voice. You love her, even when she annoys you."

He faced the window, all haughty male. "I have a great tolerance for annoying females."

Leah laughed at that.

He watched the darkness as she watched him. "We haven't been apart this long before," he admitted softly. "I do miss her, yes."

"She could come visit."

"No." Now his voice was sharp. "It's dangerous."

"The city?"

His lip curled. "The people."

Leah's heart hitched. He'd been so easy tonight, with her, with the guys, that she'd forgotten he had a hang-up about humans. Still, she plunged ahead, a general paving the way for her troops to win the war.

"Depends how you look at it." She didn't flinch as he cut his gaze to hers, the green sharp enough to make her bleed. "I like to think that people are basically good."

Everything about him tightened, a cork ready to blow and shatter the bottle as it flew. "My parents died because they went out of their way to help people," he bit out, voice sharp, hard. "It's because of...‘people' that Melly grew up only knowing them through my memories."

She should go. That was the sensible thing to do.

And yet, her feet stubbornly stayed planted. It didn't take a magnifying glass to glimpse his pain. It was a wound that didn't bleed but wept into his insides, poisoning everything it touched. She shouldn't care, shouldn't want to launch herself at him and hug the ache away. Likely she'd get thrown across the room if she even tried. So, she did the only thing she could think of. Share something of herself.

"You're right." She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, worrying it. Took a deep breath. "People can be selfish. Weak. My dad." Her skin prickled and she shrugged her shoulders irritably. "He was...well, he was my hero when I was a kid. My best friend. Until he decided he wanted a new family." She sensed Gabriel looking at her but preferred to focus her gaze past his shoulder, on his fabulous kitchen and its twelve toasters. That earned a double take. Twelve? And he called her strange. "My mom fell apart," she said, picking up the thread. "Wouldn't eat, wouldn't dress, wouldn't come out of her room. She's the happiest, brightest woman, and with one selfish decision, he cut her into nothing."

Old pain blossomed, a bruise that never healed, sore under the surface. He was poker-faced when she dared to look at him. She found it comforting, preferring that to any kind of sympathy.

"So, I get the whole distrust vibe you've got going," she finished, ready to drop the subject back into the do-not-disturb box. She'd made her point. "But you shouldn't let a couple bad apples ruin the cobbler. Most of us are okay."

He didn't speak but she felt his gaze probing, as if he could see beneath the layers. It propelled her upward with a need to hide. "Anyway, it's late. I should get going. Thanks for the drink."

When he didn't move, didn't speak, she grabbed her purse from where she'd set it by the couch. Home free , she thought. Except when she sidled past him, his long fingers wrapped around her wrist. His hand was cool. Strong.

She hoped he didn't feel the skip in her pulse. "What?"

He released her, an odd hitch of something causing a line between his brows. "You didn't finish your coffee."

Uh, yeah, she had. Except when she glanced back, the mug was half-full.

Her pulse skipped again before rocketing up. She swung her gaze back to him, assessing, wondering what he was playing at. Was this another of his mistakes? Or... Her skin pebbled. Did he...?

"Sit," he ordered, not commenting on her sudden stiffness. He patted the couch in a move as awkward as it was unnatural. "Finish it. Talk to me about...the Cubs."

She blinked, suspicion temporarily diverted. "You want me to talk to you about baseball?"

"Yes."

The warlock was just odd and with the ghost of her dad lingering, she stepped toward the exit. "I should really—"

"You shouldn't go until you've taught me about baseball."

What was this? Gabriel never wanted to talk. He hated company, or that was his party line. So why would he—?

Realization struck. A sleek dart of sensation fired in her chest as she swallowed. "I'm okay, Gabriel. I mean, I'm not upset."

"I know."

"It was a long time ago. I don't need a distraction."

"Who said you did?"

Either she'd read him wrong or Gabriel Goodnight was far sweeter than he let on. And that...that was more dangerous to her than knowing about witches.

She should go.

Instead, she sank back into her seat. "Okay." Her dogs would be fine with Peggy, and Ubers would always be running. Her throat was dry as she cleared it and that damn ache only grew. "Baseball 101. You sure you know what you're getting yourself into?"

He waved an imperious hand. "Of course."

Good. Because she didn't.