I was going to regret this decision. No, I was already regretting it because I had never been friends with a male who I found so attractive. I needed to see him in a different light to be fair to us both. However, it seemed unfair to cast a spell to fix such a human problem. If I wanted to live a normal life, then I had to deal with normal things. Such as a beautiful boy who wanted to be my friend and went on coffee dates with girls he did want to date.

I dropped my hands from my face and smiled up at him apologetically. He held out his hand, and I couldn’t keep the slight disappointment, at his request to be my friend, from creeping in a little. Which was ridiculous. This way I could get to know him and not keep pushing him away. There was no other option for us, and his not wanting to date me was a good thing. I slipped my hand into his and we shook.

“See you around, buddy,” he said, then winked before turning to walk away with a swagger that would never lose its appeal.

Staying here now was going to be pointless. I needed to walk and get away from this spot. That alone should have made me want to hate him. He’d just ruined my tranquil meditation spot. Unfortunately, it didn’t make me hold any ill will against him. Standing up with my thoughts on Rathe, and replaying our conversation, I almost missed him… the warlock.

He was several yards away, leaning against a tree. Dressed in the same black combat boots, ripped jeans and motorcycle jacket he’d worn the night of the wedding. He was watching me. His lips in a half grin, as if he had heard our conversation. Had he been listening? How long had he been there? Why was he here? This time, there wasn’t a wedding party full of people. There was only me. He was here watching me. Which meant he had been at the wedding to see me. Right?

I didn’t run from things. I wasn’t running from him. He had the answers I needed. If this mystery was going to be solved, then I had to speak to him. I started to take a step in his direction, but he was gone again.

THIRTEEN: THE BAR

Thirteen

The Bar

It wasn’t even five o’clock but for Duely it was always five o’clock somewhere. Beer was an anytime beverage for him. Walking into the bar he owned, and finding him leaned back in a chair with his feet propped up on a table, as he drank a longneck, was not surprising. It was typical and, honestly, a relief.