Page 23 of Hexed & Hazy

“Sorry. I have a lot to catch up on this weekend. Personal stuff.”

“Right.” She turns away. “Personal. I get it.”

And though I would usually expect her to come in with a couple of follow-up questions, she doesn’t.

Chapter 9

Rowan

I slip into the seat across from Seth. “Tell me the name and contact information of everyone you’ve dated recently.”

He jumps, his eyes wide.

Seth takes his lunch break at the same time every day, always right in the café—something I know from the times when I stop by for a quick sandwich and coffee. He shouldn’t be looking at me with so much shock, but he is.

I remain unflinching, waiting.

“What a greeting.” He laughs and runs his fingers through his perfectly tousled dark hair. A soft beam of golden sunlight illuminates his dark eyes, transforming them into amber. “What counts as recently, anyway?”

The simple movement would usually sway me in some direction, a direction I don’t particularly want to go in—with thoughts of his fingers, of running my hands through his hair, of gazing at him as he⁠—

No. Not again.

I click my pen and look down at my brand-new midnight-blue notepad, one I bought specifically for my hex studies. “It’s almost as though you don’t want to be rid of this hex.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Then”—I flip open to a fresh page—“I require names. Whom have you dated?”

Truthfully, there are already a few names I could add to the list myself. I’ve seen him around with multiple people—witches and otherwise—but I would rather work with facts than assumptions when it comes to such a serious matter.

He shifts in his seat. “Can’t we do this later? I have to get back to work in twenty minutes.”

I glance around the shop. “Then you have plenty of time to give me a few names.”

Farrah Poole is dutifully attending to the few customers in line, while a few patrons relax, enjoying their drinks. They could overhear, sure, but he shouldn’t be so worried. It’s not as if I’m one of my loudmouth sisters. As much as Seth might hope for a little privacy, I have a busy schedule, too. I’m skipping my lunch to fit him in between two of my more demanding clients.

“I guess…”

I lower my voice accordingly and give him a pointed look. “Perhaps you don’t need my help after all? You’re pleased to let it run its course?”

Doubt it. Seth has never been particularly patient.

I press my fingers into the table and move as though I’m about to stand, but his hand covers mine. I’m frozen; he’s fire.

My breath catches as his warm eyes meet mine.

“Ro. I do. I need you.”

How many times have I daydreamed about him saying exactly that?

I shake my head. They’re never thoughts I allow myself to linger on for long, and for good reason. Namely, the list of people we’re about to compile. Seth can, and has, done better. I’m not his type. I’ve always known that. He likes cool, confident, attractive, talented women. I have my uses, but I’m not any of those things. There’s a reason that, historically speaking, he’s hardly looked at me as a friend.

Lately, I think we’ve become closer friends, but I still worry if he would have me around at all if not for the hex and other magical, practical reasons. I know better than to read into his pretty words.

I yank my hand away from his, and his fingers twitch, resting on the table.

“Then… the list, please.” I write his name at the top of the page and underline it, looking up at him expectantly. “This shouldn’t take too long, right?”