Page 23 of The Mechanics of Broomstick Racing

He returned to his work, head tilted down, but she could easily see that he was smirking. “The beer is local, and I might be avoiding a party, but you’re here and looking for me.”

“I was just—”

“Desperate?”

“Oh, look who’s funny now.” She moved further inside, swaying her hips until she realized Neil’s jacket completely hid the desired effect. She stole his drink instead, snatching away the nearly full bottle and taking a sip. With an easy bounce, aided by her magic, she jumped up to sit on a clear part of his workbench. “I hope I didn’t take your last beer.”

“That was my first beer, but enjoy it,” he said without looking up.

“I will, and don’t let me interrupt. Working overtime?”

“No, I’m relaxing.”

“This is exactly what you do for work. What’s the difference?”

“This,” Neil answered, lifting the husk of a clock. “This is from my presumed dead collection.”

“Now you sound like a necromancer.”

“People around town bring me things that can’t be fixed. For now.” He glanced at her quickly before refocusing on the clock. “I enjoy trying to prove them wrong.”

Was that why he bothered with her? Zephyr took a long swallow of beer. She added, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “You do love being right. This is definitely worth missing a bonfire for.”

Neil dropped the clock and sidestepped lazily, ending up in front of her. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the bench on either side of her legs. He trapped her slowly, giving her plenty of time to escape from him but acting as if she wouldn’t dare try.

For once, he was right, but he didn’t have to look so damned smug about it.

Neil smiled at her, not touching her but unable to stop electricity from flowing between them. “Zephyr, if you’re here, why would I leave?”

“Uh, s’mores?”

Neil snapped upright before throwing back his head and laughing. His hair was more auburn in the sunshine, Zephyr noticed. It looked so much darker now, in the harsh artificial light.

“Is that why you’re here? You want me to toast your marshmallow?” Neil asked.

“If that’s a euphemism, I have no idea what it could mean. And my imagination is great.”

He sighed before reaching forward to grab the zipper of her jacket, which was really his jacket. “Are you finally going to return this to me tonight?”

“Oh!” Zephyr nodded, wondering why she was so nervous. She didn’t get nervous around men. Ever. “Yes, that was the plan.”

“Really? You had a plan?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?” she snapped.

“It isn’t. But…” Neil unzipped the jacket halfway, revealing the red and black dress underneath. “Were you going to wear that home? Do you have another coat hidden on your person?”

That last question seemed genuine. She possessed a bag that could hold her entire closet if she wanted, and she hadn’t thought of that, hadn’t brought a backup coat at all. She’d assumed he’d walk her home, and then she could return the jacket. And Neil had guessed her assumption.

Well, he knew. Knew she had planned for them to end up at her house, whether it was for a simple goodnight kiss at her doorway or more. Yes, he knew, so there was no need to act shy now.

When she failed to answer, Neil gave the zipper a playful tug. “This dress isn’t exactly bonfire appropriate.”

“I don’t own any bonfire appropriate clothes, and you’re stalling,” she accused, though she was clearly projecting.

One side of his mouth quirked up. “That isn’t what I’d call it. I’m waiting.”

“For what?”