Page 65 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

“So,” I echo.

There’s a beat. Then he leans in. It’s not rushed, but not uncertain, either. Just incredibly careful. Incredibly gentle.

His hand brushes lightly against my arm, like he’s giving me time to pull away, if I want to.

But I don’t.

His lips meet mine, soft and warm, the kiss brief but deliberate. When he pulls back, I’m a little breathless, my heart beating just a touch faster in my chest.

“You smell like cinnamon,” I tell him, before I can stop myself.

He laughs, low and surprised. “So do you.”

I smile, a little crooked. “An occupational hazard of dating you, apparently.”

“Did you like it?” he asks lightly.

“What? The kiss? The date? The overwhelming scent of cinnamon?”

“All of the above.”

“Hmm.” I tilt my head, pretending to consider. “Well,” I say slowly, stepping just a fraction closer, “the data’s still coming in, but . . .” I let my gaze flick briefly to his mouth, then back up to his eyes, “. . . but initial results are extremely promising.”

Theo’s own eyes travel to my mouth, but he makes no reply. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets and regards me with open interest.

“I’d like to analyse that data. What do you say we do this again sometime, and go over it together?”

It takes me exactly half a second to realize what he’s doing. He’s asking me out again, and not in a grand, dramatic kind of way either. Not with any kind of pressure. Just like this, easy and certain. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world that there would be a second time.

“Hmm,” I say, like I’m still considering, yet I already know the answer. We both already know my answer. “Well, if we’re being rigorous about it . . .” I glance past him briefly, checking for witnesses, then lean in just a little. “I suppose we should allow for a larger sample size.”

His lips twitch.

“For accuracy,” I add.

“Of course,” he agrees. “What sort of statistician would I be if I tried to draw conclusions from insufficient data?”

I nod, very serious. “So, we should meet again. For the sake of statistics.”

“Well, for that,” Theo agrees, before he steps closer to me, leaning in and whispering hotly in my ear. “But also because you look fucking incredible in that dress.”

There’s a pause, small, but charged, and then I meet his eyes properly.

“I’ll wear it again,” I say, softer now. “If you would like that.”

Something in his expression shifts. “I would like that,” he says, his voice still low, almost unbearably throaty. “I would like that a lot.”

“Okay,” I say, and then I reach up to run a hand down his cheek. He leans into my palm, and his skin is hot, the moment between us electric.

“Okay,” he agrees, before he leans down to kiss me again and—

Chapter Twenty-Three

With a jolt, Augustine came back to herself, falling into her own body and mind with a suddenness which was momentarily disorientating. All the blurred lines and borrowed feelings sat heavily within her, and she frantically surveyed the room, looking for Theo.

Who was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, the space he’d occupied was now empty, and the quiet of her shop stretched out in a way that echoed oddly. The disappointment was staggering, and Augustine closed her eyes.