She reached for the bottle, clearly marked with Branna’s Dark Witch label. “I hope this helps Mick. He’s been miserable the last couple days.”
“Less if he’d taken his medicine sooner.”
“I guess swallowing witch potions makes some people nervous.”
“He’ll swallow this, if I have to personally hold his nose.” Boyle slipped the bottle in his pocket. “I wanted to say, while there’s a moment, it meant something before, the way you stood up for Fin.”
“Being excluded hurts, just like being blamed for what you are hurts. I can understand Branna’s feelings, but my instincts are to trust him, and I get tripped up when I go against my instincts. Sometimes when I go with them, too.”
“Speaking out as you did, it mattered. So . . .” He shifted his feet. “We’ll go have dinner sometime.”
“Oh?” Her heart grinned like an idiot, but she did her best to keep her smile polite. “All right.”
“I prefer doing the asking. Whether or not that’s old-fashioned, it’s how it is.”
“Good to know. My social calendar’s pretty clear.”
“Then we’ll book something. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He started out, got halfway to the door, turned back.
This time Iona was ready for the grab, and grabbed him back.
She loved the way he hauled her to her toes. It didn’t make her feel small. It made her feel wanted. The reluctance in it only added a sexy edge. Everything about the kiss, the heat of his lips, the strong grip of his hands made her feel irresistible.
And that was a heady sensation, a powerful thrill.
He kept meaning to take it slow with her, if at all. He’d taught himself control, learned—for the most part—to balance heat and temper with cool-headed thinking and logical steps.
Yet here he was again, wrapped around her, wrapped up in her. And it was God’s own truth, he just wanted to sink there, be there, and draw all that natural sweetness, that cheerful energy in.
And with it, he wanted his hands on all those pretty curves and dips, his mouth on that smooth skin. That surprisingly tough little body moving, moving, moving under his.
She clung another moment when he would’ve pulled back, and nearly undid him.
“Well then,” he managed, and ordered his hands back down by his sides. Then, safer yet, into his pockets.
She just stood there, her pretty eyes heavy, her lips curved and so soft. So soft he wanted to—
“You could come back, after you take Meara home. You could drop Fin off and come back. Then you could take me to work in the morning.”
“I . . .” The idea of it, a night with her, had every need inside him threatening to boil over. “I’m thinking with Branna and Connor in the house that would be awkward at best. And there’s the matter of rushing the fences.”
“You want dinner first.” Her smile perked up when she clearly saw he didn’t get the joke. “That’s fine. I think it’s simpler to be clear, from my side, that when it’s not awkward or rushed, I want to be with you. It’s not that I take sex lightly, it’s that I don’t.”
“You’re a puzzle, Iona. I’d like to figure more of you out.”
“That’s nice. I don’t think I’ve ever been a puzzle to anyone before. I think I like it.” She rose on her toes again, brushed his lips lightly with hers. “I’ll help you fit some of those pieces together if I can.”
“I’ll work on it in my own time. In the morning then.”
“Okay. Good night.”
She locked up behind him, watched through the rain as he strode to his truck. And did a little dance in place as she watched the lights sweep, then move away through the dark.
She puzzled him, and wasn’t that wonderful? Iona heart-on-her-sleeve Sheehan, the girl who too often blurted out her thoughts before they’d fully formed, puzzled Boyle McGrath.
Talk about power. Talk about wonder.