He pressed his lips into a hard line, his gaze seeming to penetrate to her soul. She could practically hear the gears turning in his mind as he contemplated his answer. “I don’t know.”
She laughed dryly. “I suppose you don’t. The bathroom is at the end of the hall. If you’ll toss out your clothes, I’ll put them in the wash.”
He moved toward the bathroom, stopping just inside the door and turning to her. “I don’t remember how we met or what caused my amnesia, but honestly? I can’t imagine ever wanting nothing to do with you.”
He shrugged, the gesture addingand that’s the gods-honest truthto his statement before he closed the door.
“Heaven, help me.” She stood there in the hallway, her lips slightly parted. Or, hell, maybe her mouth hung open like a fish. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest, and the roiling in her stomach turned into flitting butterfly wings.
Why, in the name of the allfather, did that one simple sentence have the power to burrow deep inside her like this?
It wasn’t like he’d confessed his love and utter devotion to her, as if that were even possible. All he’d said was that he couldn’t imagine feeling animosity toward her. That didn’t mean anything, yet something in her soul insisted it did.
“Thank you.” The door cracked open, and Pete dropped a pile of clothes onto the floor before closing and locking it.
See, dummy? He locked the door. He doesn’t trust you after all. She scooped up the clothes and carried them to the washing machine. His sweater was ruined, but at least his t-shirt was still in one piece. She dropped the sweater into the machine and pressed his t-shirt to her nose, inhaling deeply.
He had an earthy scent with a hint of sweetness, like fresh-cut grass and jasmine, and she closed her eyes, letting it wrap around her. She swayed on her feet and opened her eyes.Get a grip, girl.
She tossed in the shirt and patted his pants pockets, hoping to find a wallet or phone or anything that could prove his identity to him. They were all empty. Did he really leave the fae realm empty-pocketed?
She poured in the detergent and set it to the quick-wash cycle when the doorbell rang.
“Shoot. The cakes.” She rushed downstairs and unlocked the front door to let Crimson inside. “I have them in the fridge. I just need to box them up.”
“No problem.” She followed Destiny through the storefront and into the kitchen. “I brought some of Mike’s clothes if he wants to change.”
“Thank you.” Destiny pulled a tray of mini angel food cakes from the fridge and added two dozen to a box.
“Mike is making his famous eggplant Napoleon.” Crimson laid the clothes on the counter and accepted the box. “See you in fifteen?”
“Gods willing.” She let her friend out the back door and returned upstairs.
The water shut off, so she padded down the hall and tapped on the door. “Pete? I’ve got some of Mike’s clothes for you to borrow until yours are ready.
The door swung open, and steam wafted into her face, blurring her vision for half a second. She blinked it back into focus, and this time, her mouth really did drop open. She snapped it shut and licked her lips, trying with all her might to keep her gaze on Pete’s face.
A lock of wet hair curled onto his forehead, and she tightened her grip on the clothes to stop herself from brushing it into place. She swallowed hard, and her traitorous gaze slid down all six feet of him.
Pecs, abs, a trail of soft hair disappearing into the towel wrapped around his waist. “Yum.”
He arched a brow. “Thanks?”
“Oh, dear lord. I don’t… I shouldn’t have…” She shoved the clothes against his chest and spun away. “I didn’t mean to say that.”Not out loud anyway.
“No worries.” He chuckled and clicked the door shut, and Destiny tipped her head toward the ceiling, wishing Gabriela would reach down and yank her into the repository. That file clerk job was looking better and better.
* * *
Pete put on the borrowed clothes and looked at himself in the mirror. The shirt fit okay, but the pants were too big in the waist. Shame they didn’t send over a belt too. He frowned at the sagging khakis, and his skin tingled with an odd magic.
He was used to the tingle that preceded the shift. When his rabbit wanted to take control, his entire body vibrated. This was different.
The tingle gathered in his abdomen, wrapping around to his back. He blinked twice, and suddenly, the pants fit as if they were tailored just for him.Odd, indeed.
He must have witch ancestry. There was no other explanation. Then again, witches generally had to cast spells or at least state their intention for their magic to work. His seemed to do its thing whenever it wanted to. Could he have fae blood? He didn’t feel anything within him except his rabbit, but it was obvious there was somethingotherinside him.
Also obvious was his attraction to the angel waiting outside the doorway. She was beautiful, yes, but what he felt for her ran soul deep. He was there, with her, for a reason. Goddess knew what it was, but he couldn’t deny it.
