“Wow. That early, huh?”
I sat at the little vanity desk I never used so I could prop the phone up on the shelf that was probably intended for skin care products or something. Thank you, Ivy House, for making sure I didn’t need any. Not that I’d use stuff like that, anyway. Beauty was such a hassle. I’d rather not bother.
“Yeah, I’ll probably have to keep different hours for training for the week,” I said.
“Assuming it is just a week.”
“Don’t remind me. My mother had very little to say about the time frame, and my dad just grumbled about the new toilet. They’re playing it off like this is our substitute Christmas celebration, since I didn’t get down to them this year. Don’t worry, the clam dip and deviled eggs weren’t touched. You can try them when you come for dinner tonight.”
He laughed again, sounding more buoyant and carefree than usual. “Yeah, your mom cornered me yesterday with the invite. It was like she didn’t hear me when I said I’d probably have to work. She just kept telling me what time it would be.”
“She didn’t hear you. She doesn’t often listen to the answers to her questions. Then she delightedly asks the questions two or three more times because of it.”
“What are we having?”
I put the brush down and used my fingers to shake my hair out. “I don’t know. It depends on who wins the fight between her and Mr. Tom. Of course, she won’t know it is a fight, and that will enrage him. There was already a scuffle regarding breakfast.” I told him about my mom trying to get Mr. Tom’s cape so she could wash it. By the end, Austin was bent over laughing.
“Classic.” He wiped his eyes. “I might be around more this week. This is some good entertainment.”
I laughed and shook my head, picking up the brush again. “You only say that because you won’t have to be the referee.”
“Yes, exactly. Hey, listen…” His voice drifted away as he watched the brush glide through my hair.
“What?”
His eyes fluttered. “What?”
I stopped brushing for a moment, leaning toward the phone. “What’s with you this morning? Has the idea of buying a winery gotten you all squirrelly or something?”
His smile faltered and an uncomfortable expression crossed his face. Apparently not.
“I was just wondering…” He scratched his temple before moving through his room, the camera showing the light brown stubble on his chin. The image bounced as he set down the phone, and when it settled, I found myself staring at his chest. The urge to take a screenshot was strong. “Edgar is working on translating a part of the book that should allow you to set magical snares.” To everyone’s surprise, Edgar had been chosen to translate a book that acted as instruction for my magic. He had to but (laboriously) read a passage and the knowledge for that spell blossomed in me as though I’d known it all along. “He’s not exactly sure what those snares might do when triggered—blow someone up, rip off a leg, sound an alarm, discreetly let you know someone has tracked through them… Can you squeeze some training in to go over it? By the way, what’s the status with his flowers? I forgot to ask when I spoke to him earlier.”
I stopped working the brush through my hair for a moment. His muscles lengthened and contracted as he pulled a beige shirt down over his abs.
“I can get a training in, yeah, but are you serious?” I finally asked. “You suddenly have an interest in Edgar’s flowers?”
He bent until his face took up my view once again, his smile infectious. “Think I’ve gone native?”
“I don’t think I’d be able to handle it if you turned as weird as that vampire.”
He laughed. “I want to know if he’s found out what’s eating them. I haven’t smelled anything suspicious around the property, but I want to make sure the flower prowler poses no threat.” He bent until I saw the top of his head.
“You put your shirt on before your pants?” I asked, unable to help it. Watching his morning routine fascinated me.
“Yeah, don’t you?”
“No, pants before shirt. Though I usually start with panties, then a bra, then pants. Since you don’t have a bra, I suppose it makes sense to go from underwear to a shirt, then on to pants… I can see that. If you put your underwear on before the shirt, that is.”
His eyes found mine from beneath thick black lashes. He didn’t speak for a moment, but then he straightened up, his shirt bunching as he brought his hands up to secure his pants. “I’ll be shifting today, probably a few times. I’m free-balling it. One less thing to keep track of.”
My face heated and I looked away, back to brushing my hair. “No purple sweats?”