Other times, he found joy in the possibility that he saw more than Jennet could comprehend.
Jennet still didn’t look up from his paperwork, so Ambrose cleared his throat. “So, if you believe that those methods work, do you have another recommendation to slay the witch?”
“I do, actually,” his father agreed. “For now, monitor the witch while we make preparations. Don’t lose track of her, not if you can help it. We’d hate to have to chase her to another location, after all, so just… monitor.”
Ambrose gritted his teeth. Part of him wanted to tell his father it was a terrible idea—his strange attraction to Bobsy wasn’t getting any better by him continuing to be in proximity to her. He should tell his father of his problem, allow his father to assign another witch hunter to the case, remove himself from the situation altogether.
Aside from the fact that it was his first solo mission, the first time he could prove himself to the tribunal and the man who gave him a home when he had none and admitting defeat would make him look weak… he also didn’t want someone else monitoring Bobsy. He didn’t want to give up whatever strange pull she had over him.
Yeah, he was trying to kill her, but he also didn’t want to give her up.
It didn’t make sense, so he simply clamped his lips together and headed back to his room to prepare to continue monitoring.
Chapter 6
“People are going to think you’re weird,” Peter pointed out.
“People always think I’m weird,” Bobsy answered, scratching the cat’s head. She held him in her arms as she headed up the sidewalk toward the train station.
“You’re taking a cat on a train ride,” Peter pointed out. “No one does that.”
While it might be true, she just wasn’t confident going on yet another date alone. The last two ended far too strangely, and she wanted Peter there in case things went weird yet again… Maybe if he saw how odd things were going, he’d know what was happening, as she still hadn’t figured it out.
“They let me book it, and when I contacted them, they just said I held responsibility for my animal. Basically, if you jumped off the train and died, they wouldn’t accept responsibility for your demise. You’re not planning to jump off, right?” she asked him equitably.
“No,” he agreed. “But no one takes their cat on a first date, either. You’re going to be assumed as a crazy cat lady before he even gets to know you and realizes you’re crazy for other reasons.”
Bobsy stuck her tongue out at him. “Well, then perhaps I’m just giving him advance opportunity to bail.”
“He can’t, unless he jumps off the train himself,” Peter said. “Didn’t you say the train ride was like four hours?”
“Roundtrip, yes,” Bobsy agreed. “It looked really scenic, when I booked it online.”
In short order, Bobsy found herself seated in an open-air train car, Peter seated next to her, and waited for her date to arrive. “You don’t have to flop like a dead fish when you’re wearing a leash,” she told Peter, to hide her nerves.
“I do, actually,” Peter replied with much dignity. “I’m a cat, and cats don’t do leashes.”
“You aren’t a cat,” she reminded him. “You’re a familiar.”
“For the pride of cats everywhere, I must refuse to walk in this thing. If the humans saw one cat enjoying a leash, just imagine the future of catkind everywhere.” Peter shuddered delicately. “It just wouldn’t do.”
A man shoved his way onto the train car, scanning as if searching for someone. Bobsy immediately recognized Ambrose, and when he spotted her, she saw him sag in obvious relief.
“Uh oh,” she said aloud.
“Uh oh what?” asked Peter.
“Shh, he’s coming!” she said, slouching in her seat as if it would make her harder to find.
“Your date?” asked Peter in confusion.
But then he was there, peering down at her in irritation. “Where are you going?” Ambrose demanded.
“Nunya,” replied Bobsy, sitting back up. “As in none of your business.”
He sat in the seat facing hers with a grunt. “It is my business, actually. Are you trying to escape?”
“Escape what?” she asked, irritated into speaking yet again despite deciding literally a second before she’d spoken not to speak to him ever again. “It is a scenic ride, so it literally goes in a circle.”
Ambrose’s brow furrowed. “So, you’re not trying to escape?”
“Bobsy?” asked a kind and warm voice.
Bobsy looked up to see a handsome man, all neat and put together nicely, looking down at her. He had shoulders like Thor and long golden hair—he reminded her of that old romance novel model, actually. His eyes were a bright and clear blue, and his smile appeared as kind as his voice sounded.
“Hi, Calvin?” she said, one brow raised in question.
“Yep,” the guy responded. He cast a glance at Ambrose, who hadn’t moved from the seat facing hers. “You brought a friend?”
“No,” Bobsy replied. “Well, yes, the cat, but no, not the man.” She glared at Ambrose to further suggest he should scram.
“I’m just leaving,” Ambrose said, standing. Just then, the train lurched into motion and both men braced themselves by holding the seats.
“Or not,” Peter replied, then yawned widely.
“Who said that?” Ambrose asked, glancing around.
“Said what?” Bobsy said innocently.
Calvin glanced around the reasonably full train car, then focused on Ambrose. “Care to share a seat, friend?”
Ambrose shot Bobsy an annoyed look, then sat back down near the window. “Sure,” he said aloud. He proceeded to stare out the window grumpily, as if even the glorious scenery couldn’t lighten his mood.
Bobsy petted her cat and considered both men. Calvin was very handsome in a wholesome way that should’ve appealed instantly. His eyes were as kind as his smile and voice, and he kept shooting her little glances as if he liked what he saw.
Ambrose, on the other hand, looked annoyed, frustrated, unhappy and his shirt was untucked. He didn’t so much sit in his seat as slouch. His look wasn’t wholesome whatsoever—he appeared a little dangerous and possibly crazy. Plus, he’d pushed her into a pond and held a rock against her head, so she had excellent reasons to figure the crazy was more than skin deep.
Yet he appealed to her on some primal level. She still had the weird sense that she should recognize him, or that she knew him before they’d met at the park…
Why?
It wasn’t a thought that needed to be answered, she reminded herself in irritation. Ambrose didn’t matter, her possible true love did, so she needed to save all her ruminations about him for another day and focus on the task at hand.
“This train ride a really great idea, Zane, very romantic. I’m so glad we were able to fit it in your schedule, and it is nice to finally meet you in person.” Bobsy extended her hand toward him in greeting.
Zane took his hand in hers, then he cupped his other hand over their joined palms. “The pleasure is all mine. It’s been nice talking to you online for the past couple of days.”
Before Bobsy could answer, Ambrose snorted. “Kiss ass,” he muttered at a volume which he had to know they could both hear clearly.
“Pardon me?” said Bobsy, focusing on him. “You weren’t invited on this excursion, but since you’ve forced your presence upon us, the least you could do is be polite.”
She retrieved her hand from the cage of Zane’s hands discreetly, because although she’d corrected Ambrose for being a dick, it didn’t mean she wanted her hands fondled by a stranger.
Which was a dumb thing to think, as she was literally on a date with the hopes of eventually being fondled far more intimately, so why was she reticent at Zane’s touch?
And why didn’t she even slightly hesitate when Ambrose was near?
Maybe her radar was broken.
“It’s okay,” Zane said with a shrug, bringing her
attention back to him. “You two know each other, I’m guessing?”
“No,” said Bobsy at the exact moment that Ambrose said, “Unfortunately.”
Bobsy glared at him. “I don’t know why it is unfortunate to you, as I’m the one who keeps having to deal with your weirdness.”
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, to glare at her. “I wonder why that might be?”
“I honestly have no clue,” Bobsy replied, leaning forward herself to face off with him. She wasn’t known for being one to back down from a fight. “Care to explain?”
Zane cleared his throat. “Do you guys need a minute? I could go to the restroom and—”
“No,” said Bobsy, but Ambrose responded at the same time again with a very adamant, “Yes.”
“I’m just going to give you two a minute or two, then I’ll be right back so we can get better acquainted, Bobsy. You want a drink or anything while I’m up?” Zane smiled at her as she stood and, yet again, she was struck with how very beautiful this particular male specimen was. Built like a bodybuilder, face of a hero… he was delicious.
“No,” she said, and she could feel her cheeks burning with nerves. “Thank you, though.”
“No problem. Back in a sec,” he said and walked toward the end of the train car. A few women’s heads—and a couple men’s—swiveled to watch his progress. Bobsy couldn’t blame them—his ass was like an exclamation point of awesome.
Ambrose snapped his fingers in front of her face.
She turned to him in irritation. “I swear to whatever gods might be listening, if you mess up this date for me, I will turn your manmeat into a cucumber.”
“Can you do that?” Ambrose asked, looking fascinated instead of terrified.
“Do you want to find out?” she asked.
“Why do I not find you utterly disgusting?” he asked, answering her question with one of his own.
Bobsy opened and closed her mouth a couple times, unsure how to respond. “I don’t find you disgusting, either,” she finally admitted honestly, deciding to save being offended for another time. “But I should, since you have just been an utter shit since I met you.”
“Want to do a lightning round?” he asked, one brow arching above his lovely amber eyes.
“A what?” Bobsy asked, confused.
“I ask a question, you answer, then we switch. Lightning round. Questions must be simple, like yes or no, and you have to answer honestly.” Ambrose tilted his head quizzically. “Are you in?”
“Why does it feel like we’ve had this conversation before?” Bobsy asked.
“I don’t know, but I feel that way, too,” Ambrose answered. “My turn—are you a witch?”
Bobsy glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying them much attention. “Yes,” she said simply. “How did you know?”
“I was sent to kill you,” Ambrose answered. “Why didn’t the water kill you?”
“You were trying to kill me?” she asked.
“It isn’t your turn to ask a question,” he replied.
“You’re not good at it, which is heartening, at least. Why would water kill me?” She held up a finger before he could protest. “That’s my answer, actually. Water doesn’t hurt me, but I have no clue why you think it would, so that is my answer.”
“Water kills witches,” Ambrose explained. “Why do I want to touch you?”
She blinked at him, then simply shook her head. “It isn’t your turn to ask a question. Why do you seem so familiar? I would swear we’ve never met, but…”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” he answered and then shoved a hand through his hair. “I feel as if neither of us are playing with a full deck, like someone took cards away, and neither of us knew it before we started.”
Bobsy nodded, leaning forward in her seat again. “That’s how I feel! Like, at first it was really confusing to me, as I hate it when I read a book and people are fated mates or whatever—like they recognize their mate, you know? But you kept being weird, and I still kept feeling like I knew you, or should know you, or…”
“Same,” Ambrose admitted. “Give me your hand?”
“Why?” she asked, instantly on full alert. “Are you going to try to kill me again?”
He snorted. “Not today.”
He hadn’t promised he wouldn’t at all, just today, and she appreciated his honesty. Also, her gut, which never let her down before, said she could trust him… despite him admitting he intended to kill her. Also, if she were being utterly honest herself, she had to admit he didn’t scare her.
She’d saved the world twice, so she was pretty sure she could take on one man without even breaking a magical sweat.
“You done thinking about it?” he asked.
“Don’t rush me,” she answered.
“Your boyfriend will be back any minute, so if you could decide already—”
She shoved her hand at him, palm out as if in a stop gesture. Instead of taking her hand in his own, as she thought he might, he placed his palm flat against hers.
The connection was instant, the resonating sense that they’d done this before stronger than it had been in all their prior exchanges. His hand against hers felt familiar, safe, and the gesture seemed to be a repetition of something they’d once done rather than a new experience.
“I hate fated mate stories,” she told him abruptly, hoping to hide her sudden breathlessness. “So if that is where this is going, count me out, Duckboy.”
His smile was slow and warm, and he curved the tips of his fingers down as if measuring the length of his hand verses hers. “Why would I want to be mated to a witch? Also… isn’t mating something dogs do, rather than people?”
Light began to pulse around their joined hands, a warm glow of gold that made Bobsy tremble. “Why is it doing that?”
He jerked his hand back, glaring at his palm before giving her the meanest mean mug possible. “Were you casting some kind of spell on me?”
She bristled at the accusation in his tone. “Like I’d waste the energy on you?”
The response was defensive, but they both sat breathing hard and glaring at each other for long moments.
“Hey, I’m back!” said Zane and they both spun to look at him.
“Hi,” Bobsy said at the same moment that Ambrose said, “Bye!”
He stood, giving a courteous little bow before heading to the back of the car. “You two have a lovely time. Do you like cucumbers, Zane?”
“They’re okay, why?” the golden god answered.
Ambrose just smirked and vanished into another one of the train cars with an easy gait.
“That guy is weird,” Zane admitted as he sat across from her.
“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” Bobsy agreed. Her gaze strayed again in the direction where Ambrose had exited, but she decided he was a problem for another day.
“So, as we were saying, it is really nice to meet you in person,” she began, trying to ignore her absolute lack of interest in the first eligible and not crazy man she’d met on one of these dates. Surely, if she just forgot about all the weirdness with Ambrose, she could have a nice time, possibly forge a forever kind of connection.
It would, after all, be far more preferable to whatever strange reaction she had to the guy who openly admitted he was trying to kill her.
Chapter 7
Bobsy found herself in a mall, surrounded by a flow of people she didn’t know or recognize. The mall seemed familiar, but then again… it was a mall. They all pretty much looked the same.
The strange thing was she didn’t remember going to a mall, or why she’d decided to go shopping, or anything else other than popping into existence in an atrium food court of a mall.
A fountain nearby trickled merrily, so she sat alongside it on the pretty blue tile surrounding the water. Inside the water, she could see coins glinting—copper, silver, even a couple that looked bronze. Wishes, she thought. That’s why there were coins in the fountain—people had made wishes.
O
ne coin caught her eye, though. A black coin with red printed on the side facing toward her. Through the moving water, she couldn’t quite make out the design, but she figured it was one of those plastic promotional coins, or something from the nearby arcade, yet it…
Fascinated her. A compulsion to reach down and grab it struck her so hard, her heart raced a little with the craving. She needed to get that coin, to hold it and investigate it closer. She reached down, fingers slipping easily enough into the cool blue water. She’d almost reached the coin when someone touched her other arm.
“Hey, babe, what are you doing?”
Bobsy turned to face Ambrose, saw his face crumpled in concern. “Hi,” she said automatically, then tried to figure out why it didn’t feel weird to see him in this space.
He looked like the Ambrose who’d pushed her in the duck pond. The same Ambrose who held a rock to her head and who had admitted he was trying to kill her… but he also didn’t look like the same Ambrose. This Ambrose didn’t look conflicted whatsoever about his reaction to her.
This Ambrose just called her “babe.”
“I got us a couple bubble teas from the shop over there. Is there something in the fountain?” He glanced over her shoulder as he passed her one of the teas he held.
“Yeah,” she said, ignoring her confusion for a moment and turning back to the coin. “There’s a weird coin in the fountain.”
“Want me to get it for you?” he asked, setting down his tea on the side of the fountain. He proceeded to roll up his sleeves, but she stopped him by placing her palm on his arm.
“Ambrose?” she said, trying to make sense of it all.
“Yeah?” He leaned closer to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “What’s up?”
The move was so casual, so comfortable and familiar, she cupped his face in response. Without the slightest hesitation, he leaned into the touch then bent closer to brush his lips against hers in the lightest of kisses.
Love and Other Calamities Page 5