Persie Merlin and the Witch Hunters - Bella Forrest Page 0,14

given Persie the respect she deserved, but I knew that wasn’t enough for her; she was always looking for another challenge.

Genie laughed. “McCarthy’s just trying to get free labor. If he had to do it himself, he’d snap the mop between his beefy mitts.”

“So poetic.” I smiled, gesturing toward my study. “Now, can I interest either of you in a cup of tea? I was just about to put the kettle on. I think I have some shortbread somewhere, too, if you haven’t eaten yet?”

“You’ve been in Ireland too long,” Genie teased. “But I’d take a coffee, if you’re brewing some. And I could murder some proper biccies, if you’ve got any? Look at me, picking up the lingo! Aren’t you proud?”

She knew full well that I had coffee, and that I drank far too much of it. During most of our encounters, I had a novelty mug in one hand. As for her newfound love of colloquialisms… well, it was unbearably charming.

“I have custard creams and chocolate hobnobs,” I said, feeling a little flustered.

She smirked. “Hobnobs? That can’t be a real thing. You’re pulling my leg.”

“I assure you, they are very real. They’re oaty, chocolatey biscuits—sorry, cookies. I think you’ll like them.” I turned to Persie. “Anything for you?”

“Tea sounds good, with milk and sugar.” She grinned, a peculiar look in her eyes. As if she knew something I didn’t, and was having a secret, inner monologue about it. I could almost see her lips moving.

I all but sprinted for my study to give myself a moment of quiet to compose myself. I liked to think of myself as a competent man who could socialize with the best of them, and I’d even been known to make a decent job of flirting when the fancy took me. However, since Genie had burst into my life, my tongue was forever tangling itself in knots and my complexion never failed to give me away. It was the fate of the Irish to turn red in the sun and, apparently, in embarrassing situations with women they found attractive.

Ten minutes later, I emerged with a tea tray and carried it over to the small sitting area by the window, which was nothing more than a circular table with four armchairs around it. Genie and Persie had already made themselves at home, their hushed discussion coming to an abrupt end as I appeared. I didn’t want to call myself paranoid, but it seemed likely I’d been the topic of conversation. Ignoring it, I distributed the beverages and snacks and took a seat, glad to be off my feet for a moment.

“No offense intended, but don’t you two have anything more exciting to do on a Friday night?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.

Genie raised an irreverent eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Uh… I don’t know, watching movies with your classmates?”

Persie chuckled. “Genie doesn’t like to. She says everyone always talks through it, so she can’t enjoy it.”

“I understand completely.” I didn’t watch movies often, but when I did, I liked to know what was going on. “My mum was the worst for that. She’d ask endless questions about things I couldn’t possibly know the answers to, and then fall asleep halfway through. At least I got to watch the end in peace.”

Genie shrugged. “Exactly, who needs that? Besides, it’s nice here.” She gazed out the window for a moment, where the sea thrashed beneath the setting sun, and then snapped back to the present. “If you don’t get enough social interaction, you might try having a tea party with the monsters. Really, we’re helping you out.”

“Ah, I see.” I laughed, wishing she would turn to look at the sunset again. “Is this a secret mission Victoria has given you?”

“Maybe,” she replied, her slate gray eyes glittering.

I pretended to sigh. “And here I was, thinking you visited because you liked my company.”

Her eyelids flickered subtly, her smile fading. “You’re not so bad.”

Really? It wasn’t much in the way of a compliment, but coming from her, it was akin to a shower of praise. That was part of the endless tug-of-war that forged our relationship—the push and pull of jokes and quips, interspersed with the occasional kind word or unexpected sentiment that slackened the rope.

I decided to change the subject, in case Persie felt awkward. “Speaking of parties and mums, how are you both feeling about the family extravaganza next month? It’s always a wonderful occasion.” These family weekends took place biannually—halfway through and at the conclusion