100% That Witch - Celia Kyle Page 0,50
out creepy, because looking at him in the dying glow of the sunset did things to her insides. The high man-bun he usually wore had disappeared in favor of his thick brown locks falling to his shoulders in gleaming waves that begged for her fingers to bury deep into them. His lush beard looked freshly trimmed, and thankfully missing the tiny flowers that had dotted it when they first met. He’d chosen a fine black long-sleeve shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans, which almost surprised Tiffany, until she spotted the hand-embroidered birds and bunnies in pastel thread decorating the lapels and cuffs.
“Your handiwork, I presume?” she asked. His response was a grin.
“Shall we?” Nero opened the door for her, and she paused in surprise.
The last time she’d met a man at a bar, he was waiting inside, already halfway through a drink. The small courtesy warmed her. It was a nice contrast with the previous indignity.
The whole place glowed with a rarefied light. Part of De Marnac’s thing was that it was lit entirely with open flame. It produced a hazy, romantic quality that prickled directly into all the soft spots Tiffany tried to pretend she didn’t have.
“Here,” Nero said from behind her, “let me take your coat.”
Well, whoever said chivalry was dead?
He slipped it easily from her shoulders and handed it to a dour-looking elderly warlock manning the coat check. They had a coat check! Lord, what had she been thinking? Even one drink would seriously throw off her carefully planned budget.
“Welcome.” They were accosted by a well-dressed man with shoulder-length hair and a trim beard. “Will we be dining this evening?”
“Drinks, I think,” Nero said, looking down at Tiffany for confirmation. “Starting simple.”
“Of course.” With a nod, the warlock turned and led them to a cozy table by a fireplace. The evening wasn’t particularly chilly, but Tiffany was glad for the fire as she caught view of the table. Before she could help herself to a chair, Nero drew one back, and raised an eyebrow in invitation.
She actually found herself caught up for a second. She couldn’t be sure, but this felt like the only time in her life anyone had ever pulled out her chair for her. Nero’s Beloved had better thank her lucky stars!
“What will the lady be drinking this evening?”
“Ummmm…” She froze. Their host proffered a drink menu, but nothing had prices next to it, which was always the kiss of death. Her heart dropped like a stone into the pit of her stomach.
“We’ll have the Sanguine Valley Chardonnay. Don’t you think, Tiff?” Nero was the picture of confidence, and Tiffany swallowed hard, knowing the price for such a fancy bottle must be outrageous.
“Very good.” And their host was gone.
“Don’t worry,” Nero said with a wink. “It’s organic.”
Tiffany let out a bark of laughter and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. Given what she knew about him, it seemed only fitting he would want the wine that suited his personal standards.
“I’m afraid I might not be the most apt pupil after a glass of wine, much less half a bottle.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he teased cryptically. “Now, how have you been since your little, um…”
His insinuation hung in the air between them, and she knew exactly what he was alluding to. It had been curling under her skin since being left like a child in The Wicked Bean. He seemed genuinely curious and concerned without a trace of the pity that made her squirm in discomfort.
“I’ve been okay,” she lied—though as the words left her lips, she realized she wasn’t actually lying. The first few days had been rough, but she’d bounced back pretty quickly. “Honestly, I think I just wanted to want somebody. You know? All my friends were hooking up with the loves of their lives, and there was poor Tiffany, always alone.”
“That makes sense.”
“You know the funny thing? When it turns out there’s no actual relationship to begin with, the grieving process is pretty damn short.”
Nero laughed, and he didn’t bother to stifle it. It was full and genuine, drawing eyes from across the well-appointed room. As Tiffany stole a look around, she saw the peering faces wore faint smiles. Clearly, this charming, laid-back vampire had a way of bringing out the best in everyone.
“Excuse me.” Their host was back, presenting Nero with the bottle, balanced over his forearm in a way that would have been ridiculous if he hadn’t been so committed to the gesture.
“Let the