you to leave me alone.”
“Did you really expect me to obey you?” was his mocking reply. “I see you made it home.”
“No thanks to you,” I spat. “Do you often get your kicks out of terrifying women in the woods?”
“Only special ones.”
I doubted he meant that as a compliment. “How did it feel being shot?”
Either he was a pro actor or he suffered from genuine surprise. “I wasn’t shot. A few bruises and scratches, but no holes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think I’d notice. Why do you keep asking? Did you have more trouble?”
“Only someone trying to Molotov my house. But I took care of them.”
“I see.” He said nothing more.
“Care to take off your shirt and prove it wasn’t you?”
He grinned. “Why, Naomi, if you want me naked, you could just say so.”
Part of me totally wanted to tell him to strip, but I was still mad at him. Suspicious, too. “Explain again how you ended up following me last night. Where did you go after you left me?”
“Home.”
“Sure, you did. Why are you here?”
“I don’t know,” was his annoyed admission.
“Since you have no reason to be here, then leave. You know where the door is.” I pointed.
“If only I could go and not return. Apparently, I enjoy your abuse.” His lips quirked. Before I could retort, he glanced to my windows. “I trust you’re pleased with Brigda’s work. If not, let me know and I’ll have it fixed.”
“Changing the subject?”
“It seems pointless to continue. You are convinced I am a liar. So be it. I don’t need you to like me.”
“Good because I don’t.”
“Of course you don’t.” He smirked, and a dimple popped up in one cheek. Kane could not have a dimple.
“I meant what I said before about paying for the repairs.”
“Forget about it.”
“If you insist,” I said too sweetly. If he wanted to foot the bill, let him.
“Your circle needs some work.” He stood on the edge of the one I’d painted on the floor and cocked his head.
“What would you know about circles?”
“Enough.” He glanced at me. “More than you.”
“It’s magic, isn’t it?” I might not like Kane, but he had seen the same things I had the previous night. Had some answers.
“Magic. Power. There are all kinds of names people use.” He crouched and ran his fingers over the painted marks.
“Despite what everyone thinks, my grandmother never taught me how to be a witch.”
“Are you sure of that?” He stood, a looming presence that I refused to cower before.
“I am pretty sure I’d remember if she ever taught me to cast a spell.” My sarcasm dripped.
“Oh, she taught you. But I’m beginning to think you were never supposed to recollect.”
“I remember everything.” There were no gaps in my memories.
“No, you don’t because otherwise you’d realize just what was done to you during her attempt to circumvent fate.”
“My grandmother never abused me!” I hotly huffed.
“No, she did worse. She took your heritage, your legacy, from you. She thought you far enough away to be safe. But you came back,” he stated softly.
“You talk as if you knew her.”
“I did. And before you ask, no, she didn’t like me.” His grin had a wolfish hint with a bit of devilish charm.
“She always did have good taste.”
This time he outright laughed. “It’s a pity you are who you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that there is no way of stopping what is to come. What you’ve done, I’ve done, will only delay the inevitable.”
“You think I’m going to die.”
“I know you’re going to die.” Oddly, it sounded less a threat and more a sad truth.
“I’m not some weakling.” I held up my hands. “You saw me last night. I can do magic.”
“Too little, too late. You’re not the woman your grandmother was.”
The comparison stung. My tone turned quite frosty. “Other than being an asshole, is there a reason you came to my store?”
“Isn’t that what stalkers do?” He threw my accusation at me. “I told you before I like old things.”
“I’m not interested in your money.”
“Are you really going to turn down business?”
My inner business self struggled with my womanly half. Cold logic won. “What would you like to buy?” I swept a hand.
“How about those books?” He waved at the trio on my counter.
“Sorry, but they already belong to someone.” I tucked them out of sight.
“Then the ring in the window.”
My heirloom.
“It’s not for sale.”
“Then why display it?”
“It’s meant to act as décor and to draw people in.”
“You admit to false advertising.”
“Would you feel better if I put