Page 83 of Chasing Shelter

I wanted to junkpunch Jasper…whatever the hell his last name was so badly my hands fisted. I pulled in a slow breath, trying to ease my anger because Trace didn’t need that right now. Once I was a little steadier, I took a step closer. Then another.

I didn’t stop until I stood between Trace’s legs—so close I could feel his breath on my face. So close I could smell the sandalwood andblack pepper. So close my skin warmed, thanks to the heat wafting off Trace in waves.

I lifted my hands and skimmed them over his face. “Let him go.” My fingers ghosted over Trace’s forehead, then his cheeks. “He has no place here.”

I expected Trace to close his eyes, but he didn’t. He kept them locked on my face as I moved. My fingertips skimmed across his face again, trying to clear away the demons that had caught hold.

“Some part of me believes you. Because you’re magic,” Trace rasped.

“Good,” I whispered. “Not afraid to use a little witchcraft to banish evil.”

Trace lifted his hand and trailed his thumb across my lower lip as if memorizing the swell. “Maybe I’m the one under your spell.”

My heart hammered against my ribs as I leaned into his touch. The rough pad of his thumb sent shivers sparking across my skin. “Somehow, I don’t think you can bend to the will of a little ole spell.”

Trace tracked his thumb across my lip, first one way and then the other. “Doesn’t feel like that. Feels like every ounce of resolve I have is crumbling.”

Blood roared in my ears and pounded at my pulse points. “I know the feeling.”

He leaned closer—so close our breaths mingled in the space between us. “Ready to tip those scales?”

I opened my mouth to answer, to say “yes,” to say, “fuck the man-ban.” I needed to know what it felt like to have Trace touch me.Reallytouch me.

“Daddy?” a sleepy voice sounded from the top of the stairs.

I jerked away from Trace’s sorcery, nearly falling on my ass in the process. Trace caught my elbow and kept me upright, which only made it worse. His fingers scalded, even through the sweater covering my arm.

“I’m home, Keels,” he called.

“Can you tuck me in again?” she mumbled.

“On my way.” Trace turned pained eyes to me and moved inagain, pressing his lips to my temple and letting them hover there for a beat. “Guess it’s the witching hour.”

“I guess so.” My voice was barely audible as need pulsed through me in angry waves.

“Text me the second you’re home. Lock the door behind you.”

“Got it, Chief.”

“Killing me, Blaze.”

I looked up into those beautiful eyes, the green so dark it almost looked black. “Good.”

And then, I was gone.

“Maybe I’mthe one under your spell.”

The words tumbled around and around in my head as I opened the doors to the old shed Mrs. Henderson had left in the backyard, the afternoon sun warming the cool fall air. As a bleating sound came from behind me, I winced. I hoped she wouldn’t mind what I was about to do. But I’d replace the shed if I needed to. For now, my goat friend needed somewhere to spend her nights until Trace’s place was ready.

Just thinking his name sent the words swirling in my mind again.“Maybe I’m the one under your spell.”

As if to knock some sense into me, Goaty—as I was calling her until I came up with something better—headbutted my leg. My hand dropped to give her a scratch as Gremlin chased imaginary butterflies. “I know, I know. Focus on the now.”

I studied the shed and looked down at the article I’d pulled up on my phone.So, You Got a Goat: a 10-Step Guide.“Well, I’ve got the hay, at least.”

I got to work hauling out the few remaining gardening supplies and piling in the hay I’d purchased from Feed & Friends that morning, along with the best goat feed I could find and bright pink pails for Goaty. And I did it all while trying to ignore those words circling.“Maybe I’m the one under your spell.”And the feeling of Trace’s thumb on my lower lip.

“We’re not being dumb girls, Goaty.”

---