Page 12 of Bewitched By the Siren
“That’s all you have to say?” I counter, arching a brow.
She goes quiet for a moment, then gives me a small smile. “If you’re interested in taking a deal, you should go for it. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. You’re so talented, Hals. You should share that talent with the world.”
“We both know why people love my music, Mom.”
My tone is impatient. This is an old argument. One she’ll never win.
“You’re selling yourself short. Even if you kept the necklace on, people would love you, honey,” she says.
Right on cue.
I sigh. “You have to say that because you’re my mom.”
“Of course, I do. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
I shake my head and push myself to my feet. I’m not getting into this with her again. Even if she’s right, and I could make it without using my siren gift, I’m never leaving her.
“I’d better get going. Don’t want to be late,” I say, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
“Have fun,” she says. “Text me if you’re going to stay the night.”
“Mom,” I chide, my cheeks heating, but she just laughs.
I shake my head at her, then give her a little wave before leaving the room. Grabbing my phone and keys, I step out onto my porch and lock the door behind me. There’s not really much crime on Circe Key, especially in the off-season, but I’m not taking any chances with Mom being here alone and unable to defend herself.
I take a couple of deep breaths, letting them out slowly to calm the jitters. I feel a bit ridiculous for being nervous. This isn’t a date, but if it were, it would be my first one in, well, forever. A couple of years, at least.
It’s hard to get close to people when you’re clinging tightly to a huge, life-altering secret.
I climb up the steps to Brendan’s porch, and the door opens before I even knock. He hits me with a wide smile that makes my breath catch in my throat, and I smile back to cover my reaction.
“Thank you for coming,” he says, stepping aside and stretching out an arm. “Come on in.”
Holy shit, it smells good in here. My stomach grumbles, and my mouth fills with saliva. I swallow quickly as I follow him into the small eat-in kitchen.
I take a seat at the table while Brendan opens two beers, pops a lime wedge into both, and coats the mouth of each bottle with salt. He walks over and sets them on the table, and I pick mine up and take a long swig as he grabs two plates filled with tacos. He sets one in front of me with a flourish, then takes his own seat and picks up his beer.
“This looks and smells amazing,” I say.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice humble. “I hope they taste as good as they smell.”
“Only one way to find out,” I say with a grin as I pick up one of the tacos from my plate.
He follows suit, holding his in the air while saying, “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I repeat, then take a big bite.
Oh, my God.My eyes roll back in pleasure as the flavors burst on my tongue. This is no basic fish taco. This is…art. Pure, inspired art.
“Good?” Brendan asks with a chuckle when he finishes chewing his bite and swallows.
I nod. “I think you missed your calling, becoming a talent agent. You should’ve been a chef.”
“High praise, indeed,” he says, taking another drink of his beer. “I do love to cook, but doing what you love doesn’t always pay the bills.”
“Chefs can make good money,” I counter before shoving what’s left of the taco into my mouth.
“That’s true,” he says. “But I was already working as an agent when I discovered my love for cooking. It’s just a hobby, really.”
