Page 37 of Witches and Wine
Dion squinted at me, calling me on my bullshit. “This isn’t about the woods, right? The maenads?”
He was making it increasingly difficult to suspect him of being a dickhead.
“No. Nothing is wrong. Really.” Heat surged up my neck, and I only prayed the color wasn’t showing on my skin.
Riley perked his head, turning it from me to Dion and letting out a tiny yip. I petted the length of his body to reassure him that everything was okay—for now.
“Okay, Chels. If you say so.” Dion lifted his palms and backpedaled. “Text me, yeah?”
Nodding again, far too vehemently, I gave him a thumbs up. A fucking thumbs. Up. Gods. “Will do.”
Dion smirked at my thumb, gave me one final look over, and ported away.
Sighing, I spun on my heel and flopped to the couch, slapping a hand on my forehead. “Riley, what do I believe? Did I bespell a Greek god? It soundsabsurd.”
As if trying to answer me, Riley stood on my shoulder and patted my forehead with his paws.
“I have no idea what that means, but thank you nonetheless, bud,” I said to my ferret, rubbing my face affectionately against his.
Grabbing my phone, I unlocked the screen and stared at the several text messages waiting unread—a couple from Elani, one from my dad, and one from Dion. I frowned and opened the one from Dion, curling my feet onto the couch beneath me.
Dion
Hey, gorgeous. I know you said you’re alright, but I wasn’t born yesterday. If it’s something to do with me, talk to me about it, yeah?
Just talk to him about it as if it was as easy as breathing.
Grumbling, I let my head fall onto the couch’s back and counted the ripples in my popcorn ceiling. What I needed right now more than anything was a distraction. Something else to divert my focus so I could come back to this particular chaos with a clear head. And what was the ultimate deterrent for one Chelsea Stewart in particular?
Work.
Opening a new text window, I feverishly worked my thumbs over the touch screen.
Me
Hello, Apollo. This is Chelsea Stewart. Are you ready to make a plan for success?
I bit my nails, waiting for his reply, and perked up when I saw the three dots bouncing as he typed.
Apollo
Wow. You even type like a PR specialist. You really are the real deal.
This distraction was already working and making me smile.
Me
I am nothing if not professional.
Apollo
LOL. Awesome. And yeah, let’s meet up tomorrow. There’s this new dive bar in the Cove I want to check out called The Crimson Crypt. Up for it?
A dive bar for a PR meeting? I supposed I’d met clients in odder places—the gym while they worked out, a public restroom, a hibachi grill.
Me
Perfect. Should we say four o’clock?
