The Only Purple House in Town (Fix-It Witches, #4)(50)
“Hmm. I do wonder what that was about. Do you think Hazel would know anything? I—oh.” Her phone beeped. “She just texted me! She wants to come over tomorrow.”
“I think you might’ve made a new best friend,” Eli noted.
It was sweet the way she collected people. On some level, maybe they sensed her innate goodness. She’d demonstrated it for him long ago, and the warmth he felt for her was only growing as he got to know her. Before, it had been gratitude and curiosity, and now—well, he refused to pin a name on these emotions.
“I could always use more friends,” she replied cheerfully. “Seems like she’s bringing fresh-baked corn muffins and homemade raspberry jam.”
“Tea or coffee, then?” He didn’t really care about the answer, but as Iris gave full consideration to the question, the unease he’d noticed disappeared.
Halfway to the house, the rain he’d seen coming earlier in the day broke, rolling thunder and snaps of lightning flashing far on the horizon. The rain fell in sheets, spattering the truck and pavement. He switched on the defrost to keep the windows from fogging up and set the wipers to the right speed. Iris didn’t seem to notice any of that, and by the time they got home, she’d decided that coffee would be best. “Tea is for tiny cakes and finger sandwiches, right? I’ll definitely make coffee for Hazel. I wonder if Sally will be home…”
“You should ask her,” he said, parking the truck behind Iris’s car.
Lights were ablaze in the house, golden rectangles of warmth that promised Sally and Henry Dale were there going about their business. That was an unexpectedly welcome realization, as his other properties were always dark—cool and inviolate spaces that offered silence and privacy. There were no baskets of knitting, no dog-eared paperbacks. Henry Dale had a collection of well-loved books, and he would read the same stories until the bindings fell apart. Already, Eli was planning to get him a collector’s edition copy of The Last Unicorn for Christmas.
If I’m still here by then. Briefly, he imagined the house covered in lights; he and Henry Dale would spend two days decorating, just to make it beautiful for Iris. Violet Gables would be a stately grand dame wreathed in snow, icicles dangling from the newly repaired gingerbread trim. Inside, the place would smell of sugar cookies and peppermint bark; something told him Sally would make all kinds of treats. All of that was a few months off, and he couldn’t stay here forever.
I can’t, right?
No. Not without telling Iris everything.
Iris bounded out of the vehicle before he could stop her, and she gaped up at the sky in sudden realization as the rain pelted down. He rounded the truck and pulled off his jacket, lifting it above her head. She didn’t argue; instead, they raced around the house together, as the front porch was still roped off from the work earlier. Both of them were drenched despite his best efforts by the time they came in through the mudroom behind the kitchen.
Eli kicked off his sneakers while Iris toed off her heels, tugging at her damp dress in little flutters. She was beautiful, even bedraggled like this, with water spangled on her skin like silvery sequins. He had a powerful urge to touch her, but he made himself step back instead of yielding to it, giving her a clear path into the house. But she didn’t move. She stared up at him with an expression that tugged at his heartstrings, an inexorable pull.
“I made hot tea,” Sally called.
Iris quickly shook her head, as if dismissing some strange thought, and her smile didn’t look as it usually did when she brushed past. “You’re a lifesaver!”
After hanging up his coat, Eli followed.
Sally smiled at him. “What would you like, my dear? The water is hot, and we’ve got apple cinnamon, lemon ginger, chamomile, and English breakfast.”
“Chamomile.” Lord knew he could use a calming drink right about then. “I’ll be right back. I need to put on some dry clothes.”
That wasn’t a lie, but the real truth was he needed a solitary moment to get his head in order. You’re not allowed to fall for her. That would be ridiculous under the circumstances. And yet she had so many endearing facets, so much that made it difficult not to—
He cut the thought with the sharpest of mental shears and continued onward up the stairs, ignoring the rise and fall of feminine voices as Iris and Sally chatted over tea. He pulled on warm socks, athletic pants, and a gray hoodie. Warm, comfortable clothing that should have felt like being enfolded in a hug, but the clothes didn’t do the trick. Truth was, he’d wanted to kiss Iris in the mudroom.
He still wanted that.
Oh hell. I’m in so much trouble.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
For once iris woke feeling energized and excited.
Business was picking up at the store—twelve orders today—and she was making friends. Even if Hazel was older, she still counted, not to mention Sally, Henry Dale, and Eli. Eh, best not to focus on Eli. He was altogether too sweet and hot for her own peace of mind.
The bathroom was free when she went down, so she took a quick shower and continued to the kitchen in her robe. She could hear Eli and Henry Dale working outside on the front porch, and Sally seemed to be gone already. Iris made toast for breakfast and took it upstairs along with her coffee. Today was overcast, just as yesterday had been, so it was cozy tucked beneath the eaves of the roof as she got to work sketching new designs.