The roar of the powerful engine rung in her ears and Joanne’s heat leapt in her throat. He was back already? She dusted her muddy hands off, and sprinted round the side of her little cottage, only tempering her steps, when she knew she could be seen from the road.
Decorum, my dear. Make them chase you, never the other way round.
Her late foster mother’s words made her slow her hasty walk down to a leisurely stroll, and she fixed an uninterested, but polite smile on her lips for extra measure. One she didn’t have to fake, when she saw who was lounging on his bike. It wasn’t her Henry.
The excited butterflies in her tummy ground to a halt with a screech of alarm at the smirk on this man’s face.
“Well, look who we have here? A mongrel loving witch. I can smell that whole sorry lot all over you. You should try a real man for size.”
Joanne’s fingers itched to spell that infuriating man right off his seat, but that wouldn’t be wise. Besides, she was still getting used to her growing powers, and might well kill him in the process.
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