Kiss and Spell (Enchanted, Inc. #7)

Kiss and Spell (Enchanted, Inc. #7) Page 47

I had to think quickly. Was it just the way she sounded, a friend looking for juicy details, or was she testing me to see if the spell had broken? If the latter, was that so she could help us or so she could report us to her superiors? She seemed truly happy for me, and I doubted that my getting together with Owen was part of the elves’ plan, but she could have been playing her role to the hilt. It was too risky to trust her, so I merely smiled and said, “It was nice.”

“Nice? That’s all you’ve got to say? Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll take it as an insult.”

“That’s between us. ‘Nice’ is all you need to know—and don’t you dare ask him.”

“Oh, I’ll get it out of you sooner or later,” she teased. “But I really am happy for you.”

In spite of his brave talk about facing Mac head-on, Owen was pale when I met him with sandwiches from our café to take to the park. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.

“No,” he admitted, “but I am sure it’s the right thing to do. Let’s just hope this works and that he’s fair about it. I’m sure he will be.” I didn’t think he sounded too convinced, but he strode across the street like he was on a mission, and it was clear he wasn’t going to talk himself out of it or let me do so. I followed him, feeling a lot less confident than he was acting.

Mac and his Council enforcer partner were at their usual table, playing their usual game of chess. I had to wonder what fantasy they were being allowed to live out that they wouldn’t want to escape. Sitting in a park and playing chess all day didn’t sound like my idea of an ideal life. Then again, living out a bad romantic comedy film hadn’t been high on my list, either. It had just been what was on my mind when they’d taken me. Maybe we’d interrupted a good game of chess by going out to dinner that fateful night.

As luck would have it, the park was fairly full and the only spot where we could sit was at the other end of the picnic table where Mac and his buddy were playing. Owen greeted them, then asked, “Do you mind?” as he gestured at the empty end of the table.

Mac nodded and said, “Go ahead.”

Owen and I sat and started eating our lunch. We made self-conscious small talk, trying to sound normal and innocent. That’s more difficult than I would have thought. You usually don’t even think about the things you say when you’re having lunch with someone, and you don’t care what random semi-strangers might overhear. We chatted for a while about how good the sandwiches were and how we were glad the food in the café had improved. There was some discussion of the changes being made in the store and how they were working. All the while, Owen kept tabs on his target out of the corner of his eye.

He abruptly steered the topic back to food. “The smoked gouda in this sandwich is an interesting choice,” he said. “It goes well with the ham.”

“It’s the bread that gets me,” I said, following his lead. “I’m so glad we found that bakery. I’d swear it’s right out of the oven.” Then I noticed Mac’s buddy glancing at our sandwiches as we ate and I thought I knew what Owen was up to. We went on praising the sandwich ingredients, and I then extolled the virtues of the cookies that had been delivered that morning. “It smells like we baked them ourselves,” I said. “You know there’s chocolate in the house. It’s divine.”

Now the buddy looked like he was about to start drooling. Mac was focused on the game, but he seemed to be stuck, unable to decide what move to make next. Owen glanced over at the board and said helpfully, “That knight has room to move.”

Mac blinked, seemed to see what Owen had seen, moved a piece, and not long afterward won his game. His buddy leaned back, stretched, and said, “I think I’m going to take a lunch break. Want to join me?”

“Nah, I brought a lunch.”

When the buddy was gone, Owen said, “Would you like a new opponent?”

“Why not?”

Owen threw away the trash from his lunch and took the seat across from Mac. I knew nothing about chess, so what they were doing made no sense to me. Their first few moves went rapidly, with Owen moving a piece and Mac responding immediately, and then Owen moving again, seemingly without even having to think about what to do. Then Mac paused and leaned back, frowning at the board. “I’m having the weirdest sense of déjà vu,” he said. “I could swear I’ve played this exact same game before.”

“That’s interesting,” Owen said mildly. I wondered if he was doing this on purpose, playing a game he’d played before with Mac. “Did you win that one?”