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‘I know. I reacted badly to what could have been good professional advice…’

‘Could have been?’

‘If I’d stopped to listen, it probably would have been. I’m trying to apologise because I really am sorry.’ He hoped his sincerity made it through the phone.

‘I guess I might have been a bit… abrupt, too.’

‘Nothing I didn’t deserve, I’m sure. I just… tend to get quite passionate about my designs.’ He found himself smiling as the weird fizzing of his magic settled into something warmer and cosier.

‘I may have been accused of similar when it comes to my patients. I guess, if you’re apologising, I probably should too.’

‘I’m pretty sure I deserved it.’

‘OK, so you’re sorry and maybe slightly less arrogant than I first thought…’

‘Oh, I’m really not that arrogant. Just great at making terrible first impressions.’

‘I guess I can officially downgrade you from lofty then.’ Amrita chuckled and the sound shot straight through him, sparking his gift again. Damn it. He’d been trying to convince himself it was Aiden’s bespelled baking that had been triggering… whatever this was. ‘So what was it you wanted?’

‘A favour.’

‘You can ask, but no guarantee I’ll say yes.’

‘Fair enough. You said you had some ideas on how we – I – could improve the designs for Sylvie’s build. I was hoping you might be willing to talk me through them.’

‘Are you going to listen, this time?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Sylvie likes you, and your designs were pretty. And potentially good. With some changes and adaptations, they could be perfect for supporting her independence in the longer term. When and where were you thinking?’

‘Whatever works for you.’

‘My calendar is pretty full for the next couple of weeks… Sylvie’s not my only high-intensity patient currently.’

‘What about one evening? You could come to my office or I can meet you somewhere else. I could buy you dinner.’

‘You want to buy me dinner?’ He wished he could tell what she was thinking, or what that quiet, level tone meant.

‘You’d be doing me a favour. And I still feel I need to make up for coming across as an arrogant arse.’

‘OK.’

‘OK? Is that “OK, I’m an arrogant arse”?’

There was another of those sparkling laughs. ‘It’s an OK, we can meet up and go through your designs. But dinner’s not necessary – I’m just doing this to help a patient. I’ll text you my availability. Where’s your office?’

‘Hudsbury. Where Mia lives – and where we’re planning on building. Do you know it?’

‘Not really. I’ve seen it on road signs, but I’ve never had a reason to visit before. But if Sylvie is moving there and stays on my list, I guess I will do soon. Message me your address please.’

‘Of course.’ He knew he was grinning like an idiot – even more idiotic because this was strictly professional. So why was his magic still buzzing through him as excitedly as if he’d just been given a new project? Weird. Very weird.

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