Page 26 of The Witch is Back

Speaking of, Leah’s gaze dropped to his outstretched hand and exposed wrist. “Cool ink. B and E? Dude, way to commit.”

He gulped more coffee. “You could say.”

“I get you. All in, balls out.”

He choked on a laugh, burying it with a broad grin. And moved to phase one of his plan.

“I’m here about the job vacancy.”

The reaction he got was not encouraging. Leah looked as if he’d handed her a pile of dog shit. Cold. So much for instant friendship.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“I promise I’m a hard worker.” He produced an old winning smile, projecting honest innocence for good measure.

Leah was silent a moment, clearly unmoved. Again, Bastian wondered exactly what she’d been told.

“You’ll have to run it past Emma,” she said finally.

“Great.”

“And Tia, our other partner.”

“Great,” he repeated, forcing confidence. Joy. “Point me in their direction.”

Leah regarded him. For a human, she had a pretty good hard stare. He felt it like a chill across the back of his neck.

Then she sighed, rolled out her shoulders. “Look, I’ve never been one to judge on hearsay. But what you did to Em was pretty crappy.” Her head jerked as if erasing that. “Definitely crappy.”

So she knew the bare bones.

He didn’t bother trying to defend himself. “I’m here to make up for it.”

“Are you? Or are you here for you?”

That hit close to home, and he flinched.

“Like I said, I don’t know you and I’m always happy to be proven wrong. So if you’re going to be in her life, please don’t screw her over.”

He opened his mouth to hotly debate that but shut it with a click of teeth. What was the point?

“She’s in the kitchen.” Leah gestured behind her. “Tell her you have my vote but you’re on probation.”

Emma had ditched the hangover from last night’s debauchery and was happily piping spiced apple cupcakes with salted caramel frosting when she heard footsteps approach.

Assuming it was Leah, she didn’t bother looking up, determined to pipe a perfect rose onto each cupcake. If she could get these out for the afternoon, the afternoon drinkers would demolish them before dinnertime. And Sloane was always partial to a sweet treat. They had plans to go to the movies—there was some rom-com Sloane was dying to see—and she’d texted earlier to let Emma know she’d passed the English test she’d been studying for. Definitely felt like a cupcake was in order.

She was swirling the nozzle up to the point when—“You bake?”

Her hand convulsed; frosting pulsed out of the bag to the counter. She stared at it a minute, then raised her eyes to Bastian.

His eyes went from her to the white frosting and then began dancing. “Sorry. I think people usually try and give a little warning before that happens.”

She almost smiled before she came to her senses. She bit down on it and held the piping bag to her like a weapon. She would not be amused by him. She wouldn’t feel anything.

“Bastian,” she greeted. Calm. Collected. As if she didn’t have flour in her hair or melted butter on her sweater. “We didn’t—I didn’t expect you so soon.”

He wandered in, dressed as mouthwateringly as always, though this time in broken-in jeans and a simple T-shirt despite the cool weather.

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