Page 40 of De-Witched

“It only goes so far. We rescued a dog a few weeks back that’d obviously been used for baiting. In fights,” she elaborated at his blank look. “He had to go into surgery to save his leg. He’s recovering, but that bill alone was thousands.” She tapped her fingernails, a jaunty lemon color, on the mug, jittery with excess energy. “He looks so stressed these days. Sometimes I worry—” She caught herself. “Well, anyway, you being around is helpful.”

The ring he always wore on his left hand glinted in the low lights as he swilled his drink. “Even taking into account my salary?”

An internal siren blared. “You needed the job and we can afford some part-time employees.” Or she could, out of what remained of her trust. As far as Sonny knew, Gabriel was volunteering. She refused to take money out of the shelter when she was the one who’d insisted on Gabriel working there.

His gaze picked her apart. “We can or you can?”

She opened her mouth.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Deciding she really needed to sit, she avoided that stare and crossed to the couch. So tidy. She resisted the urge to poke the remote control out of alignment.

“Leah.”

“What?” She hunched her shoulders. “It’s no big deal.”

“Why are you paying me a salary?”

“The shelter can’t afford to and you needed the job.”

His jaw flexed. “You will cease paying it.”

She scoffed. “Brilliant plan. And what are you going to live on?”

“I have plenty of money.”

She bet he did. Apparently, along with magical powers, witches made a killing at managing their finances, and being the heir of Goodnight’s Remedies had to have benefits beyond unlimited access to their wrinkle-free face cream.

She sipped more coffee. “I can afford it.” Just.

“Your ripped jeans say otherwise.”

“Those are a fashion statement.”

“And your sweaters that don’t fit?”

She lowered the mug. “I’m feeling a lot of judgment right now from a man who probably sleeps in a tie and cuff links.”

He ignored her. “And your cap.”

“You say one word about the Cubs...”

“You can’t possibly afford me.”

“Maybe not for the whole night, but is there an hourly rate we could discuss?” She sniggered at his confused expression. “Never mind. Leave it, Gabriel.”

“No.”

“This is about your whole owing-people issues, isn’t it?”

“Keep your money,” he gritted out. “Or put it toward the shelter. But I don’t want to be in your debt.”

She’d so called that one.

Deciding to be nice and not crow, she held up a hand in surrender. “All right, jeez. Hell, you must really enjoy working there to work for free.” She slid him a provocative smile. “It’s the charming co-workers, isn’t it?”

“I find myself dazzled every day.”

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