Page 23 of De-Witched

“I lent him my hoodie.” Leah flicked through the bills, struggling to understand. “What is this? A weird thank-you? A point made?”

“An excellent move to get in your head.” Peggy waggled her eyebrows. “You have to hand it to the guy. At least we know he probably asked Emma or Tia where you lived. No stalker, no severed body parts. It’s a good day.”

Leah smiled faintly. She didn’t know what to think.

“Ask him,” Peggy advised, likely reading her face. “Maybe it’s, I don’t know, for dry cleaning, or maybe he stretched it out and knows you’d need to buy another.”

“This would buy four.”

“So, maybe he’s generous. Another point in his favor. I only pray my date is so giving.” Peggy bumped her hip with her own. “I’m going to finish getting ready.”

Leah didn’t bother looking up as she tapped the bills to her chin.

You’re welcome.

Her lips twitched, liquid warmth moving through her even as she fought it. Smart-ass.

Later that week, Emma called a meeting for the owners of Toil and Trouble. As Peggy was out on a third date and had cheekily informed Leah not to wait up, she volunteered her house. She didn’t ask why they didn’t meet at the bar like they usually did; Gabriel was still a sore topic. With everyone.

His note had become an obsession for her, the subtle teasing pointing to a new step in their—their situation. Trying to figure out what that new step was, what she wanted it to be, or wondering what he wanted it to be, was a constant loop in her head.

She was sensible enough to recognize the stupidity of that, enough that she’d pulled back on her shifts with him this week. Instead, she’d made an effort to be civil, with him responding in kind. They were like adversaries circling each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. The tension may just kill her.

Emma arrived first. They sat in the kitchen as they made Cauldron Cosmos, Chester and Leah’s dogs milling around their feet as they chatted. Leah badly wanted to ask her friend her thoughts on the note, but Joyce Turner hadn’t raised a fool, so she focused on the drink Emma handed her instead.

They’d barely cheers’d when Leah heard the front door open and Tia strode in on ice-pick heels.

“You read my mind,” she muttered, seizing her glass. “Here’s to us, ladies. Strong and independent may we always be.” She clinked both glasses before throwing her drink back. Thanks to the falayla root, it had a good kick. Which was why Leah would stick to one—a woman could only perform Instagram Live karaoke so many times and still hold her head up high. Tia nudged Emma with her shoulder, settling next to her. “Even this traitor.”

“I’m getting married, not joining a cult.”

“Uh-huh. Not that I’m not thrilled to have a legit excuse to hightail it out of the family bosom, but what’s with the summons?”

Emma touched her arm. “You okay?”

“You know me.” Tia brushed the increasing demands for her time away with a smile. “It’ll take more than my nana’s will to wear me down.”

“Is she the one you went toe-to-toe with about opening the bar?” Leah asked.

“Yeah. And who won?” Tia toasted herself with the empty glass, then gestured between all of them. “Speaking of which, if we’re all here, who’s babysitting Goodnight?”

“Bastian said he didn’t mind helping out.”

“Good, we need all the help we can get.” Tia selected a nacho from the plate Leah had prepared, piled it high, then caught sight of Ralph, perched on one of the top cabinets and staring. “Your cat’s creepy, Leah.”

“He just likes to watch.”

“Said every woman before being murdered and found in Lake Michigan.”

“My cat isn’t going to murder me.”

“But he thinks about it.”

“Wait—do you actually know that, like, with magic, or are you just trying to freak me out?”

Tia’s grin was short-lived as she returned to the previous subject. “Four more bad reviews online. Four. And okay, some social media comments about the grumpy, delicious bartender. But guys, four. We’re losing business.”

Emma bit her lip. “That’s why I wanted to talk. It could be a fluke, but we’ve been less busy the past few nights compared to the same nights last month. I checked the receipts. We’ve got to do something. Pull him off bartending.”

---