Page 24 of De-Witched

“To do what?” Leah asked, shooing Sylvie away from the nachos she’d made. The cat protested with a miffed yowl. “It’s not like he can do our paperwork or bake with you. There’s only so much lifting and carrying.” Not that she wouldn’t mind watching his arms flex in those tailored three-piece suits, or examining how the material stretched over his ass as he bent down.

She gulped some of her cosmo.

“Then he has to go,” Tia said flatly. “I hate to be the bitch—”

Leah snorted.

Tia stopped. Considered. “Okay, it’s my brand, but still. I relented because of all the bleeding hearts around here. Dead parents, family company, yada yada yada. But if he’s actually affecting our business, we can’t allow that.”

Emma grimaced, but nodded. “That’s what I think, too.”

“We can’t fire him.” The words shot from Leah’s mouth. When her friends turned raised eyebrows on her, she backtracked hurriedly. Her skin flushed with heat as she toyed with the stem of her glass. “I mean, he’s—he’s doing it for his family, remember?”

“Here we go,” Tia muttered, rubbing her temples.

Leah elbowed her. “I’m serious. He’s bad enough at this job and we know his situation. He won’t last ten minutes anywhere else.”

“And this is our problem, why?”

“T.”

“Leah, he’s a grown warlock. He’ll deal. He’ll find another job, maybe fifty other jobs the rate he’s going,” Tia amended, stroking a bare foot she’d removed from one of her heels over Chester’s back. “He’ll get through the three months. It’s not like he needs money.”

“I know it sounds harsh, but she’s right.” Emma lifted her shoulders, let them drop helplessly. “Maybe he’ll find a better position. One where he doesn’t have to work with people as much.”

“Or somewhere so desperate for people they’ll hire anyone,” Tia suggested.

Desperate. No people. Hire anyone.

“He could work at the shelter.”

The silence that followed Leah’s suggestion was palpable.

“The shelter?” Emma sampled the words as if they had a funny taste. A groove dug between her brows. “With you?”

“No.” Tia lifted her foot—Chester sighed at the loss—and sat up. “Absolutely not.”

Leah dealt her a droll look. “Gee, Mom, I wasn’t asking permission. We need people at the shelter. This could be perfect.”

“If he finds out—”

“Stop. That record is old, play a new one.” Leah scrubbed her hands over her face, then deliberately took a breath. “Look, it’s not like I want the man there but we’re desperate for help and I can stick him in the back with the animals. He might piss off some puppies but besides getting nipped, it won’t have severe consequences. And if he accidentally does any magic, again, the animals aren’t going to care.” She went for a casual shrug, taking a sip of her drink. The magic zinged down her throat, warming her stomach.

“I thought you hated him,” Emma said, suspicion carving through the words like a boat through water. “Why would you want him at the place you spend the most time?”

“I don’t hate him. It takes too much energy to hate someone, and I don’t need that negativity.”

Tia rolled her eyes. “Why are we friends?”

“I don’t have to like the man to put him to work. It’s kind of a win-win because then I won’t feel crappy about helping him lose his family’s business.” She scowled at Tia’s mutter. “Yes, I’m a bleeding heart, sue me.”

“I don’t like it, Leah.” Emma’s worry was tangible, a whisper along Leah’s cheek. Something rattled in the cupboards before Emma got her magic under control. “I was relieved this past week when you stopped working as many shifts together. It’s dangerous, especially as you both dislike each other so much. If he finds out you know about witches, he’ll report you. He won’t think twice.”

Leah set down her glass with a clink loud enough that both friends startled. “Okay, I’ve put up with this for years and mostly I figured you knew what you were on about so played by your rules. And I still will. But guys, I’m not a child and you can’t tell me what to do. I’m your business partner. I’m your friend. You don’t have to trust him. You have to trust me. And trust that when I say I’ll be fine, I will be.” She kept eye contact with both, hands flat on the counter.

I trust this settles the debt between us.

She was telling the truth; despite the other night, she couldn’t say she liked Gabriel. She wasn’t going to lie and say part of her didn’t find that hint of wry humor intriguing, or that she didn’t find him wildly attractive. An irritating fact considering he was an ass ninety percent of the time and potentially hazardous to her health (if her friends were to be believed).

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