Page 5 of Sugar, Spice, and Magical Midlife

“Oh, Ethyl, you didn’t!” My hands flew to my mouth as I stumbled back. If Gus found out, the bakery would be shut down for sure, not to mention Ethyl wasn’t exactly proficient at brewing potions. Case in point, the potion she’d brewed for PMS had left Ethyl moaning in bed for days with pimples that looked like witchy warts and a stomach so bloated, she looked nine months pregnant.

“Come on, Luci.” Ethyl sashayed around the counter, nudging me in the ribs. “All I did was speed things along. You saw the way he was fingering that cinnamon bun and flashing you those bedroom eyes.”

Bedroom eyes? He was? I totally missed that! I forced all thoughts of Ric Romero out of my head, glaring down at myapprentice. “Ethyl, do you know how much trouble we could get into? Gus would love an excuse to shut down my bakery.”

“Relax.” She laughed, tossing back her ponytail with a confident shrug. “The troll will never find out.Ricowill be back tomorrow for seconds, and by tomorrow night he’ll be fingeringyourbun.”

My hands flew to my mouth as heat flamed my face. Again, I looked over at my son, who was humming softly while tapping away at his computer keys. “Oh, great Goddess!” I wagged a finger down at Ethyl. “What am I going to do with you?”

Ethyl tilted her chin, that speck of orange frosting on her nose no longer cute as it flashed like a magical strobe light of doom. “A raise would be nice and then a Witch Apprentice of the Month plaque for going above and beyond my magical duties and helping my boss get laid.”

As if. I swallowed back a knot in my throat. Forget about getting laid. I prayed Ethyl’s potion didn’t land us in deep dragon doo.

Ricardo

I WALKED PAST MY TWOnew clients without so much as a hello. I was in no mood to listen to their sob stories. It was always the same.It wasn’t my time. I had so much to live for. I look horrible. Please don’t make it open casket.

Slumping in my padded leather chair, I threw the box of cinnamon rolls on my desk, no longer in the mood to eat them, even though Luciella did make the best damn pastries this side of the Sandias.

But my appetite had diminished thanks to Lenny, my soon-to-be former employee. Why the hell had I hired the little weasel? I loathed working with him even more than workingwith my clients. In fact, I’d take a dozen bumbling Butchered Bobs over one sniveling, whiny Lenny any day.

The toad-faced jerk may have blown my one chance at impressing Luciella. Now she’d never go out with me. Not that a relationship with the pretty witch would’ve worked out anyway. She had a business and a child. She wouldn’t want to get mixed up with an outlaw. I should just forget about her and find a new bakery. If only I could stop thinking about her luminous blue eyes and wide, sexy smile.

“What’s got you down in the dumps?”

I glowered at Butchered Bob hovering over my desk, his body parts sloppily stitched together with magical, glowing Duct Tape. “Nothing.”

“Don’t say ‘nothing.’” Bob frowned, accidentally losing a chunk of lip in the process. “I recognize the face of heartbreak. Word to the wise, forget about women. Believe me, they’re not worth the trouble.”

I sank further in my chair, dragging a hand down my face with a groan. “This one is.”

“She’ll only break your heart.” Bob wagged a wobbly finger. “And then she’ll cleave it out of your chest and grind it up in a food processer.”

“Thanks for the visual, Bob.” I did my best to keep a straight face. “Don’t you have a cemetery to haunt?”

“Nah.” Bob chuckled. “I’m on night shifts. Nothing good happens during the day, anyway. So what’s her name?”

“Luciella.” The name dripped off my tongue like sweet, sticky sugar and made my beast purr.

“Luciella?” Bob rubbed his dimpled chin, then snapped his wobbly jaw back in place. “An old family name?”

“A witch name,” I groaned. Why would I let myself fall for a witch? The last witch I’d gotten involved with not only broke my heart—she’d framed me for murder.

“Stay away from witches, Ric.” Bob clucked his tongue, then shoved it back in his mouth when it slipped down his chin. “My last wife was a witch.”

“I think you mean bitch.” The newspaper headlines had called her the Butcher Bride, but I thought Psychotic, Vindictive Wife from Hell was a better moniker.

Bob flashed a lopsided grin. “That, too.”

I shook my head. “Believe it or not, Bob, not all women enjoy chopping men into bite-sized pieces.”

I refused to believe the worst of Luciella. I’d been observing her for weeks. She doted on her special-needs son every day. Every evening after closing the bakery she bagged up leftover pastries and brought them to the homeless. She had the patience of the Fae when it came to dealing with her bumbling witch apprentice. Luciella had to be the kindest person I had ever known, and boy did she know how to cook. Even more reason I knew I should stay away from her. She deserved someone better than an outlaw with no future and an insatiable appetite.

“Earth to Romeo.” Bob hovered to the ground, wildly waving at me. Then he cursed when his hand popped off and spiraled through the air and right out the window. “You’d better eat those cinnamon rolls before Lenny finds them.” He motioned to the box of pastries with his stump.

I made the mistake of looking at the severed cavity that once held Bob’s hand. Slimy maggots crawled out of his wrist and splattered onto the floor.

I clutched my roiling stomach. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

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