Page 46 of The Trouble With Spells
“Well, don’t expect me to share,” I informed him, “I don’t even share with Daphne.”
“Oh, baby, that sugar bomb is all yours.”
My eyes widened at the endearment that had rolled smoothly off his tongue, and so did his, but neither of us commented on it. Truth be told, I kind of liked him calling me baby. Which was weird, because I had always cringed when I heard other people use it with their partners. But it left a warm feeling low in my belly in its wake, and I suddenly realized what the appeal was.
Michael’s phone buzzed, his screen lighting up. Putting it to his ear after hitting accept, he said warmly, “Good morning, Mom.”
Finishing my breakfast, I silently listened to his side of the conversation.
“Yes, I’m fine, I told you that…uh huh…yeah, he’s right here…” Michael cupped his hand over the phone, saying lowly, “My mom says hi.”
“Hi back,” I rinsed my bowl, then stuck it in the dishwasher. Hex, having finished his breakfast and once againsatisfied with his life, jumped up onto the empty chair next to Michael, licking his paw. No doubt the intelligent kitty was hanging on every word out of Michael’s mouth.
“He says hi back, Mom…next week hopefully…I can take more time if I need it but I have cases to get back to…I know you think I work too hard, Mom…I promise I’ll come visit more often…with Callum, yes…” He rolled his eyes at me and I grinned at him, then mouthedYour mom loves me, and made a heart with my hands over my chest. He rolled his eyes even harder and put his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.
Glancing at the clock, I saw it was five minutes until ten, and I needed to open for the day. Making a gesture on my wrist like I was tapping my non-existent watch, I tilted my head in the general vicinity of the storefront.
“Mom, I need to go,” Michael said, “Callum needs to open the store for the day and I need to check in with the office…I know I’m on leave, but I still…I know…” he let out a long suffering sigh, running a hand through his sandy hair. “I don’t want to practice corporate law…I’ll tell him…love you, too.”
He ended the call with another frustrated sigh. “My mom said to tell you she’s going to make an appointment online to get her cards read.”
“Okay, I told her I’d be happy to do a reading for her. She can just come in anytime.”
Michael raised a brow at me. “You are not going to do it for free.”
“I didn’t say–” I started to protest, because that had been exactly what I was planning to do, but how had he known that?
“You so were, and I’m telling you no. This is your business, and everyone should pay. Even your boyfriend’s mom.”
Plenty of so-called friends had tried to take advantage on multiple occasions, thinking I should read their cards for free. Daphne had had more than one falling out with friends when they felt she should let them have candles, crystals, or whatever else was on our shelves, for free. I knew he was right, but this was his mom we were talking about. It seemed weird to take her money.
Leaning over him, I told him huskily, “Say that again.”
“Say what? That you shouldn’t be doing readings for free, not even for friends? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. It’s bad business.”
Shaking my head, I grunted, “Nope, not that.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes, and he smirked. “Boyfriend?”
“That’s it, that’s the sexy word.” Pulling me down with a firm hand on the back of my neck, he captured my lips in a possessive kiss.
A loud banging had us both groaning in low key sexual frustration, and we rested our foreheads against each other.
“Mrs. Hawthorne,” I sighed, already missing the warmth of his kiss and his lips on mine.
“That’s one hell of a knock for an octogenarian,” Michael observed.
“You have no idea.” Pushing away from him, I waited while he refilled his coffee. The banging came once more, followed by a sharp, “Callum Turner, do not make me tattle to Abigail on you! Don’t think I haven’t noticed how often that sign has been turned to Closed while she’s been away.”
Shaking my head at her all too real threat to blab to Gran just how many days I hadn’t opened the shop, I asked Michael, “Ready?”
“Pfft, I face down criminals every day. One little oldlady is nothing.”
“Oh, I bet that devil card is for my neighbor Mr. Tribedeau,” Mrs. Hawthorne’s blunt fingernail tapped the devil card I had uncovered sharply. “That man is the devil if I’ve ever met him. Won’t trim that tree of his and the limb hangs over my yard, dropping leaves like singles at a strip club.”
Michael’s snort laugh turned into a muffled half cough when Mrs. Hawthorne’s piercing brown eyes landed on him.
Patiently, I reminded her, “Now you know good and well that card doesn’t represent the actual devil.”
