Page 31 of Boss Witch

“Pardon me?” Gavin had the feeling he’d committed a faux pas somehow, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how.

“You just made an open offer,” Ethel pointed out. “Didn’t set any limits. So they could ask you to trim hedges, mow yards, drive them to doctor’s appointments, dredge sewer lines, clean gutters, date their grandchildren—­”

“That’s not really a chore, is it?”

“You’ve never seen my grandbaby,” Howard joked.

“Megan isn’t that bad,” said Hazel. “Though I’ll allow that I find all those piercings distracting. How does she eat corn on the cob?”

Ethel laughed. “That’s what you’re worried about? You should support Megan’s right to do as she pleases with her own body.”

He decided he ought to set those limits. “Garden work is fine. I wouldn’t mind driving but we’d need to use your car, as I can’t imagine any of you would enjoy a ride on my Ducati.”

“I would,” said Gladys.

“What about your bad hip?” Leonard looked like he might physically wrestle Gavin to keep him from absconding with the pretty little apple of his eye. “You have rheumatoid arthritis, for God’s sake!”

She scowled at Leonard, a surprisingly fierce expression. “Clam jamming me won’t get you in these granny panties any faster, old man.”

Gavin choked on the sip of coffee he’d inadvisably taken, just before Gladys wentoff. “Did you say—­”

“Clam jamming. Also called ‘twat blocking.’ It’s the equivalent—­”

“Yes, I understood you, though ‘twat’ means something different where I’m from.”

“That’s why I said ‘clam jamming’ first,” Gladys said, like he was a bit thick.

He laughed until tears gathered at the edges of his eyes. “Understood. But Leonard has nothing to fear from me. I’m seeing someone already.”

“You work fast,” Ethel noted.

“Who is it? What are they like?” Hazel served herself from the box of pastries, eyes avid as the old woman prepared for some fine and proper gossip.

And he appreciated the fact that she’d chosen a general pronoun, not assuming anything about his preferences. The fact was, Gavin had always been more attracted to personality traits. He liked people who were mentally strong, a bit stubborn, prone to giving him a hard time. Submission did nothing for him, and he liked a bit of conflict—­

Suddenly he realized everyone was staring at him, expecting an answer. He had no reason to hide the fact that he was hooking up with Clem, so he said, “Clementine Waterhouse. She runs Fix-­It Witches, the repair shop near the café.”

For some reason, Gladys and Ethel swapped a look. Gavin intercepted it, but he couldn’t interpret what that glance meant. Neither of the women spoke.

“She’s my neighbor!” Hazel said. “Nearly, anyway. I live four doors down.”

Good to know.

He might be able to pump Hazel for information about Clem if it became necessary, as he still had a low-­key thread of…something. Not quite misgiving, but it tugged at him over time. Her surname. The name of her shop.

Certainly, his task couldn’t be that easy, and he’d never sensed any magic on her, but—­

No.

More likely, she was a mundane using the history of witchcraft as a gimmick because she had no idea of the truth. Defiantly, he shoved that unease to the back of his mind.

“Yard work and driving,” Gladys said, guiding the discussion back to what work he was willing to do. “What about cleaning out attics or basements? Maybe moving furniture if we want to rearrange the house?”

“That’s doable,” he said. “I’ve never done any painting, and if you wanted anything planted, I’d need supervision, but I’m willing to provide muscle as needed.”

“Have mercy,” another old woman said, fanning herself as she came into the meeting room to overhear his comment.

“This is Judy Carminian,” Ethel said.

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