Page 32 of Boss Witch

“Nice to meet you. Anyone who might need some help while I’m in town, hand me your mobile. I’ll input my number.”

Unsurprisingly, all the women sent their cellular devices to him. The men responded more slowly. Their generation found it difficult to ask for help, he suspected.

“Hit me up if you’d like to get a pint,” he said to Leonard. “I’m in the market for some drinking mates too.”

“Wouldn’t you rather make friends your own age?” the old man demanded.

Gavin shook his head. “Haven’t you heard? We’re a generation of wankers.”

Startled, Leonard let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Some of you are okay. But you never know, might take you up on that.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Chapter 10

With all her heart, Clem wished she could hit the reset button on her life.

Back when everyone was quarantining, she and Danica had offered online tech support for a nominal fee. She’d said, “Is it plugged in? Have you tried turning it off and on again? Factory reset didn’t work?” so many times, but unfortunately, witches couldn’t be reset like a malfunctioning phone.

No matter how long she stared in silence, her father wasstill here, and Gram was smiling at him, like she knew something about his arrival beforehand. That pissed Clem off, frankly. Gram knew exactly how shitty Barnabas had treated Clem’s mom, yet she saw only his proper accent, his old money, and the superficial good manners that glossed over his many defects.

“Tell me you didn’t invite him,” Clem said.

She suspected that her complicated life was about to get worse. And she couldn’t take more pressure when she was already struggling to clean up her cousin’s mess. Guilt immediately assailed her for thinking of Gavin that way, and she reminded herself that it was a fuckingcon.

I’m not supposed to feel anything for him. He’s the enemy.

Into the fraught silence, Barnabas declared, “How rude. You haven’t greeted your stepmother.”

Clem extended her senses and realized this young woman registered as a null.She’s a mundane. Did he run out of witches willing to overlook his history and marry him?While he’d messed around with mundane girls before, this was a new development, one line her father hadn’t crossed.

Until now.

Still, though she wanted to snarl, this woman wasn’t her enemy. Most likely, she had no idea what kind of man she’d married. It wouldn’t be long before she found out—­in the most painful way possible—­so Clem restrained her urge to lash out and tried to smile. The expression felt weird on her face, probably looked even stranger.

“I’m Clementine Waterhouse. Clem. Nice to meet you,” she said grudgingly.

“Pansy Balfour.”

It was a sweet name, and it matched her ingenue aspect. Clem had to hand it to the old man; no matter how much he aged, he never lost the ability to pull. Pansy must be in her late twenties, several years younger than Clem, and she had huge dark eyes and fair hair, a contrast that probably wasn’t natural.

Gram spoke, her thin face wreathed in smiles. “Once you acclimate to the idea, you’ll be glad that both your parents will be here to…spend time with you this summer. How many years has it been?” she added in a fond, wistful tone.

That had to be an oblique reference to the Lughnasadh. Clem stared, utterly aghast. “Tell me this wasn’t your idea. Mom and D-­Pop will be here soon!”

Barnabas immediately took offense. “You’re acting as if that disreputable layabout is your father? You never address me directly, and you use my first name when you speak of me to others. Do you think that’s appropriate? It’s so disrespectful that I…”

Yeah, tuning him out.

Briefly she closed her eyes, wishing her magic could poof her somewhere else. Teleportation would be a super awesome power, one she unfortunately didn’t possess. When she opened her eyes, her three unwelcome guests were still in the shop, but at least Barnabas had finished his lecture, and Pansy was trying to chat with Gram.

Good luck, she hates mundanes.

Just once, Clem would like for Danica to show up early and help her out of an awkward situation. Their relationship didn’t work that way, however. Not that it was her cousin’s fault—­Clem tended to ice others out when she was most vulnerable.

“I’ll take the guest room at your place,” her father said, because the conversation had evolved to discussing where everyone would stay. “It’s only fair. I never get to see you, and you grew up with your mother. I want us to be closer, Clementine.”

You don’t even know that I hate being called that.

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