Page 22 of Boss Witch

That lady was round like an apple with a poof of permed white hair and a fine hand with lipstick. Her puce tracksuit was rather memorable as well. Gavin quickly learned that her name was Hazel Jeffords, she had a recalcitrant cat named Goliath, and she was a talker. The introductions came fast and furious after that: Angelica, Ethel, Stanley but “call me Stan,” Howard Carruthers, “used to own the hardware store, my son runs the place now.” Sometimes they spoke so fast that the words overlapped, and his brain whirled.

Don’t let this opportunity get away from you, he scolded himself.

“Before I forget,” he cut in.

He made a show of finding a plastic bowl in the coffee supplies and apportioned a generous amount of berries, while saving enough for the promised parfaits, then washed them, sprinkled them with a packet of sugar, and carried them to the table.

“I brought these to share with everyone,” he said. “They’re fresh this morning, picked with my own hands.”

“Did you ever do that over in England?” Howard wanted to know.

“Never,” he said.

Others who’d had a less rigorous and isolated childhood likely had different experiences. But his father had kept far too sharp an eye on him for there to have been many moments left to spare for leisure. He had only vague memories of his mother, who had left when he was four. That was what Jason Rhys claimed, and then they moved. Soon, the only people in his life were Grandad and Jason Rhys, who insisted on training Gavin every hour that he wasn’t in school. Most children loathed sitting in classes, but for Gavin, it had been a respite.

Impatient with himself, he shunted aside those grim and lonely memories.

As he’d hoped, the berries smoothed the path and the pensioners warmed up to him. Now they saw him as a nice boy, someone they might set up with a grandchild once they got to know him better.

“That explains St. Claire, but it’s a bit odd that you’re here at a senior meeting,” Gladys said, when the chat came to a natural lull.

Fortunately, he was good at sweet-­talking when he had to be, came from rolling into a new town repeatedly and needing to get good at ingratiating himself. “I heard this is where all the hot people hang out.”

The curvy silver-­haired woman with the pixie cut—­Ethel, he thought—­laughed and said, “He’s got you there, just look at the lot of us. We’re about to steam all the paint off this table.”

Both Hazel and Howard smirked, and the old folks traded jokes for a little while as they sipped on their coffee. He didn’t want to wear out his welcome, and it looked like time was almost up for this gathering. So he got to his feet.

“Thanks for making me feel so welcome. This was fun, so I’ll definitely be back.”

“Aren’t you going to ask for my number?” Ethel teased. “I saw you eyeing me up, don’t even act like you weren’t.”

Gavin grinned. “There’s no law against looking.”

That got a hoot out of Hazel, and on that note, he headed out. “Take care, everyone. See you soon.”

There, that was some good groundwork. Next time he showed up, he could ask a few questions, acting like it was related to maybe relocating here because the town was so dang charming. Appeals like that always went over well, because people loved thinking their hometown could enchant anyone who passed through. But as he strode out of the firehouse and got on the Duc, one thought burned in his brain like it was written in fire:

I wish I could be free.

Chapter 7

The next morning, Clem was at the shop early, determined to clear all the devices that people had insisted on dropping off because they were far too busy to wait.

Arguing was a waste of time, and it would also be suspicious if they never appeared to order parts. Outside of magic, it was impossible for a repair shop to have every possible replacement already on hand. So even though she didn’t like the risk that clients would get impatient and abandon their stuff, she usually acceded and filled out the paperwork, including a rider that said if they didn’t pick up their belongings within fourteen days, the owners of Fix-­It Witches were free to dispose of said goods as they saw fit. Still, she was nervous as she worked, constantly reaching out with a magical touch to check the integrity of the wards.

It was most likely Danica’s power spikes that had attracted attention in the first place, but damn, had Gavin really sensed her all the way from Florida?Nah, how could he?It seemed more likely that another hunter had detected Danica going haywire, but then, for reasons known only to witch hunter internal politics, Gavin caught the assignment instead. Maybe Gavin was the equivalent of a teacher’s pet?

“Fuck,” Clem muttered, catching a shock from the phone she was working on.

Her own magic sizzled and sparked, and she knew damn well that was nerves. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself and found that the battery was shot. Normally that would be it for a smartphone like this, as batteries weren’t designed to be replaced, but she nudged it slowly, charging it with her magic and then tweaking so it would hold a charge. In this case, it wasn’t a permanent fix. She could coax it to do her will for a while, maybe another year, and then they’d have to bring it back. After four or five fixes, it might even be cheaper to buy a new unit, but she’d never say that. In time, the client would decide that on his own, as nobody kept phones around forever. Well, unless they had something special saved on them.

Before she knew it, it was nearly two and Danica wasn’t here yet. Clem sighed. The one time she had plans, and her cousin was off doing goddess knew what. Though if she was taking bets, it had something to do with Titus. Muttering a curse, she grabbed her cell and called, but Danica didn’t answer. Then her heart leapt into her throat because she saw Gavin stride up outside. If he came in, the wards might ping him. That, along with the name and—­

Clem hurried outside, her heart beating so fast that it made her slightly dizzy. “Hey!”

She wasn’t normally like this, but she wound her arms around his neck and squeezed him, hoping a sudden hug attack would divert him. Gavin returned the embrace, his big hands splayed to cradle her close. For a long moment, she breathed him in: soap and leather oil, a hint of mint, and just a whisper of citrus.Wow, he smells amazing.

“Missed me, then?” he asked, a thread of amusement lacing his tone.

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