Page 24 of Boss Witch

He had to be talking about food and sex and yeast infections, but Clem pretended she had no clue what he meant and gave him a wide-­eyed look that he probably didn’t buy. She led the way to the café, and they placed their order. They both got the wrap she’d suggested, along with icy Italian sodas. The place was crowded, and they were lucky to snag a table.

“So did you introduce yourself to the coffee klatch gang?”

Gavin laughed. “I certainly did. Next I hope I’ll get to hear the stories you mentioned. I popped in yesterday, but there wasn’t time for more than basic, chaotic introductions.”

“Ten bucks says Hazel Jeffords mentioned her cat, if she was there.”

“I refuse to take that wager.”

“She did,” Clem said, laughing, as the server delivered their order.

“What’s in the box?” Gavin asked.

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise for later.”

He studied the carefully wrapped carton with holes cut in the sides. Though Clem couldn’t speak to the mouse like Priya had, she did get a sense of his emotional state, and he seemed to be okay since his habitat was getting air from the holes and the box provided some insulation from the restaurant’s noise and bustle. Hopefully, the little dude didn’t freak out too much about the brief motorcycle ride to come.

The talk was light and fun while they ate, but she noticed Gavin couldn’t keep his eyes off her. It was flattering, but she had the same problem. Lately she couldn’t stop checking out his hands and forearms, which was a new obsession for her.

Once they finished, he offered a lazy smile. “To mine, then?”

Oh no. Oh yes.

If this was a test, she’d fail it.

***

It must be a coincidence, yeah?

Gavin had been telling himself that ever since he saw the name of Clem’s shop and learned her last name.Remember, you were the one who approached her first.If nothing else, it was certainly proof the universe had a sense of humor. What were the odds that an actual witch hunter would hit on someone who carried the family name “Waterhouse”? In his shoes, his father would immediately begin the tests, most of which would be painful and degrading.

Gavin had been told it was for the greater good and hunters no longer killed witches. They severed their power and blurred their minds, allowing them to live as mundanes. He’d heard rumors that the order also seized assets as a penalty, and he honestly didn’t understand the reasons or the histories. In his childhood, he’d sometimes ask, “Butwhyare they so dangerous?” and he never got a satisfactory answer. Only talk about pride and tradition. Then he’d often get starved or beaten until he stopped questioning.

More and more, he didn’t feel good about continuing this work. Certainly, the hunters above him in the order said these witches were wicked and dangerous, that they hurt others with their powers.We’re protecting the helpless mundanes, don’t you understand that?But there remained a niggling core of doubt, and it had only grown as he aged, until it was more of a thorn lodged permanently inside him, and he bled each time he followed what might be a bad order.

It’s a coincidence, he told himself again.

Clem had a parcel she was being mysterious about, but he didn’t question her as he secured the box inside the storage compartment on the back of the Duc. Thankfully, the ride offered him an excuse for this brooding silence, as it was damn difficult to make conversation on the Duc, so he luxuriated in the clasp of Clem’s arms about his waist, taking pleasure in her closeness. He parked on the pad closest to his flat entrance and let her hop off the bike first, then he followed, squaring away their helmets for next time. She was delightfully flushed from wearing it in this heat, and he barely restrained the urge to kiss her. He retrieved the carton, and she clutched it to her chest.

“This way, the stairs are around back,” Gavin said, instead of indulging in a quick kiss. After climbing the steps, he input the code and gestured for her to precede him. “After you.”

“It’s nice,” she said, smiling as she surveyed his flat.

She headed inside and set the box on the coffee table.

Gavin followed, moving past her to get started in the kitchenette. “Quite adequate for one person. It might be a squeeze if two of us were shacked up for an extended period.”

“I heard so many stories about people trapped in an Airbnb that they thought would only be for a couple of days, and then—­”

“Been there,” he cut in. “Let’s not talk about the dark times, shall we?”

“Good idea. Shall I keep you company while you prepare?”

He nodded, and she took a seat at the small island that doubled as a work desk. “I’ll have you know that I was inspired by the trip to the berry patch. I’m not anything like experienced at it, but I found a recipe for stovetop granola, so everything in these parfaits is fresh.”

Clem grinned, and he loved the mischief in her sparkling eyes as she prepared to tease him. “Even the yogurt?”

“I bought that at the market. But it says ‘natural, unsweetened, organic’ right here.”

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