Page 2 of A Thousand Cuts

“The target demographic, I know,” she finished for him. “Two out of three isn’t bad, though.”

She gave him a wink and he raised a brow at her. “Two out of three?”

She held up three fingers.

“Young.” She put one finger down. “Pretty.” She put another finger down. “In possession of a dick.” She kept the last finger up. “That’s where I fall at the last hurdle. At least one attached to me, anyways. I do have several—”

“Okay! That’s enough.” Fix set a brown paper bag next to her coffee to stop her from talking. “I made cookies yesterday and saved you some.”

“You managed to save cookies from the beasts you live with?” She looked impressed, her eyes wide.

“I might have saved a bit of dough and baked them for you once they all left the house this morning.”

She nodded with a hum. “Yeah, that tracks. There’s a reason you’re the favorite.”

“Anything new this morning?” he asked.

“Not yet, no. Enjoy the slow day while it lasts!”

It was a rare day when Fix had nothing on the agenda. Nuisance curses were, as the name suggested, the most common curses, and they had an influx of them at all times.

He nodded at her and headed for his office, mentally cataloging the paperwork he had fallen behind on. He opened the door and immediately paused, sighing loudly.

It was way too early in the morning for sights like this.

He walked inside, closed the door, and turned to take in the damage. His desk was a mess, there were papers everywhere, and three of his drawers had been upended and left on the floor. He ran a hand over his face and slumped into his chair.

“Blaaaaack!” Fix called out loudly, not bothering to open the door or use their office phones to do it.

“IT WASN’T ME!” Black screamed back from his own office just across the hallway.

“What wasn’t?” Fix asked.

The question was followed by the sound of doors being opened and Black stomping across the hallway. He barged in, blond curls flying everywhere as he approached Fix’s mauled desk. “Whatever it is you’re screaming at me for.”

He was a whirlwind of pastel pink and embroidered stars as he took in the mess around them.

“Oh,” Black said, pointing at the scattered paperwork. “Yeah, no, definitely not me.”

“You didn’t nose through my files looking for gross case photos?” Fix quirked a brow at his youngest brother.

“Are there any gross case photos?” Black fired back, crossing his arms over his chest and holding Fix’s stare like a pro.

“No,” Fix said because, for once, his cases had been majorly boring lately and he had zero photos of any kind in his physical files.

“See? Totally wasn’t me.”

“You didn’t know there weren’t any gross photos until I told you just now, muffin,” Fix said. “It still could have been you.”

“I am more insulted by these heinous insinuations than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” Black gasped dramatically, throwing himself sideways into a vacant chair on the other side of Fix’s desk.

He draped a thin hand over his eyes and swooned, peeking to see if Fix took notice. Fix steepled his fingers on top of the desk and stared at him until he huffed and sat back up.

“Fine!” Black threw his arms up in the air. “The files were me. Your cases are so boring, man. A singing oven. Really?”

“I like my cases.” Fix gathered up the papers, sorting them into the correct folders and stacking them at the end of his desk. “And I don’t appreciate nosy little imps poking through my files and drawers looking for information they shouldn’t have.”

“Hey!” Black said, offended. “I said the files were me. I have no clue what happened to the drawers.”