Page 11 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

seven

“Do you think you’ll have sex?”

Tia choked at the out-of-the-blue question and poked her head out of her walk-in closet to gawk at her friend. Leah sprawled across the queen-size bed, one arm behind her head. She flashed a grin.

“What?” Tia managed, clutching the underwear she’d been about to pack like pearls. “Sex? What?”

Leah shifted, curls strewn around her pretty face. “A foreign country, Christmastime. It practically screams sex.”

“Except she’s going alone,” Emma pointed out without looking up. She sipped coffee as she perched on the window seat, scrolling through baking recipes on her phone.

“Exactly.” Leah rolled to her front and propped her head on her hands. She kicked her legs like a teenager. “A holiday romance.”

Tia avoided their eyes as she backed up and dumped the underwear into her suitcase. Guilt at the omission gurgled in her belly like bad shrimp. “It’s a business trip.”

Leah raised her voice. “You’re staying in an English manor over the most romantic time of the year.”

“Tia has no romance in her soul.”

That made her smirk and she shoved her suitcase back into the bedroom, puffing hair out of her face. “She’s right. I’m dead inside.”

Leah peered down. “Pretty fancy underwear for someone not planning on having sex.”

Tia slammed the lid shut and Leah grinned. “Just think,” her friend pushed on, the definition of bullheaded, “after all the tension you’ve been feeling lately, wouldn’t it be good to unwind a little? Speaking of…” She cleared her throat, as subtle as a rock through a window. “How’s Henry?”

Tia barely controlled the telling flinch. “Don’t even.”

“I don’t know why you don’t just bang and get it over with.”

Emma snickered.

Tia grabbed a pillow and bashed her laughing friend on the head. “Seriously, how does Gabriel put up with you?”

Leah sprang up, a ball of energy in human skin. “He loves it.” She grabbed Tia’s hand and towed her back into the walk-in closet.

When Tia had rented a place in Chicago, the city they’d picked to open the bar, she’d gone for quality.

Admittedly, Chicago apartments were on the small side, but with a TARDIS spell, everything could be more than it appeared.

Rows for shoes upon shoes, and racks of gowns, sweaters and shirts slotted between multiple drawers.

A marble island in the center held her jewelry and underwear in cleverly hidden nooks and crannies.

The entire far wall was a mirror, bookended by velvet chairs in Tia’s signature red.

Leah dropped into one to try on the Louboutins she’d grabbed.

She rubbed one on her cheek. “Oh, to have these in every color.”

Tia flipped through some suit jackets. “I love you, Leah, but you’ll find a hex bag in your purse if you try and steal them.”

“It might be worth it.”

Uh-huh. She knew her friend, and while Leah loved pretty things, she was much more the Cubs cap and jeans type, especially with four dogs to walk.

“Emma,” Leah called, selecting another pair with ice-pick heels. “Come and try these shoes. They might work for your wedding.”

Emma wandered in. “Pass.”

“Because they’re violet?”

“Because they look like they double as a murder weapon.”

“Fine, fine, but you need to start thinking seriously about these things.”

“Why? I have you two.” Emma batted her lashes as Tia snorted.

Leah stroked a covetous hand down a swath of silk. “Seriously, T, your closet’s like a boutique. Oh, this one’s pretty. You taking any of these?”

“Maybe one?” Tia straightened from where she’d dumped a bunch of jackets and skirts. She expelled a tight breath. “Honestly, I don’t even know what to take. What kind of businessman invites you to spend a month with him in his home?”

“Very old world,” Emma agreed, holding a cashmere sweater against herself.

Leah’s eyebrows waggled. “Is he good-looking?”

“He’s older than my dad.”

“Age gaps are hot.”

Tia flicked her fingers and magic nudged Leah in the ribs. Leah just grinned and repeated the gesture.

It was weak, baby magic, but it sent a frisson of nerves down Tia’s spine. “You know you’re not meant to do that. Not until you and Gabriel get bound officially.”

When a human and a witch chose to be together, they bonded. The human took on a sliver of power from their partner to boost their health, slow their aging, essentially ensuring the human could live as long as their love.

The High Family had final say on this— usually —but Gabriel had accidentally gifted Leah some power without permission. They were all keeping it on the DL until it was made official by the High Family, which would only happen when either Leah or Gabriel made their relationship permanent.

Blasé as always, Leah waved that off. “Aren’t I getting good? I’m practicing on Gabriel.”

Emma cleared her throat. “Are you gone over Christmas?” The pointed subject change had Leah rolling her eyes, but tough. They were both a little overprotective of the human.

“That’s the plan.” Tia grimaced. “Sorry to miss out on Christmas Eve cocktails.”

“It’s okay. Bastian and I were thinking of taking Sloane to Paris to see the lights anyway.” Emma smiled as she mentioned her younger half sister. “Kole might even join us since we’re definitely not visiting the rest of my family.” She made a face.

Yeah, Emma’s mom and brothers—other than Kole, who they were all friendly with—were pretty much the worst people ever.

Leah bounced. “And Melly and I have this big family thing planned for Gabriel. Since they haven’t really had a big celebration since their parents died, we wanted to make it special.”

“Gabriel must rue the day you and his sister became close.”

Leah stuck her tongue out at Emma.

“Well. Good.” Tia pressed her lips into a smile. “We all have plans, then.” She should’ve expected they’d have plans, she told herself, listening with one ear as Leah asked Emma about Paris. They had partners now, families. It wasn’t just the three of them anymore.

Maybe she could have a holiday romance with an English warlock.

It wasn’t like any of the American ones were interested.

Much too polite and deferential. She deserved someone who would drag her out of a room, push her against a wall and just go to town.

It had been too long since someone had been to town.

She was starting to worry she’d never have a visitor again.

Except this was a business trip. A business trip where she was fake dating her ex who wasn’t her ex. Not exactly rife with chances to meet someone and unwind .

She had an investment to secure anyway. Better to focus and not let sex distract her.

I’m in your hands.

The whisper slunk into her mind, all curling vowels and suggestive consonants.

She resolutely shoved it right the fuck out.

* * *

Henry waited in the foyer of the Pearlmatter mansion, two bags at his feet.

He’d been ready to go with one but his mom had thrown up her hands at the idea of a person surviving on a single suitcase.

She’d handed him a second packed bag over an hour later.

He felt like a kid about to go on a school trip.

He allowed it because he knew, despite her assurances, she was feeling the nerves. She wasn’t the only one.

He’d been ready for half an hour and everything inside him coiled tight in anticipation of Tia arriving. He was pretty sure the feeling wasn’t returned. He was her ex, he supposed, but still. He had his work cut out for him on this trip—professional and personal.

Normally, they’d portal to England, but they’d decided two weeks ago, with everything Tia and Henry needed to go over, to charter a jet instead.

Figuring to spend as much time with her as possible, Henry had requested to ride with her to the hangar; she’d agreed with gritted teeth and he’d thanked her with a chuck under her chin.

He was positive he’d been inches from losing his fingers.

Why did that amuse him so much?

The memory master he’d seen had urged Henry to go with his instincts, that his mind would follow paths it knew were there, like a man who’d gone blind but knew his environment.

Apparently, his instinct was to challenge Tia.

He didn’t know what that said about them, but he noted it down with his other observations, like the way her eyes turned stormy and her skin flushed at every subtle innuendo.

She hadn’t lost her shit—yet—but he figured it wouldn’t be long.

Maybe when she shed the stiff politeness, something would shift in the black haze.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the marble behind him and his grin faltered. His dad moved into view, a manila folder in his hands.

“You ready?” Richard said, sliding his free hand into his pants pocket. Above, the whirr of the ceiling fan rustled his hair and the nearby leaves of a giant potted palm.

“I think so. I’m just waiting for Tia.”

“Mmm.” Disapproval lurked in eyes that matched his. “You want to watch yourself with her.”

Henry cocked his head with a quizzical frown.

“She’s quicksand. You got out once before. Don’t make the mistake again.”

“You don’t like her.”

His dad pursed his lips, shadows dipping behind his watchful gaze. “She’s just not a good influence.” As if to avoid more questions, he offered the folder. “I made you this. A cheat sheet of the pitch. It, ah, should help.”

Henry took it, lifting it in acknowledgment. “Great, thanks.”

They stood there awkwardly for a few more seconds.

It had always been this way, from the moment Henry became aware that other dads were different than his.

He’d worked twice as hard as his friends to get half the attention.

It wasn’t that his dad was cold, he was just…

distant. He’d never figured out if that was worse.

“You need anything, just call,” Richard said finally, clumsily patting Henry’s shoulder. “I’m sure your mom will want you to anyway. You can always use the mirror. Or, you know, your cell.”

Henry nodded.

Another silence.