Page 17 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

eleven

Tia skipped lunch in favor of brewing a jet-lag potion, summoning Primm to find the ingredients.

The stoic butler did as requested, setting Tia and Henry up in a room decorated in green-and-red tinsel.

He even sent over a lunch tray of mystery meat sandwiches, which Tia designated as Henry’s job to taste test. The first bite confirmed the bastard still couldn’t be trusted.

He was still chuckling as they headed through the foyer for their first “activity,” her clipped steps followed by his lazy stroll.

“You’re an ass,” she told him over her shoulder.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t share the potion.”

“Yeah, because you’re an ass.”

A small pause. “But that’s why you love me.”

“I don’t —”

He grabbed her hand, spinning her up against the wall. Shocked silent, she gaped as he bent to her ear. “Annaliese is in the next room.”

His breath tickled the sensitive patch of skin behind her ear and she shivered. “How much can she see?” she murmured, hands hovering over his hips before fisting at her sides. Her heart had picked up as soon as he’d entered her space, thumping double time as he continued to lean against her.

“My face and your back.”

She tried to think past his smell, the way his energy vibrated against hers. “Drop a kiss on my head.”

His eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“C’mon. It’ll be freaking adorable. It’ll sell it.” When he hesitated, she pinched his nipple.

His hand clamped down on hers. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Celestia.”

I hate you , she mouthed.

He grinned and leaned left to press a soft kiss to her forehead. She breathed him in as he lingered, a touch of smoke, of citrus, of Henry, the combination fluttering in her chest. The moment he should’ve drawn back passed and neither of them moved.

Instead, his lips drifted to her temple, brushing another kiss there. She stood still, knowing she should protest or back away.

She didn’t.

Encouraged, he eased down, slow and soft, until he was tracing the fine edge of her jaw with his mouth. His hands slid over her hips.

A traitorous melting was happening inside her, hands curling against his chest as she fought not to tip her head to the side, offer him access to her neck. To her lips.

He grazed his teeth over the spot between her jaw and her ear and a moan rose to her throat.

A freaking moan .

She shoved him harder than was necessary.

“Henry.” Her scold was playful even as her gaze should’ve melted his eyeballs. “Wait until we’re in our room, you animal.”

He snorted, his cheeks flushed. He followed her to the door, pausing when his phone chimed. He fished it out of his back pocket. “It’s my mom. Gimme two secs.”

“I’ll be outside.” She didn’t wait for his answer, hurrying the last few feet.

Cold slapped her cheeks as she stepped out, heeled boots sinking deep into Siddeley’s snow.

That didn’t bother her; she could outrun a deranged psychopath in heels.

And even if she couldn’t, she’d take the risk to put a little space between her and her ex right now.

She watched the icy plume exhale from her mouth. Her body felt tight and she rolled her shoulders back, mentally adding bricks to the wall she needed between her and Henry. They’d agreed they’d have to be more touchy-feely, more obviously affectionate. She just hadn’t been prepared for the impact.

She set off down the steps toward the fountain, breathing in the cold until she could feel it in her throat. It was refreshing—not like Chicago, where one step out the door froze your tits off. She smiled with a tinge of homesickness just as something in the fountain caught her eye.

At first, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. Big and bulky, covered in gray-and-white fur, it…no, it didn’t float but kind of hunkered down. Four legs, a tail…

“ Shit .” She bolted forward like a bullet from a gun. A dog, a fucking dog, was in the fountain with its head under water. “Hey, boy,” she shouted as she ran. “Hey, dog!”

It didn’t budge.

Vaguely, she heard Henry’s muffled call through the blood pounding in her ears, but she didn’t pay him any attention.

Instead, she thumbed through the catalog of spells she knew, coming up blank on something to help.

As she reached the lip of the fountain, she didn’t hesitate, swinging her legs over and splashing across to the animal.

The water was freezing, spray from the spouts misting her face and hair, but she was all about the dog as she sank her hands into its fur. “Hey—”

It moved . No, it reared up, like a wild stallion or a beast from hell, sending her lurching back in instinctive panic.

Her foot slipped from under her and she shrieked as she toppled, ass breaking the surface with a splash.

Before she could move, the beast leaped forward, practically waterboarding her as it pushed her under.

She floundered, choking on the water before getting her hands under her, pushing the dog back—or trying as it began delivering kisses of the slobbery wet tongue variety. “ Blegh! ” she managed, turning her face as much as she could. “Get off me, you big idiot!”

Henry drew up short at the fountain. His mouth twitched.

Her eyes narrowed as she successfully held the dog off. “Make a joke. I dare you.”

His lips trembled as he flattened them. “Never.” He cleared his throat, the edge of a laugh trapped there. “You love dogs, huh?”

“I thought it was drowning.”

“In a fountain?”

“You can drown in six inches of water.”

“So you thought he was drowning…voluntarily?”

She succeeded in forcing the big oaf away and pushed to her feet. Water streamed off her, everything sopping. Everything . Her ass was so chilled, it had goose bumps. With all the dignity of a High daughter, she waded to where Henry stood, his eyes dancing.

“If you’d been in here, I’d have strolled past, cackling,” she told him, slicking back her hair.

He pressed a hand against his chest with a mock wounded expression. Then held it out for her. “Allow me, hero.”

Her jaw ticked. She should rise above. That was the sensible, logical, mature…

Screw it.

She slid her hand into his, smiled sweetly—and yanked. Even when the water drenched her a second time, it was worth it. The dog woofed in delight and repeated his trick, putting paws all over the spluttering warlock as she hooted out a laugh.

She’d managed to wring out her hair by the time he surfaced. Using both hands, he wiped his face, flinging water everywhere as he shook. He gave her an arch, unreadable look. “You think that’s funny?”

The dog splashed in the background as she eyed Henry’s damp hair, the drops clinging to his eyelashes, the soaked jeans that would be a bitch to take off, especially since his magic was on the fritz and he couldn’t use a blow-dry spell. “Yeah,” she said, taunting him with a smile. “I do.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t give any warning as he shot forward and yanked her off balance.

She squealed as she went down, landing on top of him and getting a mouthful of water in the process. She spat it out, digging an elbow into his side as she fought to lever herself up. “ Asshole !”

He laughed. His arms were loosely roped around her waist, he was soaked to the skin, his balls were probably literally blue…but he tipped his head back and he laughed. The kind of laugh she hadn’t heard from him in years.

She wanted to hold on to her annoyance, but it slipped from her grasp. A strange aching filled her chest, ballooning outward until she gave in. And smiled back.

Just a small one.

When the dog came to sit next to her, she switched to a scowl. “You’re an idiot,” she told the animal, resisting the urge to scratch its head. “So are you,” she added.

“And you’re adorable wet.” Henry tucked a hank of hair behind her ear. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

When his hand dawdled on the shell of her ear, she stilled, the heart that had slowed pumping harder, faster again. Thankfully, the dog chose that moment to bark and launch out of the fountain.

“Rudy!” a familiar English voice exclaimed, shifting to confusion as he added, “Lord—uh, Henry? Lady Tia?”

Tia closed her eyes momentarily. “Lord Siddeley.” She pushed upward and, after a beat, held out her hand to Henry. He eyed it with some humor before allowing her to help him up.

Both saturated, they turned to the group. The dog, an Old English sheepdog, Tia realized, danced around his master before doing a full body shake. Each witch threw up an air shield instinctively. Everyone was staring.

“We can explain,” Tia said somewhat awkwardly.

* * *

The small town of Westhollow was exactly the kind of place Henry would expect a warlock like Siddeley to live in.

Clusters of cottages on streets with names like Buttercup Drive, Blossom Hill and Daisy Lane gave way to the town square, covered with grass tipped with ice and a wooden gazebo painted fresh white.

Around the square were various businesses, all brightly colored and in good condition, with large glass windows that displayed attractive goods.

Children rode bikes around in packs, and couples walked their dogs or pushed their babies, hand in hand. Everyone was smiling.

“Stepford central,” Tia muttered from where she strode at his side.

He stifled a laugh.

Siddeley brought the group to a stop in front of a navy storefront where gold lettering spelled out “Pie Hard.” A navy-and-white-striped awning shaded the glass window, where cake stands of varying sizes displayed cakes, cookies, muffins and more.

“Pie Hard is an institution in this town,” Siddeley shared with a grin and a pat of his flat belly. “Damon’s lemon cake has been fueling the local gym’s business for years.”

“Damon?” Tia asked. She’d changed into a pair of thick leggings and a violet tunic covered by her coat, all leg and heeled boots. It made Henry’s mouth water. More than any lemon cake, that was for damn sure.

At Tia’s question, Siddeley’s smile dimmed. “Pie Hard’s proprietor. He’s…a character.”