Page 34 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

twenty-two

Two weeks before Christmas, Siddeley turned the festive dial to an eleven.

Every room Tia walked into looked like it belonged in Whoville, the impact so dazzling she joked to Henry about going blind.

Every member of staff wore a nod to the season in their hair or on their clothes, even Primm, who seemed desperate to pretend he wasn’t wearing a bright green tie that played “Silent Night.”

She’d never admit it, but Tia was getting into all this Christmas stuff. It was cheesy as anything but it was sort of nice to see everyone laughing, all the lights and the snow. And if she had to be stuck with someone, it might as well be Henry.

She was in such a good mood she didn’t even mind their latest group activity, Westhollow’s annual Christmas light competition.

Siddeley had shown them the website that morning where they could vote after the walkthrough, encouraging them to get involved.

Tia had scoffed but was secretly enjoying the hell out of judging each display.

The group stopped at the fifth business in the town square, a florist, where twenty red-and-green bouquets hung at varying lengths out the front window, lights sparkling in each one.

Glittering silver reindeer lined the street under the window with a sleigh carrying a poinsettia centerpiece at the end.

It was her favorite so far. She slid her cell out, snapping a photo before quickly putting it back in her coat pocket before anyone saw. After all, Tia Hightower didn’t do sentimental.

She snuck a look behind her and cursed as Henry winked. Yeah, he’d noticed, and he’d rag on her later for it. Good thing she could take it out on his body and shut him up.

A sacrifice she was willing to endure. Again and again and again.

As if he heard her thoughts, his cheeks creased with a knowing smile.

He kept talking to Sawyer but his eyes dragged down her body, lingering and intent.

Her breath hitched, mind flying back two hours to when he’d found her in their bathroom, lifted her onto the vanity and buried his head between her thighs as she panted and moaned and clutched blindly at him.

The things that man could do with his tongue…

Flushing, she used her middle finger to scratch her nose and turned her back before she overheated.

Mina made a noise next to her. “You’re so into each other,” she drawled in her lyrical accent. “It’s kind of sickening.”

Bashing her first instinct—complete, passionate denial—Tia formed an embarrassed smile. “Sorry. He’s…not shy.”

“Hey, if I had a man look at me like that, I’d never leave the bedroom.” Mina tucked her hands into her suede jacket, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. “Sorry to be blunt but the man oozes sex. He’s good, right?”

Tia choked. Refusing to fan herself in December, she brazened it out. “Let’s just say he’s a great multitasker.”

“Ay.” Mina boldly checked Henry out. “No wonder you found your way back together.”

Tia’s nerves pinched. “What about you?” she said, flipping the tables. “Sawyer seems to know you well. Have you two ever…?”

“Once.” Mina shrugged, angling a look at the handsome warlock cracking a joke. “But he’s a boy in man’s clothing. Peter Pan,” she explained at Tia’s frown. “I need a man who’s grown.”

Tia thought of Henry and his dad, a cloud on her horizon. “Amen to that.” She nudged her chin to the only building on the block that sneered at the very idea of tinsel. “What about Damon? Gorgeous, owns his own business.”

Amusement stamped Mina’s features. “Maybe for a holiday fling. I can’t imagine dealing with that attitude on a daily basis.”

“Maybe he just needs some multitasking.”

They both laughed.

“Ladies!” Siddeley came over, Annaliese in tow. The spell-weaver looked as shiny-eyed as the English warlock, probably more to do with the flask she’d been passing around than her love of Christmas. “What do you think of our little competition?”

Tia let out a breath as her gaze moved over the square. “It’s pretty cool. Awesome, really. They go all out. Well, most of them.”

Siddeley’s grin faltered at the undecorated bakery, a black spot in a sea of glitter. “Yes, Damon resists the tradition for reasons of his own. Won’t even put up a Christmas tree.” He shook his head, mystified. “But live and let live, I say. We are all cogs in this great clock of life.”

Clearly, someone else had had a nip or three from Annaliese’s flask.

Annaliese sighed, the American dressed like a ski bunny. “I loved the mechanic’s, with the car turned into a sleigh and all the lights and figurines.”

Considering the town mechanic was a tatted giant of a ginger, that had been one of the night’s biggest surprises.

“Yes, Jenkins did superbly, didn’t he?” Siddeley rubbed his hands together. “Well, before we go around the residents, how about I try to convince Damon to make some of his famous candy cane coffee?”

“That sounds amazing,” Annaliese breathed, clutching the flask and spinning until she had to reach out to Mina for balance.

Tia took one look at Siddeley’s face—a face that said, honey, kiss me, I’m headed to war— and said, “I’ll come with. I could use the, uh, break from walking.”

He jumped on her offer like it was the last Christmas tree on the farm.

They left the group behind, Tia waggling her eyebrows at Henry when he tilted his head in question.

Matching her steps to Siddeley’s, Tia sent out a breath and watched it plume white.

A week ago, she’d have dove down this warlock’s throat, data crystals first, at this opportunity.

Her mom would’ve opened his mouth for her, insisting she use this to her advantage.

But Tia kept quiet, appreciating the hum of Christmas music in the background and the clean, crisp air. The now. Reality would hit soon enough.

Siddeley paused at the doorway, clutching the handle. “He, ah, might be a tad grumpy so best leave the talking to me.”

Tia nodded, something like affection taking root as Siddeley heaved in a breath and opened the door.

Damon glanced up from the counter where he was leaning over an open book, a steaming mug by his elbow. He didn’t smile.

“Good evening, Damon!” Siddeley ambled to the younger warlock, kitted out in green and red, the bell on his bobble hat chiming.

Damon’s eyes lingered on it. “We’re closed.”

“Then why do you keep the door unlocked?” Tia asked, leaning against one of the stools.

“Hadn’t got around to locking it.”

“We were hoping to convince you to make some of your scrumptious candy cane coffee.” Siddeley sent him a winning smile.

It was lost on Damon. “Should’ve come earlier.”

Tia glanced at the book, the words upside down. “Good book?”

“Yes.”

“You want to get back to it?”

“Yes.”

She leaned in. “Then make us eight candy cane coffees.”

A fleeting impression of amusement lit his dark eyes before he grunted. He conjured a small bookmark, sliding it between the pages and closing the cover.

“You’re a peach,” she called out, smiling, settling onto the stool to wait. “He’s fun,” she told Siddeley, who was blinking at her like she’d turned water into wine. Which wasn’t that hard; she had a cousin who could transmogrify. “Doesn’t really fit with the rest of the town, though.”

“He’s not as bad as you think.” Siddeley dropped onto one of the stools. He picked up a plastic menu, smoothing his hands over it. “He has his story, much like everyone does.” Before she could pry, he changed the subject. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“It’s great,” she said truthfully. “My family doesn’t do any of this kind of stuff so it’s cool to see everyone go mad for it.”

“Your parents don’t decorate for Christmas?” The question shivered with absolute horror.

She hid a smile. “They put up a tree,” she reassured him, “but that’s about it. We don’t even really go big on presents. My mom says you should show the people you love that you appreciate them all year round, not because a holiday dictates it.”

Siddeley sat back, pursing his lips. His bell tinkled. “I don’t argue with the sentiment,” he agreed, “but there’s something special about committing to a big celebration once a year.”

“My friend Leah loves it.” And now that Leah had Gabriel’s house to decorate, she’d go nuts. The staid warlock would let her do it, too. Gabriel would dress up in a sequined Santa suit if it made Leah happy. “I usually spend Christmases with her and our other friend, Emma.”

“Not this year?”

“They both have plans.”

“Will you be with Henry?”

Tia faltered. She attempted a smile. “Yes.”

“Well, at least you have him for Christmas.”

He’d probably have his memories back by then.

No playing with potions all morning to create the best cocktail or watching him roast chestnuts with his magic.

No drinking mulled wine until their kisses turned tipsy.

No unwrapping each other. Their issues would build brick by brick between them until they were on opposite sides.

She couldn’t forgive him and he couldn’t understand her.

Instead, she’d be with her parents for a casual dinner and holiday movie before going back to her apartment. Leah would be with Gabriel and his sister; Emma would likely be whisked off by Bastian for another amazing trip. And she’d be alone again.

She shoved that down, deep inside where she didn’t have to face it.

“My parents don’t hate the holidays,” she elaborated, twisting the subject away from her and Henry. “They broke up once around this time of year for a few months. I think it’s a bit touchy for them. The memories.”

“Then they should replace them with great ones! Second chances are what this season is all about! Take you and Lord Henry. You’d never know the two of you had a day apart with how in love you are.”

She wanted to cringe. No, she wanted to bolt out the door and stick her face in the snow, since a cooling potion wasn’t in range.

“I guess,” she sidestepped, the first hint of peppermint uncurling in the air from the kitchen, “we have the business to thank for that.”