Page 46 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

Only Rudy made any sound for the next thirty seconds.

Henry ducked his head, staring at his boots. The snow was melting around him, revealing the hint of grass. “Did you ever talk to me about this back then?”

“What does that matter?”

Fire flashed in his veins, pushing against his skin, and the snow steamed. “Just answer,” he said tightly.

“Yeah, I did.”

She was lying. If she’d tried, he’d have listened. He would have. His teeth ground together. “Really? Or did you start arguments and throw insults around?”

She backed up. “Uh, what the hell is that meant to mean?”

“It’s just a question.”

“An insulting one. Of course I tried. Not that you were bothered.” She stared at him, defiant. Just like in that garden. “It’s not like you came after me.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed but he couldn’t deny it.

Call it pride, call it stubbornness. He’d tried to talk to her at a party after giving her some time to cool down and it had gone so badly, he’d realized she was closing herself off to any possibility of their getting back together.

He’d figured he’d wait, let her come to him… and they’d never recovered.

He took a breath in and let it out. He had a lot to think about. He wasn’t blameless—but neither was she.

He ruffled his hair, searching for words. “Thanks. For telling me.”

“Sure.” She folded her arms, saying sarcastically, “You asked a question. You want a kiss?”

He recognized she was baiting him, but his mama didn’t raise a fool. “Sure.”

Growling, she pointed at her ass. “Kiss this.”

Swiveling on her inappropriate heels that made that ass look incredible, she stalked toward the house. He knew the amusement tangling with annoyance probably made him sick, but it was why they were perfect for each other.

She didn’t make it a foot before he tackled her. He turned them in midair so she landed on him, both grunting as they hit snow. Rudy woofed from nearby and sprinted over to throw his body on top of Tia’s. Henry lost his breath.

“Get…off…Rudy,” she wheezed, pushing at his bulk. He gave her a happy lick then bounded off again.

She levered up to stare at Henry. He wrapped around her, preventing her from standing. “What. The. Hell?” she spaced out.

“I need you to do something,” he said, very seriously. His ass was going numb in the snow but he could take it. What he couldn’t take was not finishing this.

“You tackled me.” A tickle of mania ran through her words, as if she couldn’t believe it.

“Celestia.”

“ What ? You need me to do what?”

He leveled her with a look. “Stop walking away.”

She quit struggling.

“People fight,” he said, their argument still echoing in his ears. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that they stick. If…” For a moment, he faltered, hesitant.

Her face was the same. “If?” she prompted.

“If we want another shot at this,” he said carefully, making her hands slacken on his chest, “we need to do things differently. I’ll listen. And you stick.”

Her mouth parted. “I…” she began, seeming clueless what to say. “I don’t…”

He shifted under her, letting go with one hand to press hers to his lips. “Just think about it.”

She stared dumbly down at him. Wide eyes, parted lips. So fucking adorable.

With Tia, it was all about keeping her off balance so she couldn’t find solid ground to shove him away. Which meant…he still had to keep his memories to himself.

This was more progress than he’d ever made.

In the past, every time he’d stepped a foot over the line she’d marked, she’d shot at it.

No way would she have let him kiss her, hold her, try to understand why she’d shut him out.

He was so close. And when he knew they were solid again, he could tell her everything.

Brushing aside any unease at how she’d take it, he shifted his other hand down to her ass and tapped it. “Now,” he said, with a wicked smile, “I’ll claim that kiss you offered.”

Tia yelped as he spun her into the snow. He hiked her dress up and smoothed a hand over her cheeks before proving he was a warlock as good as his word.

And when they walked up to the house an hour later, he tangled his hand in hers, idly hoping nobody commented on the giant patch of grass where the snow had mysteriously melted.

* * *

Tia offered Siddeley the falayla root, explaining how all the tiny grounds needed to stay level in the jar. “So,” she said, guiding him to the glass bowl they’d set up on the dining table, “the next step is to add a pinch of this to the mixture.”

Standing next to her in the room they’d commandeered for potion making, Siddeley took the jar as carefully as a newborn. He unscrewed the lid and set that aside, reaching in to grasp some of the pink sand.

Tia smiled encouragingly as he glanced at her. “Yep, straight in.”

On the opposite side, she saw Henry hide his grin as Siddeley, exuberant as a kid, did as ordered. The liquid in their bowl shivered and turned pink.

Siddeley exclaimed in astonishment. “Capital, Lady Tia! What’s next?”

Sunlight streamed through the French doors where Siddeley’s familiar lay sprawled, barely blinking as Tia added a dash of sugar-spun agent from her own supplies. Their mixture hissed and bubbled frantically for ten seconds before calming.

She leaned back, gesturing. “Now we stir three times clockwise, and once counterclockwise with a brass spoon.”

Henry handed over the correct spoon from the other side of the table. “The brass is important because it adds positivity to the mix.”

“Fascinating.” Siddeley’s brow furrowed as he concentrated on his task. “Would you use different spoons for different mixes?”

“Depends on the potion master.” Tia watched him, eagle-eyed to intervene if he went over his strokes. “Some religiously stick to the precious metals, while others imbue a spoon with their magic and think that’s enough. Every master has their secrets.” She grinned.

He completed his four circles and withdrew the spoon. “And now?”

“Now we wait for thirty-six minutes.” Tia tapped a crystal on the side of the pot and placed it on the table. “When the quartz turns pink, it’s ready.”

Siddeley hummed in his throat, eyes bright. “It’s rather fun, isn’t it?”

“Best part of the job,” Tia agreed, reaching around for her bottle of water. Uncapping it, she swallowed half, peeking over at Henry. He winked and she felt herself flush like a moron.

It was early afternoon, only a few days before the Snowflake Ball and the official end of their time at Silkwood Hall.

Rather than stewing over that, she’d suggested to Henry a final power play to get Siddeley on their side.

It was Tia who’d come up with Potion Making 101, while Henry had posed the idea of brewing something to add to the champagne, should guests want it.

Siddeley had leaped at the chance and if his grin was anything to go by, their afternoon had been a success.

They were luring him in one pinch and one stir at a time. Not that the investment seemed as all consuming as it had almost a month ago.

This doesn’t really change anything. You are who you are.

I’ll listen. You stick .

“Do you think your guests will try it?” the warlock who’d strongly indicated he wanted a second chance asked.

Still reeling from that, Tia awkwardly offered him the bottle of water and he passed with a shake of his head, giving her a quick smile in thanks.

It made her heart flutter. She should really smack herself for being such a girl.

Siddeley’s cheeks creased. “I jolly well do. Who doesn’t love a good cheer around Christmas?” Thankfully, he didn’t pause for an answer. “I thought you heated potions,” he added, studying the glass bowl.

Tia set the bottle down. “Some. Depends on the result you’re trying to get. This is a pretty beginner potion.”

“Didn’t trust me with an expert level, eh?” He boomed a laugh as her face froze. “I’m pulling your leg, Lady Tia. I wouldn’t trust me with an expert-level potion. I could blow us all sky-high.”

“Potions can have serious consequences,” she confirmed wryly, flicking her eyes in Henry’s direction. He wiggled his eyebrows. “But,” she continued, burying her laugh, “in the right hands, it’s very safe.”

“You have to wonder why people buy potions ready-made when they can brew something in their own kitchen.”

Tia’s ears perked up, recognizing the shift in his mindset. “Well,” she said, keeping her body relaxed, “there’s the convenience. People buy store-bought cakes and cookies all the time, even though they could make their own.”

Siddeley nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true.”

“And some people are too scared to mess around with certain ingredients,” Henry put in. “So you get assured safety as well. Of course, more time and ingredients and magic spent on a potion equals a higher price tag, so you have to market accordingly.”

Tia picked up the thread, sliding into a rhythm with him that was as natural as breathing. “A teenage witch isn’t going to drop hundreds of dollars on a Time-Turner potion, for example—it softens wrinkles for twenty-four hours,” she explained at Siddeley’s blank look.

“And some are marketed as fun extras for bachelor or bachelorette parties, corporate retreats, even teenage sleepovers.” Henry shrugged. “The possibilities are endless, from business to personal.”

“Indeed, it seems so.” Siddeley studied their potion before looking between them. “May I say, it’s delightful to see people passionate about their jobs. Not enough of that going around.”

“Yes, we’re very passionate,” Henry said with a straight face.

“We are,” Tia returned with a warning jab of telekinesis that made his eyes warm with laughter. “I don’t believe in half measures in anything. Neither of us does.”

“I see that.” Siddeley leaned his weight on the table, mirroring them. “It’s sometimes hard to find that honest enjoyment in business these days—people have the drive but they lack soul. Words are just words at the end of the day.”

“Actions speak louder.” She didn’t dare look at Henry but felt his gaze on the side of her face.

“Precisely,” Siddeley agreed. “Take the pair of you for instance. When you first arrived, you were both very rigid, so keen on hooking the big fish.” He winked broadly and she cracked a weak smile. “Now look at you both, relaxed, smiling, passionate again instead of desperate.”

She winced.

“I do beg your pardon,” Siddeley rushed to add, holding his hands up. “I wasn’t trying to be insulting. It’s just that being too invested in business at your age can be such a bad idea.”

Tia blinked slowly. Okay, that was…not what she’d expected a potential investor to say.

Siddeley bent to pick up the chubby white cat as it prowled over and wrapped around his legs.

Her purr rumbled in the room as he stroked a hand down her back.

“Passion is wonderful but work will always be there. Now is the time to devote yourselves to each other. Trust me.” His hand faltered.

“You don’t want to wake up one day and find you have nobody but employees around you. ”

A knot formed in Tia’s chest, tied double tight.

You listen. I’ll stick.

But would he? Would he still mean it when he remembered their past? Would he even want to try? Wanting someone was different from wanting to put in the effort to make it work. He’d already decided she wasn’t worth it once. She wasn’t sure her heart would survive a second shattering.

And she didn’t know why she was even thinking about this when she wasn’t sure what she wanted. It was too much, too soon. And yet, it felt like it had taken them years to get here.

After a long—too long—pause, Henry said, “We’re happy in the work.”

“I’m sure, but a little Christmas magic and time off certainly seems to have done you a world of good.” Siddeley shook his head before they could say anything else, chuckling. “Forgive me. I’m coming off as a patronizing fool. It’s the season. Always gets me reflective.”

While Siddeley easily shifted topics to the upcoming ball, Tia gathered her courage and slowly lifted her gaze. Green eyes locked on her, intense. Sorrowful. Determined. Her stomach dropped to her feet.

But for once, she didn’t throw up her barriers. She didn’t smirk or make a face or look away. And when he smiled, her heart pulsed wildly. From fear, yes—but also with a little bit of hope.