Page 6 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

The warlock was nothing like he’d expected, contradicting the cold, stiff-upper-lip British stereotype.

Instead, he was warm, loud and excessively enthusiastic.

About everything. His familiar had joined him, a snowy white cat that was outrageously plump and bared its teeth at anyone who dared go near it.

His opposite, Siddeley explained with a booming laugh.

He was currently listening to Tia as she told him about Toil and Trouble, the bar she’d opened with her friends.

It was strategic of her to downplay the rebellion it represented, the whispers from society she’d provoked—not that Tia ever cared what others thought of her.

She always went her own way. No matter who she left behind.

“ Love a good pub,” Siddeley enthused as she paused, nodding vigorously as he looked to his associates, who all dutifully nodded back.

“A real sense of community in a pub. Shoulder to shoulder with the common man. That’s what matters—people.

Witches and humans alike. I find humans fascinating, don’t you?

” He didn’t stop to let her answer. “And to name it with a nod to witchkind. Droll, very droll, Lady Hightower. Most amusing!” He tilted his head back, letting out another bellow of laughter.

Tia watched him like he belonged in a straitjacket. Henry coughed to hide his amusement, turning Siddeley’s attention to him.

“And the young Lord Pearlmatter,” he was addressed, much to his chagrin since it made Tia snigger. “What do you do in your spare time?”

Static filled his brain as he faltered. “Well, I…” He glanced at his dad, who silently urged him to answer. “I…” Fuck. He couldn’t think of anything.

The truth was work consumed his life, and he doubted the English Lord wanted to hear about his movie tastes or how he preferred buttered popcorn over sweet.

Tia cleared her throat. “The young Lord Pearlmatter runs,” she crooned, the pointed jab unsubtle enough to have others in their group shifting.

Henry’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

Siddeley nodded sagely. “Physical exercise, so important. Capital, Pearlmatter! How far do you run?”

“As far as he can go while still being in earshot of his daddy.” Tia’s smile was poisoned sweetness until she flinched, gaze cutting down. Henry followed it to her nana’s cane. As he watched, it poked her in the leg again before retreating.

Henry intercepted before anyone else could. “She’s just joking, Lord Siddeley. Tia rarely takes anything seriously.” There , he thought, baring his teeth at her. We’re even.

Or not.

“I might joke around some,” she admitted to Siddeley, leaning in like they were friends sharing secrets, “but once I give my word, I commit. You’ll never see me change my mind on a whim. Henry, on the other hand…”

“Funny, I’ve seen you change your mind very quickly,” he retorted, their last fight flickering to life like an electrical storm, gathering heat under his skin. “And for pointless reasons.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Just because I have a spine and stand by my own convictions—”

“Stand by them?” He snorted. “You build walls out of them. Shrines. You might as well be failing people before they even try.”

“Did you try? All I remember was a whole lot of giving up .”

His stinging retort died on his tongue as his dad gave a pointed—and irritated—cough.

Shit. Shit, shit, SHIT. He recoiled, falling back from where he’d edged closer to Tia, dread making his skin clammy.

Siddeley was glancing between them, a smudge of confusion on his brow. “Is…something wrong?” he asked, hesitation between the words.

Henry plastered on a tight smile. “Of course not. We…bet on a football game and she lost. Sore loser.”

Tia’s eyes drilled daggers into him but she said nothing, clearly realizing she—both of them—had stepped over the line. He didn’t dare look at his dad. Instead, he wrapped a hand around Tia’s upper arm. “Excuse us a minute.”

She waited approximately ten seconds before muttering, “If you don’t get your paws off me right now, I swear I’ll hex bag you.”

“Easy, you alley cat,” he said under his breath, steering them out of the event space.

He towed her complaining ass into the hall before shoving her into the first vacant room.

One long bench stacked with various potions and bottles, burners and lab equipment stretched the length of the room.

A pile of data crystals was neatly organized under the lip in a hidden shelf, metal stools tucked in.

Warning, a sign on the white wall above read. Atmosphere Could Be Volatile.

They got that right. He released Tia and took a large step back, away from her scent, the feel of her skin, before it imprinted on him. He flexed his hand by his side as he faced her.

She brushed the bare skin he’d touched, eyebrows drawn tight. “Don’t ever go caveman on me again.”

“It was your fault. What the hell was that?”

She didn’t play dumb, instead crossing her arms under her chest. He tried not to watch as the globes of her breasts plumped under that teasing crisscross of fabric. “We fucked up,” she stated baldly.

It was automatic to say, “You started it.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

He knew it was childish. He knew it. But Goddess help him, Tia always could set him off.

He used to crave the challenge until he realized that catching her was like catching smoke.

Even with his fire magic, nobody could hold what didn’t want to be held.

She called it giving up. He called it recognizing the inevitable.

He shrugged in response, knowing it would start her eye twitching.

She blew out a breath, stalking up and down the length of the lab bench. Her body moved under the silk and he felt desire twist his spine.

She spun back. “I am not losing this investor because you’re a rash I can’t get rid of. You need to back off.”

He choked. “Me?”

“It’s obvious we can’t work together, so you need to let me reel him in. He likes me.”

His gaze dipped to her breasts.

“Don’t you dare.”

He smirked.

“Pig. All I’m saying is I’m charming and I’ve got the knowledge to land this account.”

His hands left his pockets as he took a challenging step forward. “You might know a little about potion research, but I’ve been in the business of growing companies half my life.”

“Bully for you.”

He ignored her. “I should be the one to talk to him. I know about our plans, our base and how our business is primed for investment.”

“And how’re you going to do that if you don’t know the product?” she exclaimed triumphantly. “I know our potions like the back of my grimoire. I get down and dirty while you keep clean. When’s the last time you did anything with your own two hands?”

“What, you want her number?”

Danger sparked in those hazel irises. “Real men don’t brag. They don’t have to. And we’re not talking about sex.”

He really wished he hadn’t seen her red lips curl around that word.

“You think you know our business better than me? I share an office with you, Tia. I’ve seen you work on a curse for two hours instead of looking at any growth charts, or marketing plans, or budgets…

” Damn unnerving that curse had been, too, especially how detailed it had been, down to its inflections.

And the less said about the doodle of him as a pig, the better. “I should be the one to pitch him.”

“He’s investing in our potions. In how they can go global. He’s interested in people. Not robots.”

He clapped a hand to his chest. “What a hit.”

“I bet you can’t even remember what goes into a simple Aphrodite mix.” With the name of the beginner’s-level potion on her lips, she pressed her hands against the bench, tipping forward in challenge. “How’re you going to convince him of product knowledge and the market for it if you don’t know it?”

“I know it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He braced his hands on the other side, matching her so they were almost nose to nose. The air was thick between them. “What’s more, any potion I created would be more effective than any one you made.”

“Okay,” she said, humoring him. “Let’s get you back to your dad. You’re malfunctioning without him here to put words in your mouth.”

Blunt annoyance shoved under his skin. “Let’s do it.”

“Do what?”

He held her stare. Restraint was long gone and he was making a stand.

“We both brew a potion. Whoever’s is the most effective gets to make the pitch to Siddeley.

Winner takes all.” He heard a warning go off in his brain, how stupid this was, but couldn’t stop the challenge as he purred, “Or are you chicken, Tia?”