Page 7 of Season of the Witch (Toil and Trouble #3)

five

She never could resist a dare.

As they set their brewed Dionysus potions on the lab bench—making an Aphrodite potion was out for obvious reasons—Tia couldn’t decide if accepting this one had been really, really stupid or really, really smart. She liked to think it was the second but had a horrible suspicion it was the first.

“Last chance to back out,” Henry challenged in that low, smooth purr he’d used to throw down the gauntlet. Knowing damn well she’d pounce on it, especially after bickering like a child in front of a huge investor. She needed a win.

Although her stomach jumped, she thrust up her chin. “Don’t even try it. Just be glad we didn’t set a side bet.”

“We could do it now,” he challenged with a sweep of his hand. Cocky as hell, like he’d always been before he’d tried to act above it all for the company. Gloves were off, then.

She sneered. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“You sure?”

“Set the terms.”

There was only the murmur of background noise as he studied her intently, the party still in full swing even after the forty minutes they’d been absent.

Goddess knew what her family was thinking.

Maybe that she’d finally killed him and was trying to figure out where to dump the body.

There was always that active volcano Emma had shown her photos of last week.

Her friend liked to travel and would know all the best burial places.

A gleam appeared in Henry’s eyes that was downright unsettling. “All right. Loser has to compliment the winner in front of the entire office.”

Tia snorted, cocking a hip, her dress parting to expose a thigh. “Amateur. Always thinking small.”

He gestured in invitation. “Have at it.”

He wished. “Loser,” she drawled after a moment to think, “has to attend a society ball in their underwear.”

He blanched. “What are you, twelve? No way.”

“Always so worried about other people.”

“Or common sense?”

She shrugged. “Overrated.”

“How much have you drunk tonight?”

“Just enough to stomach the sight of you.”

He glowered. “Pick something else. Private.”

“The days of private showings are well over, babe. Move on.”

He ignored that. “Maybe loser should stop making hex bags and hiding them around our office.”

Ha. She knew that’d get to him.

She crossed her arms, rocking back on one foot. He was so concerned with reputation and what his dad would think. He hadn’t cared so much when they were younger. Now, though…it’d take a bulb up his butt to get him to lighten up.

Speaking of…

She tilted her head to the side in consideration. “How about…when I win you have to wear a cap that says ‘Daddy’s little boy’?”

He choked.

She trapped the laugh bubbling up her throat. “Scared to lose, Pearlmatter?”

His narrow-eyed stare was expected. His slow, “All right,” was not.

Surprise turned into a thousand butterflies in her belly. “All right,” she confirmed, half disbelieving, turning to the potions. “Shall we…?”

“But when I win,” he interrupted, mirroring her again by crossing his arms, “you have to wear a T-shirt that says ‘Daddy’s girl.’” His eyes glinted. “And I’ll wear one that says ‘Daddy.’”

It was her turn to choke. He couldn’t be serious.

Oh, but he was. And daring her again.

Her fingers twitched for a hex bag at his smug expression. He thought she’d throw in the towel. Run scared. Puh-lease.

Why was she even worried? It might have been a few years since she’d made Dionysus—a fun potion that caused a drunk-like rush for a short time—but she had alchemy in her blood. She had this.

“Game on.” She thrust out her hand and he extended his. Something jolted down her spine at the contact, the first they’d made in years. It hit low and deep, twisting and uncurling as they shook. Magic sparked.

His eyes were dark when he let go. “Ladies first.”

Surreptitiously, she wiped her palm down her thigh before picking up her potion to uncap.

“Wait.”

She slid him a sideways look. “What now?”

He made a motion. “Drink mine.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious.”

“And that’s what makes it so funny.”

Her words made his jaw tighten. “It’s only fair if we judge the effects of each other’s potion. Otherwise, we could fake it.”

She batted her lashes. “But you can’t tell when I—”

His growl cut her off and she tamped down a grin. He’d left himself wide open for that one.

She measured his logic, reluctantly accepting it. Acting giddy wouldn’t be hard but picking a winner would be if neither admitted their potion didn’t work—which neither of them ever would.

“Fine,” she choked out.

He grinned. “You mean, I’m right.”

“I mean, I don’t trust you to be honorable.”

He clutched his chest, expression not dimming. “Ouch.”

She exchanged her bottle for his and shook it, examining the bubbles that fizzed. After waiting a few seconds for the mixture to calm, she pulled the stopper out and inhaled. Rose and juniper. All signs pointed to it being brewed properly so far. Damn it.

She kept that to herself as she toasted him with the bottle. “Just so you know, if this kills me, I’m coming back as a spirit to eternally haunt your ass.”

“Where’s the difference? Can’t get rid of you anyway.”

Her chest pinched as she glowered. Jerk.

She might’ve been faking the fear for his benefit but as she tilted the bottle, unease chased the liquid down her throat.

One beat passed. Then two. “Well, I’m alive at least,” she mused.

“Damn.” He snapped his fingers. “Another plan foiled.”

A wide grin split her lips. It took over her face as her head lolled to the side. A short laugh bubbled up and she pressed the empty bottle to her lips, licking at another drop. “Funny. Always…so…funny. Won’t be so funny when I best you, oh, no, no, no.”

He was watching her when she looked up, humor darting around the face she hated to admit was gorgeous.

His smile broadened. “Thanks.”

She frowned. Had she said that aloud?

“Yes,” he replied. He crossed his arms and the muscles in them flexed beneath his shirt, his jacket discarded earlier. Her fingers curled at the sight. “Safe to say my potion worked.”

“Nuh-uh,” Tia heard herself say. She thought about it. “Well, maybe a teensy bit.”

“The temptation to be bad right now,” he murmured, a lock of pale hair brushing his forehead. It was so quiet she wondered if he’d said it to her or himself.

“Right here?” She waggled her eyebrows as she patted the bench before boosting herself up. The split in her dress fell open to display her thigh, smooth brown skin in the overhead lights.

His gaze went there like it was magnetized. “I was…kidding.”

Her sigh was gusty and she leaned back on her hands, tilting her head up to the ceiling. “Talk, talk, talk. Same old Henry.”

“What’s that mean?”

When her head came up, he was closer. Something caught her eye. “You have a small scar.” She brushed his chin with her finger. “I never noticed.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Experiment went wrong. Two years ago. Flying glass.”

She continued to stroke it.

“Tia.”

“Mmm.”

“Stop touching me.”

She stole a look from under her lashes. His expression was closed but his eyes were full of flame. It had been years since she’d seen him look at her like that.

Wrong , her inner self murmured. They didn’t acknowledge it, but sometimes, when he wasn’t expecting it, she’d catch him staring at her. Just. Like. That.

A twinge hit low, her thighs tightening on reflex. She grazed her lip with her teeth as she watched him.

“Tia,” he said, whispered really. A long gap, the space of four heartbeats. His hands bracketed her as his body swayed closer. He took a breath. “Do you ever wish…?”

Something shifted inside. “Yes?”

“If we could go back.” Under her fingers, his jaw hardened. “Do you think…?”

Her thumb touched the corner of his mouth where his smile used to spread. She loved his smile. “Yes?”

He gazed at her, and it was like a curtain briefly pulling away. Longing and desire spilled out, burned into her for one bright second, before his eyes shuttered again.

Swearing, he stepped back. Tia let her hand fall away, fingertips tingling with the feel of his stubble rasping her skin. Her heart confused with the words unsaid. With what she’d seen. The potion softened the edges until that slipped away, a cloud floating to the sky.

“It’ll be done soon,” he said, arms crossed, chin tucked to avoid eye contact. His body was taut. “Five minutes at most.”

Tia didn’t care; she felt too good. She kicked her legs as they waited, but the delight finally drained away, leaving her sick and off balance.

She speared him with a glare, hands tight around the bench’s lip. “It wasn’t supposed to have any Aphrodite elements to it.”

His smirk was by rote, as if he’d forced it. “It didn’t.”

Her face burned, humiliation and insecurity twisting incessantly inside her until they resembled a braided bit of rope. She couldn’t think about what he’d almost confessed, or her response to it. They weren’t supposed to say it aloud. Better to bury that shit deep.

She swallowed hard. “Whatever was said…it was the damn potion.”

“Fine.” He plucked her bottle from the bench. “My turn.” He shook it. “Think I’ll go all giddy, too?”

“I hope you choke on it,” she said sweetly.

He toasted her with the bottle, unstoppering it and tossing it back.

She waited in silence. It had taken her less than a minute to feel the effects. But all he did was stand there.

Shit . It had been a few years since she’d made this one but she’d been pretty sure she’d remembered it right.

When it came to potions, it was all about focus.

You had to keep your intention pure. Okay, maybe she’d had a stray second of desire to wipe any thoughts of her “inferiority” from his mind.

But that was neither here nor there. It should still work.

If it didn’t—she didn’t even want to think about it. She wasn’t made for being on the lam; neither were her heels. But damn if she’d be sticking around to hear him gloat.