Chapter 6

6

Leah patted the couch cushion next to her, gently pushing Delilah, her bossy Dachshund, back so lazy Louie could jump up with them. Blinking his one eye, Louie ignored Delilah's snort as he curled up on Leah's bare toes, his squat body barely any weight at all. For a cavalier, he was incredibly laid-back and eventually Delilah gave in and snuggled next to him.

Rosie, Leah's eight-year-old sprocker spaniel, watched them from her dog bed by the TV cabinet, tail thumping softly as she saw Leah looking. The cats were off somewhere else in the house, likely sunbathing (Sylvie) or poking into dark corners (Ralph).

Leah smiled and said into her cell, "No, Mom, I'm listening. I'm glad you love Tuscany."

"Oh, it's so romantic, Leah," Joyce Miller née Turner babbled on the other end. "George and I took a stroll through the city at twilight and it was like being in a movie. He even pulled me into a dance on our balcony."

"Hmm." The topic of balconies was still a sore one.

"And the food!"

Leah's eyes drifted around her living room as her mom continued to gush. Her house was a mix of old and new: odd antiques, vintage decoration, bright color and a lot of art. Books sat higgledy-piggledy with fake plants—her ability to keep things alive extended only to animals—and dream catchers hung next to old medical equipment. She liked light, so lamps of all types decorated surfaces except for the large floor one that sat by the front door. The whole effect was colorful chaos and suited her down to the ground. Fortunately, Peggy didn't oppose living like this either.

She'd bought the three-bedroom in Englewood about six years ago, investing a chunk of her trust fund before depositing almost all the rest into Toil and Trouble a year later. She didn't regret either decision, especially as the house gave her enough room to keep her animals. All her babies were rescues from the shelter—Louie for losing an eye, if she had to guess, Rosie because she'd been too excitable, and Delilah who, at three years, was her most recent and had been surrendered because of "difficult behavior" (read: barking and digging, which Leah had got under control after six months of consistent training). Her cats had always lived together and sadly had been given to the shelter when their elderly owner had died.

It had broken her heart; they all did, which was why she was at the animal shelter every second she could spare. Sonny, the owner, had pretty much single-handedly run the place until she'd wandered in ten years ago. He was still in good shape for sixty-seven, but even he couldn't manage the constant upkeep and get new adopters in. She now ran the website, the social media and the volunteer walks, taking peanuts for pay because she'd rather him give to the animals than her. Emma hadn't been wrong; Leah's family was comfortable enough that what remained of her trust helped pay for her admittedly hefty animal bill and the mortgage, and her income from the bar paid for the rest.

"All right, enough about me," her mom wound down after making Leah envious over gelato. "I want to know what's been happening since last week."

Leah shifted the phone, laying a hand on Louie. "Well, your grandbabies are all healthy."

"I miss them."

"Them, not me?"

"You give me too much lip," her mom teased.

"That's genetics."

A light laugh. "Can't argue with that. Of course I miss you, sweetheart. I miss our movie nights."

"Me, too."

Ever since Leah had been fifteen, after The Divorce, they'd made movie night a tradition. Every month, three movies in a theme—same genre, same year, same actor, etc.—and a bucket of buttered popcorn. This had to be the longest time they'd gone without movie night.

Still, Leah couldn't begrudge her mom. In fact, she marveled at her. From depressed divorcée to hopeful newlywed in thirteen short years. She could honestly say she was happy for her, even with the small worry of what would happen if this marriage turned out like the first. Those years had been rocky to say the least. At least George was a sweetheart, unlike Leah's dad.

"We'll do a marathon when you get back," she told her mom, pushing the discomforting thought away. "Don't worry about it. I know how much you wanted to travel."

"You sure you can't ditch work and come meet up with us someplace?"

The last thing she wanted was to crash her mom's honeymoon. There were certain sights in this world she didn't need to see.

"I've got too much going on here at the moment," she sidestepped, smiling as Rosie sighed loudly from her basket.

"How did the new bartender work out?"

"Um..." She tried to think how to describe Gabriel without clueing her mom in. "He's...adequate. I'm not sure he'll last." And if he hadn't been hired under special circumstances, she doubted he'd have lasted as long as he had.

"That's a shame. You can't seem to keep someone in that position."

"Maybe we're cursed."

"Well, you did name the bar Toil and Trouble."

Leah chuckled.

"And the shelter?"

Her mood took a nosedive and she began to fidget with the loose material over her knee. "Sonny mentioned the bills again yesterday. We need to bring in more people, I think, cover more of the jobs. It's just finding volunteers to give up the time."

"You'll do it, baby." Her mom's voice was warm, unwavering. "You never met a rock you couldn't bulldoze your way through."

"Is that your way of calling me hardheaded?"

"If it was?"

"I'd say apple and tree."

They chatted for another ten minutes before hanging up, leaving Leah in a pensive mood. She tossed down her phone, making Delilah grumble, and tipped her head back to study the ceiling. The shelter was a growing worry, the flare of an ache that worsened with every grimace or frown Sonny wore.

If they only had more hands, she could concentrate on their website, maybe bring in more donations, facilitate more adoptions. It wouldn't solve everything, but it might erase the pinched look from Sonny's face.

He'd joked about retirement yesterday. She couldn't blame him for finding the idea tempting, but also couldn't bear to think what would happen to the animals if expenses kept climbing and idea turned into action.

She and the dogs passed the next hour watching a documentary on cold cases to get her mind off it. She was so absorbed by the detailing of one killer's victims that the thump at her door had her jolting upright, a squeal trapped in her throat.

Delilah scrambled up with one yip, parking her butt at the front door alongside Rosie, always eager for a visitor. Louie had to be dislodged from Leah's feet since nothing short of a nuclear blast would get him to move once he was situated.

Commanding the dogs to sit, then stay, Leah looked out her peephole and saw nobody. Cautious thanks to the documentary, she cracked the door. Her eyes dropped immediately to the package with her name printed neatly on it.

"Uh-oh, is this when we find out we have a stalker?" she said to the dogs, using her foot to usher Delilah back in when she tried to charge out. Leah scooped up the package and closed the door with her hip, the dogs trailing her as she walked back to the couch.

"Someone here?" Peggy called from upstairs. At the sound of her voice, Rosie bounded up the steps, her tail thumping the walls.

"Just a package. I think it might be an ear."

" What? "

Peggy charged downstairs, closely followed by Rosie. She skidded to a stop, wrapped only in a terry cloth robe, cheeks flushed from the shower. She had a hot date and was determined to spend the afternoon getting ready.

"An ear?" She spotted the bulky package; it was the size of a cushion. "Oh, yeah. That has ‘dismembered body part' all over it."

Leah laughed. "It was outside with only my name on it, so someone dropped it off." She considered the padded envelope. "Not alarming, right?"

"Maybe you have a very cheap admirer."

"Who knows my address."

"Okay, you're creeping me out. Open the thing." Peggy ruffled Rosie's ears, staying well back.

Leah threw caution to the wind, slipping her finger under the lining and tearing it open. She tipped the contents onto the nearby coffee table. A sheet of notepaper fluttered out, followed by a familiar sweatshirt and, to her astonishment, several bills.

"What on earth...?"

"Thank God." Peggy breathed out, pressing a hand to her chest. "No body parts. Unless the ear is wrapped up in the sweater. What's the note say?"

"Ever hear of privacy?"

"I've heard of it."

Leah lifted the paper, scanned the lines. Her mouth parted.

"Well?"

"‘I trust this settles the debt between us,'" she read aloud with a faint tinge of disbelief. "‘You're welcome. Gabriel.'"

"Gabriel. That's the new brooding bartender you're spending nights with?"

"I'm not spending nights with him. At least, not like that." Leah calculated the bills. "Although this would be close to my going rate."

"Uh-huh. But you'd like it to be like that, right?" Peggy snorted a laugh at Leah's bland stare. "We've lived together too long. I know your lusty eyes. You had them for Anthony Bridgerton and you've got them now."

"Oh, shut up."

Peggy grinned, then studied the envelope's contents. "So, why's he paying you?"

"I lent him my hoodie." Leah flicked through the bills, struggling to understand. "What is this? A weird thank-you? A point made?"

"An excellent move to get in your head." Peggy waggled her eyebrows. "You have to hand it to the guy. At least we know he probably asked Emma or Tia where you lived. No stalker, no severed body parts. It's a good day."

Leah smiled faintly. She didn't know what to think.

"Ask him," Peggy advised, likely reading her face. "Maybe it's, I don't know, for dry cleaning, or maybe he stretched it out and knows you'd need to buy another."

"This would buy four."

"So, maybe he's generous. Another point in his favor. I only pray my date is so giving." Peggy bumped her hip with her own. "I'm going to finish getting ready."

Leah didn't bother looking up as she tapped the bills to her chin.

You're welcome.

Her lips twitched, liquid warmth moving through her even as she fought it. Smart-ass.

Later that week, Emma called a meeting for the owners of Toil and Trouble. As Peggy was out on a third date and had cheekily informed Leah not to wait up, she volunteered her house. She didn't ask why they didn't meet at the bar like they usually did; Gabriel was still a sore topic. With everyone.

His note had become an obsession for her, the subtle teasing pointing to a new step in their—their situation . Trying to figure out what that new step was, what she wanted it to be, or wondering what he wanted it to be, was a constant loop in her head.

She was sensible enough to recognize the stupidity of that, enough that she'd pulled back on her shifts with him this week. Instead, she'd made an effort to be civil, with him responding in kind. They were like adversaries circling each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. The tension may just kill her.

Emma arrived first. They sat in the kitchen as they made Cauldron Cosmos, Chester and Leah's dogs milling around their feet as they chatted. Leah badly wanted to ask her friend her thoughts on the note, but Joyce Turner hadn't raised a fool, so she focused on the drink Emma handed her instead.

They'd barely cheers'd when Leah heard the front door open and Tia strode in on ice-pick heels.

"You read my mind," she muttered, seizing her glass. "Here's to us, ladies. Strong and independent may we always be." She clinked both glasses before throwing her drink back. Thanks to the falayla root, it had a good kick. Which was why Leah would stick to one—a woman could only perform Instagram Live karaoke so many times and still hold her head up high. Tia nudged Emma with her shoulder, settling next to her. "Even this traitor."

"I'm getting married, not joining a cult."

"Uh-huh. Not that I'm not thrilled to have a legit excuse to hightail it out of the family bosom, but what's with the summons?"

Emma touched her arm. "You okay?"

"You know me." Tia brushed the increasing demands for her time away with a smile. "It'll take more than my nana's will to wear me down."

"Is she the one you went toe-to-toe with about opening the bar?" Leah asked.

"Yeah. And who won?" Tia toasted herself with the empty glass, then gestured between all of them. "Speaking of which, if we're all here, who's babysitting Goodnight?"

"Bastian said he didn't mind helping out."

"Good, we need all the help we can get." Tia selected a nacho from the plate Leah had prepared, piled it high, then caught sight of Ralph, perched on one of the top cabinets and staring. "Your cat's creepy, Leah."

"He just likes to watch."

"Said every woman before being murdered and found in Lake Michigan."

"My cat isn't going to murder me."

"But he thinks about it."

"Wait—do you actually know that, like, with magic, or are you just trying to freak me out?"

Tia's grin was short-lived as she returned to the previous subject. "Four more bad reviews online. Four. And okay, some social media comments about the grumpy, delicious bartender. But guys, four . We're losing business."

Emma bit her lip. "That's why I wanted to talk. It could be a fluke, but we've been less busy the past few nights compared to the same nights last month. I checked the receipts. We've got to do something. Pull him off bartending."

"To do what?" Leah asked, shooing Sylvie away from the nachos she'd made. The cat protested with a miffed yowl. "It's not like he can do our paperwork or bake with you. There's only so much lifting and carrying." Not that she wouldn't mind watching his arms flex in those tailored three-piece suits, or examining how the material stretched over his ass as he bent down.

She gulped some of her cosmo.

"Then he has to go," Tia said flatly. "I hate to be the bitch—"

Leah snorted.

Tia stopped. Considered. "Okay, it's my brand, but still. I relented because of all the bleeding hearts around here. Dead parents, family company, yada yada yada. But if he's actually affecting our business, we can't allow that."

Emma grimaced, but nodded. "That's what I think, too."

"We can't fire him." The words shot from Leah's mouth. When her friends turned raised eyebrows on her, she backtracked hurriedly. Her skin flushed with heat as she toyed with the stem of her glass. "I mean, he's—he's doing it for his family, remember?"

"Here we go," Tia muttered, rubbing her temples.

Leah elbowed her. "I'm serious. He's bad enough at this job and we know his situation. He won't last ten minutes anywhere else."

"And this is our problem, why?"

"T."

"Leah, he's a grown warlock. He'll deal. He'll find another job, maybe fifty other jobs the rate he's going," Tia amended, stroking a bare foot she'd removed from one of her heels over Chester's back. "He'll get through the three months. It's not like he needs money."

"I know it sounds harsh, but she's right." Emma lifted her shoulders, let them drop helplessly. "Maybe he'll find a better position. One where he doesn't have to work with people as much."

"Or somewhere so desperate for people they'll hire anyone," Tia suggested.

Desperate. No people. Hire anyone.

"He could work at the shelter."

The silence that followed Leah's suggestion was palpable.

"The shelter?" Emma sampled the words as if they had a funny taste. A groove dug between her brows. "With you?"

"No." Tia lifted her foot—Chester sighed at the loss—and sat up. "Absolutely not."

Leah dealt her a droll look. "Gee, Mom, I wasn't asking permission. We need people at the shelter. This could be perfect."

"If he finds out—"

"Stop. That record is old, play a new one." Leah scrubbed her hands over her face, then deliberately took a breath. "Look, it's not like I want the man there but we're desperate for help and I can stick him in the back with the animals. He might piss off some puppies but besides getting nipped, it won't have severe consequences. And if he accidentally does any magic, again, the animals aren't going to care." She went for a casual shrug, taking a sip of her drink. The magic zinged down her throat, warming her stomach.

"I thought you hated him," Emma said, suspicion carving through the words like a boat through water. "Why would you want him at the place you spend the most time?"

"I don't hate him. It takes too much energy to hate someone, and I don't need that negativity."

Tia rolled her eyes. "Why are we friends?"

"I don't have to like the man to put him to work. It's kind of a win-win because then I won't feel crappy about helping him lose his family's business." She scowled at Tia's mutter. "Yes, I'm a bleeding heart, sue me."

"I don't like it, Leah." Emma's worry was tangible, a whisper along Leah's cheek. Something rattled in the cupboards before Emma got her magic under control. "I was relieved this past week when you stopped working as many shifts together. It's dangerous, especially as you both dislike each other so much. If he finds out you know about witches, he'll report you. He won't think twice."

Leah set down her glass with a clink loud enough that both friends startled. "Okay, I've put up with this for years and mostly I figured you knew what you were on about so played by your rules. And I still will. But guys, I'm not a child and you can't tell me what to do. I'm your business partner. I'm your friend. You don't have to trust him. You have to trust me . And trust that when I say I'll be fine, I will be." She kept eye contact with both, hands flat on the counter.

I trust this settles the debt between us.

She was telling the truth; despite the other night, she couldn't say she liked Gabriel. She wasn't going to lie and say part of her didn't find that hint of wry humor intriguing, or that she didn't find him wildly attractive. An irritating fact considering he was an ass ninety percent of the time and potentially hazardous to her health (if her friends were to be believed).

But she couldn't abandon him to her world. It just wasn't in her to be that callous, not even if he was only suffering all this for control of a business.

It might not be smart but she'd chosen her path and she didn't sway from it.

"Fine," Tia eventually snapped, conceding with a bad-tempered glower. "We'll trust you."

"Thank you."

The witch held up a finger. "On one condition." Tia's eyes gleamed like Ralph's as he watched them from on high. "Please let me be the one to fire him."