Page 29 of My Faire Lady

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I⁠—”

“I was wondering if you’d help me improve the rest of the faire,” I blurt.

The air between us thins, and whatever we shared a heartbeat ago evaporates.

I blow out a breath. “There still aren’t many people coming to the faire, but you seem to draw them in. I need your help, Lottie.”

Her eyes narrow to slits. “Did Boden talk to you, too?”

“What do you mean?” My blood runs cold. “What did he say to you?”

She waves a hand. “Never mind, it’s nothing.” Weaving around me to the back room, she pauses in the doorway. “I’ll help, but I can’t make clothes for my portfolio, run the shoppe and bar, and help you with the faire at the same time. If I scaled back the hours at my regular job, would I be able to come here during the week? I’m making more than enough on commission here, and I could work on my portfolio and the faire while customers aren’t here.”

I twist my fingers together behind my back and pretend like I’m considering her proposal. The creatures won’t be happy—having to remain hidden while she’s here, but if her presence brings magic, they have no other choice. “What if your job says no?”

A shrug. “If I win the contest, I’ll be moving and leaving the job anyway. So if they say no, I’ll just quit and work here. If you’ll have me.”

The reality of our situation slams into the forefront of my mind. My place here is permanent, and she’s not. But if she’s here full-time, maybe I’ll be able to figure out how to keep the magic from slipping when she leaves. “If you leave your job, I’ll raise your commission to ten percent.”

She raises a brow. “Make it twenty and I’ll put in my notice on Monday.”

I laugh, dragging the toe of my boot across the floor. “You drive a hard bargain, Lottie.”

“Better hurry before I change my mind.” She rests her temple against the door frame and crosses her arms over her chest, lip quirked.

Right now, I’d agree to anything she said.

Closing the distance between us, I hold out a hand. “We have a deal.”

Her arms remain crossed. “And you can’t argue with my changes around the faire.”

I study her lopsided smile, as if she’s well aware she has me in the palm of her hand.

“I won’t argue,” I say with a nod.

“Then consider me yours.” She clasps my hand.

Our palms press together, skin brushing, and her chest stops moving as her gaze jerks to our hands. I don’t move a muscle, not daring to acknowledge the spark that traveled between our bare skin.

Her gaze flicks to mine. “What was that?”

Magic. “What do you mean?”

Sucking in a cheek, she unravels her hand from mine and pulls away. She hums and turns into the back room, pulling her stained clothes out of her bag.

“Please be careful with these,” she says, handing them over. “I know they’re stained, but they’re still important to me.”

Light brown stains ring the chemise and corset, but a simple purification spell will pull the mead right out. If she knew I was a witch, I could trace the rune onto my hand and it would be clean within seconds. But I can’t.

“They’ll be safe, I promise.” I fold them under my arm and nod toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

“No need,” she says, her voice rising an octave as she slings her bag over her shoulder. “Glen is walking me.”

As if on cue, Glen appears at the front door, his hulking body larger than the frame. He waves and gives me an apologetic smile.

Lottie spins around, walking backwards as she smirks. “See you tomorrow, Scarlet.”

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