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“Oh, I’ve got it,” Charles said, waving his hand. He seated himself in the wheelchair and Grayson crouched down to help lift Charles’s feet onto the footrests. He stood up, reaching for the wheelchair handles.
“It’s all right, I have magic,” Charles said. “I can do it.”
“Can you let me?” Grayson snapped, mood dark.
Charles blinked, taken aback. “Okay.”
Grayson felt awful for letting his temper get the best of him, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Clenching his jaw, he pushed Charles into the store.
The moment they entered, Lucy hopped over, beaming as she met them at the door. “You’re back!” she cried. She waved her hands and little sparkles danced in the air like mini fireworks—another magic trick. Charles grinned. Grayson scowled.
“Ta-da!” She gave Charles a hug, kissing his wrinkled cheek. She frowned at the sight of the wheelchair but quickly brightened, lifting her chin. “Come in, come in, it’s so chilly out!”
Pushing Grayson aside, she took the wheelchair handles from his hands. Grayson made a sound of protest, which she completely ignored as she wheeled Charles to one of the tables, using magic to push aside the chairs and make room for him, the two of them chatting away.
Charles didn’t protest at all, fully allowing Lucy to fuss over him. Grayson’s stomach twisted.
“Let me make you a cup of tea,” Lucy said. “And bring you a molasses cake! We have the daybed set up for you, so when you get tired, you can lie down there, but I’m sure you want to sit for a bit.”
“Yes, darling, thank you,” Charles said, smiling wide. “I’m getting tired of lying down all the time! I feel like going for a run.”
Lucy laughed, heading over to the kettle. “And when did you go for runs before you broke your hip, hmm?”
“Well, I didn’t, but I could have! I was going to train for the Turkey Trot.”
“You say that every year and you never do!”
Awkwardly shuffling his feet, Grayson listened as she and Charles chatted. He ambled over to where Lucy was finishing up Charles’s tea and balked when he saw her heaping in a teaspoon full of sugar.
His hand shot out to grip her wrist, stopping her. Her pulse beat against his palm, and the point of contact sent a shiver through him.
“Are you trying to kill him?” he asked.
She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you? He hates tea without sugar.”
“He’s old. Should he really be having so much?”
“I know him better than you.”
“I know,” Grayson said. “But—” She ignored him, knocking his hand away and stirring the sugar in. “Lucinda,” he hissed.
“What?” she snapped, glaring up at him.
“Children,” Charles called from his table, tone warning. Fuck. “Do behave.” He gave Grayson a stern glance, and Grayson’s chest tightened.
Charles would never see any error in Lucy; he loved her so. It would always be Grayson who was the bad guy, Grayson who was at fault.
Lucy seriously had to go.
CHAPTER NINE
Lucy
Feeling superior, Lucy lifted her chin—until Charles turned his scolding in her direction as well. Chagrined, she turned her face down like a wilted flower.
She brought Charles over a molasses cake and his tea, setting a mug shaped like a fox’s face down on the table in front of him. She hoped the sugar would help him get his energy back and lift his spirits. A burgundy candle glowed next to the mug, filling the air with the spiced scent of cloves and cinnamon.
Sitting down, Lucy checked over Charles’s shoulder to ensure there were no customers she was missing, but thankfully, the store was quiet, so she could spend a bit of time with him. She put a spell on the front door just in case; it would send a little jolt her way if anyone entered.
