Page 7

For fuck’s sake, pull yourself together, he scolded himself, surreptitiously wiping his hands against his legs. He had handled a number of bullies in his school days, not to mention cruel teachers. In his adult life, he had dealt with cranky faculty and sobbing students.

Surely he could handle one slipper-wearing witch.

“If it isn’t too much trouble,” Grayson added, when Lucy made no move to help him. She opened her mouth, no doubt ready to give him some sarcastic retort, when something seemed to cross her mind. Her lips closed, turning up into a smile.

“No trouble at all,” she said, voice calm and … polite?

A little thrill shot through him. Perhaps she, too, was being sensible and had arrived at the same conclusion: that it was best they be cordial.

“What would you like?” she asked, leaning forward. He caught a whiff of that sweet vanilla scent again. It reminded him of entering a warm home after being out in the cold. It was so much easier to appreciate how pretty she was when she wasn’t yelling.

“Do you have Irish Breakfast?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, before pausing to think about it. “Actually, we don’t.”

She gave him a smug smile that made him realize her blatant switch from an affirmative to a negative was on purpose. He narrowed his eyes, anger sparking. Now she was being needlessly petty … No, no, he chastised himself, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

Perhaps she really didn’t have the Irish blend.

“I’ll just have the English, then, if it’s not too much bother,” he said, silencing his intrusive thoughts.

“Not a bother at all! Milk? Sugar?”

He was alarmed by her friendly tone; his heartbeat quickened. “Just black, thanks,” he said, voice high. Oh, for fuck’s sake—a shred of kindness from her and he was acting like a schoolboy with a crush!

He cleared his throat, but she didn’t seem to notice. She set about making his tea, humming to herself. The sleeves of her sweater were too long; they almost came down to her knuckles.

Grayson found himself smiling. This wouldn’t be so bad, after all. They would be colleagues. Who knew, they might even be friends! Maybe she could help him mend his relationship with Charles. This would be brilliant.

She slid the teacup and saucer toward him on the counter.

“That will be four fifty,” she said sweetly, flashing him a smile that disarmed him long enough that it took him a second to register what she’d said.

“Four fifty?” he repeated.

Any warmth he felt toward her froze and shattered like an icicle.

So that was the charade.

“Firstly,” he said through gritted teeth, “that is an absurd price for a tea. Secondly, this is my grandfather’s shop; I’m not paying.”

Her face scrunched with anger, and he quickly took the cup of tea before she could stop him, nearly burning his fingertips in the process. Her hand tightened around her coffee mug, this one in the shape of a pumpkin, and she was unhinged enough that he believed she might hurl it at him.

Luckily, just then, someone entered the bookstore. Lucy’s gaze flitted in the direction of the door and back to Grayson.

“Stay out of my way,” she ordered—ah, there was the biting tone—as she went to receive whoever had entered.

When she walked away from him, she morphed entirely. Gone was the irritated expression, gone was the cutting tone, gone was even the tension in her body. She practically skipped to the front of the store.

She brightened as she said, “Anna, hi! Happy to see you today.”

It was astonishing to watch, really. He’d only seen a hint of it when she was making his tea, but this? This was the full show. She was practically radiating like a sunbeam. For a moment, Grayson wondered if she was employing magic to create such an effect, but he knew enough about witchcraft to know that magic couldn’t alter a person’s entire demeanor. It was just her.

Grayson scowled.

Taking his cup of tea, he walked around the store until he found a small door at the back, behind the nonfiction section. The office. Just what he’d been looking for. He slipped in and flicked on the lights, then sighed as he took in the sight before him.

Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose just above his glasses, where he felt a headache blooming behind his eyes. The office was, to put it plainly, a mess.