Page 91 of His Temporary Assistant

“Balls.”

I stared at the cards on my kitchen table next to my super-sized mug of Morning Mojo tea. Sleep had been elusive. I was still wound up from seeing a new side of Preston yesterday. The guy behind the suit who had an affinity for animals in need. Who also had a sense of loneliness in his eyes that made me ache.

I didn’t have time for that nonsense.

But that didn’t seem to matter to my hormones or sleeping habits. My bed was all tangled sheets, and two of my pillows had ended up on the floor by the time I’d finally given up on pretending to sleep. And now I had all that King of Swords energy waiting for me today.

It could be for me, since I was locking shit down. But I’d bet that freaking card was for Preston.

“Two more days. You can do this.” I tapped the Three of Cups. Maybe I’d get together with the girls this weekend and decompress. Some wine and Luna would do me some good.

The Death card was my real worry. Majors weren’t just little pats on the ass. They were a slap to the back of the head and usually meant something major—duh, Major Arcana—but I was tired of all these major life hits. I had two days left and then I could get back to my life.

I glanced at the drawing on my desk, with the little cat face peering in the window.

The one I hadn’t touched in two days.

The one I’d been avoiding. I’d only drawn it eleven times now.

I swooped up the cards and set them on my altar. I tucked the death card behind my skull. “Keep me from doing anything super dumb today, huh, George?”

I finished packing my bag. The temperatures were supposed to soar today, and I’d dressed in an unusually short dress. Nothing indecent, but the air laid heavy on me and I’d been tempted to take another shower before leaving for work.

“Enough waffling, Moon.” I reached for one of my lighter crystals off the jewelry tree in the window. I chose rose quartz and citrine to settle my crazy mind and a few obsidian and silver rings for protection.

Protection from what, I so wasn’t going to say out loud.

Even to myself.

I had enough time to stop into The Honey Pot and got a sugar-charged six-pack of donuts. My phone chimed that a delivery was waiting for me at work.

My lips twitched. Preston’s coffee had finally come in.

“Need anything else, Ryan?”

I glanced up at Dre, the owner of the shop. Behind her was an obnoxious mug with a closeup of a llama with no drama scrawled on the inside lip. “I’ll take that too.”

Dre turned. “The llama?”

“Yes, definitely.”

She rang it up and quickly wrapped it in newsprint, then tucked it into a white handled bag. I handed her my card and smiled.

“That smile seems a little sinister.”

“Maybe.”

Dre shook her head. “Preston is a good guy, you know.”

I gripped my wallet more tightly. “How do you know it’s for him?”

“You’ve glanced over at his building three times.”

“I have?” I frowned and looked again.

“See?”

“I’m just seeing if I beat him to work for once. I wanted to do it at least once. Since I’m usually late.”

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