Page 73 of Strike It Witch

I knelt in front of the lavender plant. “All right. I’m going to give you back the tablet. You can visit all your favorite gardening sites, but you have to get permission to go anywhere else, and that includes the dark web. If you abuse it, I’m taking it back.”

Cecil’s purple hat poked out of the dirt. I set the tablet next to it, tucked under the lavender flowers so as not to crush them. I backed away, waiting until the tablet disappeared beneath the plant before exiting the garden room with Ronan.

"Does helivein there?"

"No," I said. "He hangs out near the roots. Lavender soothes him the same way it does the rest of us."

“He should probably spend more time there,” Ronan said.

“It’s lavender, not Clozapine,” I said. “It can only do so much.”

“True.” He walked beside me, matching his pace to mine. “Thanks for the bud you left me. It helped."

“You're welcome. Thank you for helping me with the tablet.” I stepped around Red’s grave, accidentally bumping into Ronan. He put his hand on my back to steady me and I forced myself not to lean into the warmth of his touch.

“How do you know about parental controls?” I asked. “Do you have kids?”

“Not yet.”

“Yet? You want kids?”

“Someday, if things work out, it would be nice.” He tucked his hands in his jeans pockets. “I used to be solidly against the idea, but being around my little sister changed my mind. She’s pretty amazing.”

“No guarantee your child would turn out like her, though.”

“There are no guarantees for anything in life.” He watched me dust my feet off before climbing up the front step and toed off his sneakers. “Do you want kids someday?”

I thought about it. “Not a houseful or anything, but maybe one. A daughter.”

“No guarantee you’d have a girl.”

“All Lennox witches have girls. It’s how our magic is passed down. We do give birth to males, too. After the female line’s been secured. One of those paranormal biological imperatives.”

“No male children have ever inherited the Lennox magic?”

“Not a one.” I gestured for him to sit at the table. I’d left the radio on while I was out, and it was playing “Get Closer” by Seals and Crofts when we opened the door. “That’s not to say our boysdon’t have magic. Only that they don’t have the power of the firstborn female.”

“Interesting,” he said, in a way that made me worry I’d shared too much. It was far too easy to relax around this man.

At least emotionally. My body was anything but relaxed around him.

“Would you like some iced tea?” I asked politely, suddenly feeling awkward. After all, our last conversation had not been comfortable.

“Sure.” He grinned, fatigue pulling at his eyes.

“You look exhausted.”

“I could use a nap,” he admitted. “I spent my evening at a pack security meeting then worked a full shift at the pub. Gladys was under the weather, so I worked the morning shift, too. No idea why mornings are getting more popular at my place, but I’m not ungrateful. I can use the business.”

“It’s Gladys. She has a following.”

“That’s why the crowd is predominately senior men ordering coffee. I wondered.”

“Even after we get Gladys sorted, you might want to pay her just to come in and socialize. Maybe set up a senior kaffeeklatsch or something.” I handed him a glass of tea. “Have you eaten? I don’t have much, but I make a mean PB&J.”

One side of his mouth tugged up. “I love PB&Js.”

“You are obviously a man of exquisite taste.” I reached for the bread from the cabinet above the sink.

---