Page 37 of Love's a Witch
As provost of Briarhaven, it was my job to meet any new familiars and assess if they were safe for the town. While emberwolves had once been a threat to us, their domestication through the years had left them as nothing more than beloved companions. Picking up a large circular ring with a large ball inside, I held it up. “Haggis will love this.”
“Aye, he will at that. Great to toss about but rolls a treat too.” Sorcha held up a box with several holes in it and shook it.
“What’s that?”
“A box with crackly paper inside. Oswald will love it.”
“I can’t believe I’m paying to buy a box,” I grumbled, and Sorcha chuckled. “Cats are nothing if not contradictory. Buy them a nice toy, and they’ll sit in the bag it came in.”
“That’s the truth of it.” I idled by the baskets. “Say, Sorcha… do you have any toys for an emberwolf?”
“An emberwolf, is it? Have you added to your pack?” Sorcha crossed the room and studied the baskets.
“Not mine, no.”
“Ah.” Sorcha’s warm brown eyes lit with consideration, and I did my best to head off any potential town gossip.
“The MacGregor sisters have a new addition to the family. I need to meet him and make sure he’s safe for Briarhaven. Might be best to go in with a gift.” There. My interest in the emberwolf was easily explained as part of my duty, and not because I wanted Sloane to look at me with appreciation. Nope, it wasn’t that at all.
“Is that the way of it, then?” Sorcha continued to look at me with that light in her eyes, and I internally groaned.
“Aye, that’s the way of it.” I picked up a squeaky dragon toy. “What do you think of this one?”
“I think a puzzle toy would be better.” Sorcha led me to another table that held a variety of structures, from a simple tray with sliding doors, to fully built castles with doors and windows that opened. “This one is particularly enchanted for emberwolves. Look… see this?”
Sorcha pointed to the doors of the castle. They looked to be of a sparkly, malleable material, and were a bright red.
“Flameproof. But if he does torch them, they’ll open to reveal the treats hidden inside.”
“That’s incredible.” And likely not cheap. I discreetly checked the price tag.
Sorcha caught me and gave me a knowing look.
“Aye, the price is quite dear. A present like this would certainly be considered a very nice gift for a close… friend.”
Oh, great.Now I was stuck in the position of having inquired about a gift for Sloane’s new addition, and if I didn’t buy it, then I was going to seem rude, and if I did, then the whole town would think my interest was something more than just friends.
“You know, I remember Sloane’s parents,” Sorcha said idly as she turned and opened a new delivery of what looked to be chew toys in the shape of dragons’ claws. “A one-night stand that should have never turned into a relationship. They fed off each other. Their individual magick was like a drug to the other, until they burned themselves out. Can’t imagine there were too many nice gifts for the girls, though I know Broca did her best.”
Sorcha was giving me an out. My heart twisted at the image of a sullen Sloane, tenderhearted and angry, slouching in an alleyway. Gifts had come fast and easy in my household, even if warmth and affection were limited.
“In that case, I’ll take the castle.”
“Och, and that’s a grand choice. And let me know how Haggis gets on with his new ball. He should be able to toss it quite high in the air if he gives it laldy.”
“Aye, I will.” Sorcha rang my purchases up quickly, and before I could get stuck responding to another snow emergency, I headed toward the MacGregors’ house to drop off the gift for their new emberwolf.
Raven’s words had competed with thoughts of undressing Sloane throughout the night.
If Broca’s vision was accurate, I needed to shift focus and figure out a solution to this endless winter. Not lust after the sexy witch. I paused outside the shop, gifts in hand, and watched as a worker hung up Christmas lights outside the Dragon’s Hoard. We hadn’t even gotten through Halloween yet. But I supposed it went with the theme of snow.
A memory surfaced of Sloane, standing tight-lipped as her mother picked up one item after another in the shop. I’d been shopping withmy own mum, who had a veritable mountain of presents stacked on the checkout counter, while Sloane had hovered behind her mum, not touching anything.
A pretty woman with a riot of curls and sharp-looking eyes, her mother had checked the price on every item in the store before cursing softly beneath her breath.
“You’d think you’d price things a bit more fairly, Dorothy.”
Sloane had winced, her eyes flying to mine, her cheeks pinkening.
