Page 15 of All My Witches
Landon sighed to silence them. “So the thing isn’t drugs or prostitution. I’m guessing it’s stolen goods then. Do I need to pick up a shipment orsomething?”
“Stolen goods?” Michael made a tsking sound, disappointment positively rolling off of him. “I would never deal in stolen goods. I believe in being honorable. You don’t steal things if you’re honorable. Besides, I had a brother who was killed during a home invasion robbery. I honor his legacy by not dealing in stolengoods.”
“It sounds dangerous to be one of your siblings,” Thistlenoted.
“It is dangerous to be in this world,” Michaelcorrected.
“So if we’re not dealing with stolen goods or drugs, how about garbage contracts?” Landonsuggested.
“Garbage contracts?” Sam wrinkled his nose. “What does that have to do withanything?”
“Everyone knows that garbage companies are full of mobsters,” Thistlesupplied.
“That’s true.” Clove was somber. “We saw it on television the other night. A lot of politicians are losing their jobs down south because they were bribed by garbagecontractors.”
“Oh, well, that’s just … a smelly thought,” Samcomplained.
“It’s not garbage contracts.” Michael’s agitation was beginning to show. “You know what the thing is. I’m not telling you in front of a group of people … especially mylawyer.”
“Of course not.” Landon clenched his fists. “Okay. Fine. I’ll get thething.”
“Great.” Michael’s smile was back in place. “While you’re doing that … .” He reached out his fingers and touched the hem of my shirt. “I missed you last night, my darling. I have some time free this morning if you would like to get … reacquainted.” Michael offered a saucy wink that turned my stomach. He was handsome, in a disarming way, and the dimple was utterly adorable. He made me queasy, though. Plus, well, he was extremely touchy-feely.
“Oh, well, I have an appointment,” I lied, searching my mind for something to offer that he wouldbuy.
“A photoshoot?”
I was understandably confused. “Photoshoot?”
“You’re a model,” Thistle reminded me. “I’m guessing that’s what you do, just sit around and pose forphotos.”
That didn’t sound terrible. “Right. Um, yeah. I have a photoshoot.”
“Why do you get to be a model?” Clove complained. “I always thought I should be the one to be amodel.”
“You’re not even five feet tall,” Thistle shot back. “You can’t be a model. You’re a miniature horse instead of a giraffe. That’s not how itworks.”
Clove balked. “I could be a great model. I could do itprofessionally.”
“You’re a stripper,” Michael offered. “That’s close to amodel.”
“Don’t bring that up,” Clove warned. “I’m offended that Aunt Tillie would even include that tidbit in her horriblegame.”
I didn’t blame Clove. She really had gotten an “out there” story. In the grand scheme of things, I’d gotten offlight.
“I’m going to my photo shoot,” I said. “I’ll be back …later.”
“That’s fine.” Michael had seemingly moved on from his determination to spend quiet (or maybe not so quiet) married time with me. “I have very important meetings at thewarehouse.”
“That’s good.” Landon forced a smile for Michael’s benefit. “You should definitely go to the warehouse. Just out of curiosity, what do you house in the warehouse if you don’t run drugs or stolengoods?”
“Youknow.”
“No, Idon’t.”
“Yes, youdo.”
“No, Idon’t.”
