Page 98 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
She’d shaken her head and muttered, “Utterly ridiculous.” But her heart had still raced. And she’d found Joel waiting by the Charis door, holding a paper bag in one hand and a steaming coffee in the other.
Now, sipping from that same cup, Nia pulled a black notebook from her drawer. She flipped through the pages and scanned the latest names. Anything to distract from the fact that a text and a breakfast bag had her swooning like a teenager. Pathetic.
Hayden Sutherland — $100k Dover Community Foundation (housing) RECEIVED
Blake Rumi — $25k Charis RECEIVED
Jackson Runner — $85k Feeding Children, SR Pantry, SR Animal Shelter RECEIVED
Gregor McGruff — $45k Dover Repro-Health
Every recent mark was confirmed and received. Except Gregor. His payment had been due over a week ago.
She added a follow-up to her calendar for tomorrow. If he didn’t respond, she’d leak the photos: proof of him setting fires, using his magic to commit arson for insurance payouts. It wouldn’t just smear his name. It would drag down his husband, too, along with the tidy little empire they’d built in Fern. All those cozy, family-run establishments with their curated shopfronts whose business relied on wholesome reviews and glowing press.
Before she could finish writing “leak photos,” Jade chuffed.
Nia looked up to see Mira standing in the doorway, two coffees in hand.
Nia grinned. “You’re my favorite person.”
“You say that to anyone with caffeine.”
Nia stood, kissed her cheek, and took the coffee. “Still true. Who drove you?”
Mira tipped her chin toward the window, where Wren, her bodyguard, stood with his arms crossed and expression unreadable. Beside him was Glenda, a seventy-year-old wolven with no sense of personal space, openly admiring his biceps and tracing the tattoos curling down his forearm.
Nia laughed and dropped back into her chair as Mira took the one across from her.
“Thanks for meeting me here. I’ve been a bit busy…” Nia trailed off, fidgeting with the ring on her finger.
Mira’s hazel eyes shifted to Jade, stretched out like royalty on her chair by the window. “And you have a new child.”
“She’s not mine,” Nia said quickly. “She’s?—”
“Your husband’s.”
Nia flushed. Mira blinked slowly, then smirked.
“You didn’t come to hear about that,” Nia said, clearing her throat and straightening a stack of papers.
“No,” Mira said. “But I’d like to.”
Nia pretended not to hear. “You said you had someone for me?”
“Mr. Bell hasn’t been very kind. To his wife, or the environment.” Mira handed her an envelope.
Nia opened it. Inside were club photos, a hotel receipt, and a zoning notice clipped from a Dunlowe paper.
“He was at Ember last week,” Mira said. “Got drunk, got handsy, and got loud. I caught enough to piece together his little project—an industrial build north of here. If it goes through, runoff cuts straight through unprotected forest and hits the ocean.”
Nia flipped to the next photo: Bell with someone who was very much not his wife.
“He’s been to Salt a few times, too,” Mira added. “Word is he’ll be back there tomorrow night.”
“Reg or sup?”
“Reg.”
