While Danica wasn’t prepared for a chat and didn’t have much time either, she was glad to see her grandmother. She leaned in for a hug, closing her eyes at the familiar smell of lavender and mint. “You have a key. Why didn’t you let yourself in?”
“That would be rude, sweetheart. When you two bought the place, it ceased being mine and became yours. Love what you’ve done with the flower beds.”
“That’s all Kerry and Priya,” she admitted. “I don’t have much time. I need to shower and grab lunch, then I have—”
“Yes, yes. You’re busy.” Gram took her hands to soften the interruption. “And I’m on my way to lunch as well. Meeting some old friends. But I wanted to touch base. I saw some photos online…” The pause indicated that she didn’t quite know how to put this. “Again, I’m so sorry. I’ve said this before, but I genuinely thought Darryl was a fine young man—that he’d make you happy. I had no idea things would end up like this.”
“It’s fine.” It really wasn’t.
In all honesty, she had only been dating Darryl because he fit the profile. He came from a pure witch family, and Gram approved. It had been two blissful years of Gram asking how her “young man” was and otherwise staying out of Danica’s business. A few weeks after Danica and Darryl broke up, Darryl and Raquel happened, which started Gram on a campaign to get Danica to set up a profile on Bindr to find a “proper” mate. She rued the day she’d taught Gram how to use a smartphone.
“With all the filters on Bindr, I’ve found better candidates this time,” Gram promised. She stood and gave Danica a warm hug, patting her back. “I’m relieved to see that you look well, if a trifle harried. I’ll let you go about your business. The ladies are expecting me for food and gossip, and then I’m helping Gladys with the Lughnasadh.”
“We’ll visit soon,” Danica promised.
Gram headed out with a flutter of her fingers, and within moments, a rideshare appeared at the curb.
Whew. Gram meant well, but Danica was in no mood to talk about dating with her.
Danica left her bike out front and let herself in with a flick of her wrist. This was her home ground, and the place was warded against intruders, acclimated to Waterhouse magic for three generations. Mostly she didn’t need to worry about spell malfunctions here.
She and Clem had updated the decor, and the place was clean and modern now. They’d bickered about the cream walls; Danica had gotten her way about that, but Clem had won the argument about painting the woodwork, so it was still dark and natural, and Danica had grown to appreciate the contrast.
She took her shoes off just inside the front door to protect the floors and jogged upstairs to wash off the pineapple residue. I’ve smelled like a damn piña colada all day. Danica made it quick and dressed in a better outfit than the one Titus had already seen. This time, she chose her clothes with care in well-fitted shorts and a red-gauze top; then she hurried downstairs to make a sandwich. The fact that he was a mundane didn’t eliminate her appreciation of his hotness and his awkward humor; flirting was chicken soup for the witch’s soul. Or whatever. At any rate, her ego could use the boost.
At least the hangover is gone.
Checking the time, Danica dashed out the door and found a lanky ginger cat lounging on her front porch. First Gram, now this. “Go home, Goliath.”
The cat flashed her a supercilious look, then sashayed pointedly away and hopped up on the swing as if to say, You can’t make me. This jerk practically lived at their house; she even had his owner in her contacts. With a sigh, she made the call.
“Hello?” Hazel Jeffords answered on the first ring.
“Goliath is on my porch again, if you were looking for him.”
“If you’d stop feeding him—”
“We don’t,” Danica said with faint exasperation, as the old woman who lived four houses down seemed convinced they were plotting to lure away her feline companion. “We have never once fed this cat.”
“Well, I didn’t even know he’d gotten out. Can you wait for me to come after him?”
Sighing, she counted to ten. “Yes, I’ll wait.”
The cat stared at her accusingly once she disconnected the call, green eyes wounded.
“What?” Danica demanded. Lowering her voice, she added, “You’re not my familiar. I don’t need one, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be a cat.”
Goliath seemed to shrug and started grooming himself, the cat equivalent of Suit yourself. It was more like twenty minutes before Hazel showed up, and she barely said two words to Danica while baby-talking the hell out of Goliath, who stared longingly over Hazel’s shoulder as she carried him off.
Awesome, now I’m late. People will be cranky if I’m not back by two, like the sign says.
Quickly Danica got on her bike and headed for Sugar Daddy’s. It was a gorgeous day, great weather for late July, and the heat wasn’t sweltering. Sometimes the humidity made it worse, but not today. The bakery was dead cute, a bright spot amid earth tones, and inside, there was a queue of people waiting to clean out the pastry case. A young woman flashed her a cheerful smile as the bell rang, signaling her entry.
“Have a look and I’ll be with you presently,” she said.
“I’m here to check your oven, actually.” Danica didn’t rule out buying baked goods afterward, if the line thinned while she was working.
“Oh!” For some reason, the clerk studied her closely before breaking into an overly wide smile. “Go on back. Titus has been waiting for you.”
I’m missing something here.
She wondered if she’d get to see him all geared up in his baker’s outfit, kneading dough with strong hands, flexing forearms—okay, enough of that—but nah. It seemed like the baking happened much earlier, maybe before the shop opened. Sugar Daddy’s only stayed open until everything was sold, and some days, that was amazingly early. People queued for the cinnamon rolls before the doors were even unlocked.
He was perched on a stool, reading, and the whole kitchen sparkled. She’d never seen so much gleaming stainless steel; no health code violations here. Which was a weird thing to find sexy. But the smell—even without anything delicious in the industrial ovens, the space still held hints of sweetness: cinnamon and sugar, butter and vanilla.
“What’re you reading?” she asked.
Startled, he juggled the book and then dropped it, so it landed with the pink cover up, showing a cute cartoon-style drawing of a man and woman locked together in an embrace. She read the title with awe.
Okay, this is a setup. If it’s not, then he’s the perfect man.