“There are lots of companies on that list. What makes you think it’s Waterhouse?” Emma’s boss pointed at the screen.
Flint didn’t answer. He didn’t want to think about the implications. He didn’t know what type of magic he had. But he’d always trusted his gut, and something said Waterhouse Social was up to no good. “Let’s let Oak have his team look at it.”
“That wouldn’t hurt.” Emma smiled up at him.
Flint texted the details to Oak. He got back a quick thumbs up.
“Oh my gosh! With all the excitement, I forgot to tell you.” Emma leaned forward. Flint’s heart sped up. “I had such a great session this morning, better than ever before. I’ve entered so much into the database. The programmers are going to have some real data to use.”
“Wow, Emma, that’s great. I knew you could do it.” Mia was back with more coffee for Carter. She motioned to Flint with the cup—he’d already turned her down once, and he waved her off again. “Isn’t that great?” Mia egged on Shiori and Carter.
“Yes, yes,” they both chimed in.
“You’re not too tired now, are you?” Shiori leaned in to Emma.
“Uh, no. I’m not tired. Just hungry.”
“Great, I was looking for my raincheck at Riverside Cafe. Get your coat.” Was he bossing her around now? Yes, but mostly because he wanted out of the room with the two uptight stiffs.
“It’s only three. I should stay.” Emma gripped the arms of the chair.
“Flint’s right, Emma. It’s your first day back. You should take off. Have a pleasant lunch, or early dinner.” Carter didn’t look up from his computer when he spoke to Emma. And even though Carter was telling Emma to do exactly what Flint wanted her to do, he wanted her to do the opposite now. “Mia, can you call Riverside Cafe and have Emma and Flint’s meal put on the company card?”
Flint stared at him. Really? He didn’t need someone paying for him and his girlfriend–Fuck–to have lunch. Well, maybe he needed a porterhouse steak and whatever the hell else was expensive.
“Sure thing.” Mia took her phone and headed out into the hallway.
“Hey,” the speaker creaked. “Maybe you should go home, alone, and get some rest, Emma,” Daphne suggested.
Everyone stared at the speaker. Everyone but Flint had forgotten Daphne was there. “I’m more hungry than tired, Daphne, but I promise I’ll get more sleep.” Emma’s smile had faded. Some friend—power of three or not, Emma needed to set some boundaries with Daphne.
“I’ve told Oak he should keep you up to speed too, Flint. Enjoy your meal.” Carter had dismissed them, but Flint didn’t care. He wanted Emma out of there.
They walked down the hall to Mr. Thompson’s classroom with the orange dot on the floor. The old man would get a kick out of it if he could see it now. He taught at the new school, up on the hill. Flint saw him regularly for school fire drills.
Flint helped Emma into her thin sweater.
“Why, Mr. Larsen, I didn’t realize you were such a gentleman.”
“There’s nothing gentle or man about me. I’m all wolf.” And that was it. He didn’t want to be a mutt—part wolf, part witch. He didn’t want fonts on computers dancing at him like a message from the ether. But he did want some of the fresh bread down at Riverside Cafe. The bullhead that he was wanted to go somewhere, anywhere but Riverside Café, since Carter had forced it on them. Hell, they could skip it and have Wolf Den pizza instead. But no one picked that as a first choice. And his wolf wanted the homemade bread. The thing was a sucker for carbs.
“You can be both.” She smiled and squeezed his arm.
“No, I’m a wolf.” Not a human witch, and he’d never asked to be a mutt.
27
Emma stood beside her car and Flint beside his truck. “I can drive.” She shrugged and pulled her little cardigan closer around her neck. The groundhog hadn’t seen his shadow, but the wind had some teeth left in it. Unfortunately, she hadn’t thought through her clothing choice this morning. She glanced at Flint. Daphne was way better at picking up on people’s social cues than Emma. But even she could see the churning conflict in his eyes this morning. He liked her, and he didn’t like that he liked her. “Really, I can drive.”
Flint’s eyes flashed at her. The memory of Saturday night was still fresh for both of them—the layers of mud, her knees on the shower floor scrubbing the mud off of his muscular calves . . .
He headed around the side of his truck. “You sure?” Flint laid his hand on his truck, the implications clear. It wasn’t her driving—it was her tiny car.
“You can drive.” She grabbed her bag from where she’d tossed it into her backseat.
“Let me help you up.” He scowled at her, or the building behind them, or something.
“I’ve got it.” She grabbed the pull bar on the side and yanked, pulling herself into the truck. Emma nodded at him, and he closed the truck’s door with a solid thud. With a deep sigh, she put on her seat belt and folded her hands. He turned and glared at her. His magic was sharp and jagged around him. It reached for her on its own and then pushed away. What in the sassafras had gotten into him?
He jumped into the truck and sped away from the building. Main Street wasn’t too busy. Monday at three, people were still at work, and the high school kids hadn’t made their way down the hill from the school yet.
Flint pulled in front of the Pick-n-Pay. His hand stretched out to the headrest behind her; he parallel-parked like a pro. He came around the truck to help her down just as her feet hit the pavement.
“I would have helped you.” His thumbs hooked into the back pockets of his jeans. His blue flannel button-up shirt hung open over the black Hundsburg Fire Department T-shirt stretched across his chest. His leather jacket was layered on top of that.
“It’s fine.”
Flint offered his hand to help her over a small embankment of snow between the sidewalk and the road. The gray sludge would vanish within days. She took it but dropped it as soon as she stepped onto the dry sidewalk.
“Are you okay?” Flint asked.
Emma nodded, not looking at him. Because she wasn’t okay. The bubble they’d formed over the weekend had vanished. She sucked in her breath.
“You’re not okay.” Flint touched her elbow.
“I . . . I’m just cold. All right?”
“Want my jacket?” Flint started to slip it off. They’d passed the door to the flower shop and were next to the alcove entrance for the apartments above the floral shop.
