Shortbread and Shadows - Amy Lane Page 0,41

that with someone who’s not perfect for you. I’ve never had sex like that. It puts to shame all the other times I thought I’ve been in love.”

Bartholomew sucked in a breath, and Lachlan shook his head.

“No. No panicking. No worrying. I said a scary word. So did you. It’s like your potions. It’s going to sit there, in our hearts, and steep for a minute. Infuse us. Let us get used to the idea. You and me will be the same when it’s done. It will be part of our blood.”

“Okay,” Bartholomew said, sounding as dreamy and out of it as Lachlan. Well, he’d been working magic for an hour. Everything Lachlan had ever read about the process said he was going to need to rest and eat. “Okay. We’ll let it steep. That’s—”

He was interrupted by a buzzing coming from his pants on the floor. He rolled over and pulled out his phone, mumbling, “Damn—Lachlan, I’ve got to wash my underwear!” before he answered. “Jordan?” He hit Speaker.

“Hey, just wanted you to know we’re not anywhere near finishing up here. You’re going to have to spend all night baking, Barty. Your stock is almost all depleted, and so is ours, and Lachlan is down by about half.”

Bartholomew blinked slowly, and Lachlan did the same shift in his brain. Oh yeah. Business. They were both small businessmen, right? This was important?

“No more cray-cray?” he asked, sounding worried, and Jordan’s negative noise on the other end reassured them both.

“Nope. I think that we finished the spell right as that group you saw got to the parking garage. A whole whack of people got busted for using the freight elevator. They had to do some fast-talking to get back on the floor.”

“But they weren’t looking for me when they came back?” Bartholomew asked, and Lachlan hid a smile. Oh, the horror! That strangers should think Bartholomew was beautiful or clever or desirable.

Lachlan could have told him that they really didn’t need enchanted baked goods to think that, but he didn’t want to stir up any more angst.

“No,” Jordan said, and Lachlan leaned over Bartholomew’s back, the better to lick his neck with little desultory swipes of the tongue. “But they did seem to be happy, if that helps. It was like they forgot about chasing you but remembered to be excited about being there. It was actually a really good day. How about you?”

“I made amulets of protection,” Bartholomew said, and his voice dropped to a mumble. “And friendship. Is Alex still there?”

“No. Once shit started to clear out, he took a rideshare home. One of the neighbors behind us—Mrs. Zabka? You remember her?”

“Yeah,” Bartholomew said, and Lachlan felt his shoulders hunch. “She’s sort of, you know, mean.”

“Yeah, I know. Well, she apparently has Alex’s number from the last time we had an, uh, incident, you know, with the cat box?”

“Poor Alex.” Bartholomew looked over his shoulder, grimacing and nodding, and Lachlan wondered who he would have to yell at to not make Bartholomew make that face.

“Yeah, well, she called because Glinda was barking. Alex got home and said he couldn’t find Dante or Cully anywhere. He had to let the dog out to crap, and let himself into their place to get her food and leash.”

“Where’d they go?” Bartholomew asked, sending Lachlan a puzzled look. “Were their cars still there?”

“Yeah,” Jordan said, sounding just as puzzled. “Their cars were there, but… well, Alex spent about an hour in their house, and he’s sort of unnerved. You’ve got to let him tell you about it. I think your enchanted baked goods may be only the beginning of this thing, you know?”

Bartholomew let out a little mewl. “Oh no. When should we come over?”

“We won’t even get out of here until six, but if you wanted to replenish your stock, you should start whenever you can get back.”

Bartholomew groaned, and Lachlan could tell he was tempted to bail. It wasn’t unheard of for vendors who sold out of stock to simply leave. Once you’d earned back your overhead and supplies, everything else was pure profit. But Bartholomew had goals, and Lachlan understood that. He took one or two days out of the woodshop a week, but that was it. Working for yourself meant your boss had to be a top-notch hardass, and Lachlan had a feeling Bartholomew would be the worst of a bad lot.

“We’ll leave in an hour and a half,” Lachlan said, yawning. “That’ll give us a little down time,