He nodded. “Good one.” He picked up the candle and looked underneath it. “Is there a magic shop that sells these in town? Because Kaley would love one.”
“No, you…muggle. I did that.”
He winked at her. “Right.”
She pointed at the door. “I think we’re done here.”
“We haven’t talked about how this is going to work.”
“I’m not sure it’s going to.”
“You said deal.”
Fiddlesticks. So she had. She tried to remember this was for Kaley, not Cole. And the commission on the Pilcher Manor. “Fine. I’ll see if I can get Kaley a mentor. Shouldn’t be a big deal. I just have to find someone with the time and inclination, but most witches are happy to do it.”
“Why not you?”
Because of her broken magic, but that wasn’t a discussion she wanted to have with him. “I’m too busy. But I know a lot of witches.”
“I bet you do.”
She scowled at him.
“Sorry, sorry, I’ll work on that.” He stood. “Come to dinner tonight. You have my word it will go better than breakfast. In fact, we can go out. Neutral ground that way. Your choice so long as it doesn’t involve me wearing a tie.”
She took a breath and let that thought marinate. He might be less likely to get into an argument in public. Which would give her a chance to talk to Kaley. “Howler’s. Six forty-five.” That would be enough time to go home, change and feed Pumpkin.
“Howler’s. That’s down at the end of Main, right?”
“Right.” Because a werewolf bar was the perfect place to take a guy who didn’t believe in things that went bump in the night.
“Great. See you then. I have to get back to work.” He started for the door.
“What are you doing on the house today?”
He stopped and turned back to face her. “I’m ordering the new kitchen. Cabinets, counter tops, faucets.”
She canted her head to the side. “Shouldn’t I be helping you with that? Per our new deal?”
He closed his eyes and opened them back up very slowly, like he was trying to keep himself from reacting. “I guess so.”
She grabbed her purse, thankful she didn’t have any showings until this afternoon, and blew out the candle.
He held his hand toward the door. “On to the cabinet shop we go.”
Cole drove a pickup, which wasn’t unexpected, but Pandora had figured it would be dirty inside from whatever construction jobs he’d been working and okay, because he was a guy, littered with food wrappers and random pieces of two-by-fours and those odd flat pencils carpenters used. Instead, it was neat as a pin and smelled like the beach.
She tapped the palm tree air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror. “Kaley?”
“Yes.”
Pandora put her purse on the floor and strapped her seat belt on.
Cole gave her a funny look, then put on his own.
“What was that look for?”
His brows lifted as he shifted into drive and pulled the vehicle onto the road. “You’re pretty trusting to get in a truck with a stranger.”
She gave him a funny look right back. “Are you saying I shouldn’t be? What are you trying to tell me?”
His eyes lit with amusement. “Nothing. Just making an observation.”
“You’re not exactly a stranger. I know where you live. I know your first and last name and your daughter’s.” And she’d zap him with magic if he tried anything. Not that it would necessarily work, but hope sprang eternal.
“I guess.”
She smiled. “Plus, it would be a pretty high coincidence that we’re both serial killers.”
He laughed, his black eyes flashing. “For a potentially crazy woman, you’re pretty funny.”
“Thanks, I think.” She sat back, wondering if he had any idea how handsome he was when he smiled. It was a bit disarming, because he didn’t seem like he had a clue.
He didn’t smell bad, either.
Oh boy. Was she getting a little infatuated? She’d always had a thing for stubborn boys who didn’t believe. A sadness welled up inside her. It was like high school all over again.
She shoved that thought out of her head. Now was neither the time nor the place to rehash that horrible memory. “So, Melworth’s Kitchens and More?”
“What? No. I was going to the DIY Depot.”
She scrunched up her nose. “A big-box store?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Because they’re not local, they don’t do custom cabinets and—”
“Custom? Whoa, what kind of money do you think I’m putting into this place?”
She raised her brows and gave him her best disdainful glare. “The kind it deserves. Pilcher Manor isn’t a starter home. You can’t just throw any old fixtures in it and call it done.”
He kept his eyes on the road as he drove. “Custom cabinets are expensive.”
“And how much did the house cost you?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Do you understand what it could potentially sell for?”
He sighed. “Not really, no. But I’m guessing you can tell me.”
“If you do it right—”
“You mean your way.”
“Sure, let’s go with that. If you do it right, it could be worth one-point-two, maybe one-point-three. I mean, I haven’t pulled comps, but—”