“Young master,” Mr. Tom said softly, something that usually roused the miss when she didn’t sense him lurking over her. Not so much as a twitch.
“Young master,” he repeated, a little louder this time. At least this boy approved of being called the proper title. Much less fussy than his mother or grandparents. He could get used to the boy staying in the house. It made Mr. Tom feel all kinds of useful.
Except when he wouldn’t wake up.
“Master Jimmy!” Mr. Tom kicked the bed.
“Hmm?” The young master slowly opened his eyes. “Hah!” He jutted out his hand in some sort of karate chop move he must’ve learned from his mother.
“We need to start training you in combat ASAP,” Mr. Tom said with a sniff. “No one connected to this house should go around cartoon-style karate-chopping at people. It’s embarrassing for all of us. Now.” Mr. Tom straightened up as the young master rubbed his eyes. “There is coffee on the night table for you and breakfast waiting downstairs. Best get moving. You’re off to see the basajaun today. Austin Steele will be going with you just in case the insufferable flea magnet decides it doesn’t like strangers and attacks. You never really know with them. This particular one has been downright tame compared to some others I’ve heard about, but I would still refrain from turning your back on it.”
The creature still hadn’t, after all this time, so much as told them its name. It was very odd. Good to have on one’s side, though.
“Ohhhh-kay.”
Mr. Tom nodded, picked up the dirty clothes strewn around the floor, and headed downstairs. In the kitchen he found the miss, eyes puffy and head drooping, clearly tired from the night before. She’d gone to bed earlier than usual, but the automatic link dampener had stayed in place until very late. When she’d clicked back onto his radar, it had woken him up.
Her refusal to just use one of the gargoyles for sexual stress relief was such a mystery. Clearly she needed it, if she spent all that time at it alone. Janes were very odd about those things.
“Do you need another cup of coffee, miss?” he asked after seeing to the laundry.
“Yes, please.”
The RSVP from the mage lay off to the side. He had accepted their offer to host him, rather than the other way around, and would be coming in a month. Plenty of time to get things ready, assuming that insufferable Paddy next door was researching the mage’s character.
“I woke the young master. He’ll be down shortly.” He filled her mug. “You know, he is taking to this magical idea very quickly. One wonders if he might belong in the house permanently…”
She took a deep breath. “That would be nice, but he’s in college. He needs to be out on his own. Maybe he’ll come back for summer, though.”
Misery lined her face. She only had a couple more days with her son, and the prospect of saying goodbye clearly caused her pain.
She needed a distraction.
“Here.” Mr. Tom dropped the furniture catalog in front of her before taking two eggs out of the fridge. Some things could be cooked beforehand and kept warm, but eggs really needed to be fresh. He set them on the island and monitored Master Jimmy moving around his bedroom.
“What’s this?”
“I was thinking. Of course you don’t feel comfortable looking over the ledger in that office. The furniture in there is very old and out of date. In fact, most of the furniture in this house needs updating. Maybe if you freshened everything up—made it yours instead of just a magical house you moved into—it would make the desire to properly run it less tedious.”
The corners of her mouth turned downward and her eyebrows pinched together. She pressed her palm against the shiny cover featuring a lovely bedroom setup before sliding it out of the way.
“Good thinking. As soon as Jimmy leaves, I’ll…” She paused, her expression that of someone who’d eaten something unsavory. “I’ll go through this and pick some things out.”
“There are many stores to choose from. Just say the word and I’ll sign up for catalogs for others.”
“I can just use the computer,” she said, looking down at her coffee.
“Also, it seems next week Austin Steele will need you to sign some paperwork regarding the winery.”
Her cheeks colored, something that was happening a lot lately in discussions of or with the steadfast alpha. “Sounds good.”
Mr. Tom studied her face while focusing on the link. Her emotions seemed muted, but he could plainly see something was bothering her.
He wondered if that awful woman next door had given the miss a hint on how to control the link. The miss ultimately had the power to do whatever she wanted—turn the “volume” down, mute it, block it entirely, or turn it up full blast until an errant thought about poking someone in the eye would translate into a jolt of pain. There would be no eye damage, of course, unlike with a real finger, but it would still smart.