Don't Hex with Texas (Enchanted, Inc. 4)

“You were thinking it.”

“But I know better than to say anything. Where should I put this?” He hefted the case. “I wouldn’t want it to clash with your decor.”

“Very funny.” I lifted the pink ruffled and flounced bedskirt. “Here, slide it under the bed, up by the head. Even if someone gets crazy enough to vacuum under the bed, it should be hidden somewhat there because of the nightstand.”

He knelt and placed the case as I directed, then stood up and looked around the room. “I never really saw you as the pink type.”

“That phase only lasted a couple of years. Two years later, it was purple, but Mom wouldn’t let me redecorate. In high school, I wanted to go all modern with red, black, and white. Now I think I’d do it in pale blue and white.”

He raised an eyebrow, but refrained from further comment. “Are you ready to go?”

“Can you give me five minutes to change clothes? I’m kind of a mess from work.” Once I had the door shut with him safely on the other side, I frantically pulled off my clothes, then put on a nicer pair of jeans and a clean shirt. I tugged the ponytail holder out of my hair and ran a brush through it. I limited makeup to a little lip gloss because I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard.

Feeling much better about myself, I found him in Teddy and Dean’s room. I gave him a quick tour of the house, avoiding the kitchen where Mom and Granny lurked. In the backyard, the dogs ran to greet us, going straight to Owen. I was a bit insulted at the snub by my own dogs. The dogs escorted us to the edge of the yard where we could see the fields, which were laid out in stripes in various shades of green. “We don’t really farm as a business anymore,” I explained, “but those are Teddy’s test crops.

He plants different kinds of seeds and tests them with all kinds of fertilizers to see what works best.”

“That would be the formula he was talking about?”

“Yes, and like I warned you, don’t ask him about it. It’s like someone asking you a question about how magic works. Now, over there is the barn, which mostly serves as a storage shed. We have a few head of cattle—again, for comparing different kinds of feed—and some horses that are more pets than anything. And there you are. So I guess we need to go talk to Sam?”

He produced the keys to the rental car and said, “Yeah, we’re set for a meeting in fifteen minutes.”

“Then I am part of the investigation, huh?”

“Only because it would be suspicious if I went off by myself so soon after getting here. That would raise too many questions with your family.”

That wasn’t exactly an enthusiastic invitation, but it didn’t stop me from getting into the car with him.

I couldn’t blame him for being a bit hurt and upset about the way things had happened, but I was sure he’d understood. And hey, it hadn’t been a picnic for me, either.

As we drove away, I noticed the kitchen curtains moving and knew we were being watched. Mom and Granny probably thought we were off for a big, romantic night, but except for the one moment when he’d put his arm around me, he’d been acting anything but romantic. He seemed almost as distant as if he were still in New York rather than right there beside me.

“I guess we’re heading to the square,” I said when the silence in the car grew oppressive.

“No, that’s too public for a meeting. It takes too much power to conceal something that complex.

We’re meeting somewhere else.” It was my hometown, but he seemed to know his way around already, turning onto side streets without hesitation. We pulled up in back of the town’s Catholic church, where a lone gargoyle sat on the roof ridge. He swooped down to join us.

“Ah, that’s more like it,” Sam said. “I need a little recharge from perching on a church every so often.

I was afraid if I sat on that courthouse much longer, I’d turn into a lawyer. So, what’s the plan, boss?”

“You haven’t been able to identify our culprit?”

“Hey, Katie-bug here’s the local.” He turned to me. “You know the townfolk. Did old Prances in Robes ring a bell with you?”

“There wasn’t anything particularly distinctive about him—or her. I guess it would help if he’d walked with a limp or had a certain gait that looked familiar, or maybe wore personalized cowboy boots under his robes so they showed when he took a step. I don’t think I even saw his feet.”

“What’s your assessment of our local wizard?” Owen asked Sam.

“Pretty basic magic. Really rough, not a lot of power or control. I’m most worried about him using magic as a pickpocketing tool.”

“Yeah, that does put things closer to the dark side, which isn’t a good introduction to magic,” Owen mused. “I’m curious to see these lessons and how well they work. We don’t often see people learning as adults.”

“How do people learn they’re magical?” I asked.

“It’s an inherited trait, so parents are generally magical and then they know to look for the signs in their children.”