“Did a blizzard come in in the time it took Ms. Marrow to brew a pot of tea?” Honey asked.
He leaned across the table and whispered, “I’m incognito.”
“Right. Because nothing says ‘I’m not a cop’ like dressing like a flasher from a 1950s noir film.”
“It’s nothing to do with being on the job.” He glanced around nervously. “And keep your voice down, will you? If Marlene sees me here, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Ah,” she said, nodding sagely. “The Great Kettle–Gribble’s Grub Cold War.”
“You joke,” he said, unwrapping his scarf just enough to breathe, “but the last time I so much as glanced at a croissant in this place, Marlene called dispatch to report an ‘utter betrayal’ daily for almost a month.”
“Well, you are a public servant,” Honey teased. “And clearly very brave.”
Theo gave her a long-suffering look. “You try policing a town full of witches and magic. You don’t even know the half of what’s hiding within the streets of Brim’s Hollow.”
Honey fell silent at that. She could imagine it. In fact, she had imagined it, more than once. Some part of her, buried beneath spreadsheets and protocols, whispered that maybe she belonged in a town like this. A town where magic hummed beneath the sidewalks.
But the fact of the matter was, she’d be home soon. Her job was nearly done.
She’d come to the café to get away. From the house, fromthe farm, from the growing pile of notes she still needed to turn into a final report. The audit was finished; all that was left was writing it up, sealing the file, and sending it off. It would be her ticket home and her path to the promotion she’d been waiting a decade for. She just…couldn’t make herself do it.
Instead, she was here, hoping the cozy hum of Clover’s café would drown out the churning of her thoughts.
Before she could spiral further, the girl helping Clover approached with a plate. She set a golden, glazed tart in front of her. Honey gave her a grateful smile, but the girl’s attention snagged on Theo. She paused, tilted her head, and then shrugged before retreating to the counter.
“Aren’t you going to order?” Honey asked once the girl had gone. She lifted her fork and gave him a sidelong look.
“No. Well. Yes. Eventually. I’m just…working up the courage.” He shifted in his seat. “I need to ask Clover for a favor, and I?—”
“Please don’t tell me if it’s against any regulations or laws,” Honey interrupted.
Theo reached across the table without shame, tore off a corner of her pastry, and popped it into his mouth. “You worry too much.”
Honey arched a brow, but before she could scold him or establish boundaries around sharing her dessert without asking, her phone gave a sharp jangle. She looked at the screen.
Mr. Aldridge.
She stiffened.
Theo followed her gaze. “Friend of yours?”
“Hardly,” she said, already rising. “That’s my boss.”
“You have a boss? I don’t know why I assumed you were the boss.”
She dropped her napkin on the table. “We all answer to someone.”
She hit accept and held the phone to her ear. “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Ms. Baxter.”
Honey froze. Mr. Aldridge was not a man for pleasantries or small talk. If he was starting with one now, something was very wrong.
“Is something the matter, sir?”
“No,” he said, though the hesitation in his tone made her doubt it. “I know this is highly unusual, maybe even out of order, but Dean Weisel turned in his final report already. He made a compelling case for reassignment.” He paused just long enough for her pulse to start thudding in her ears. “The Assistant to the Director of Arcane Relations isn’t a position that opens often.”
She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Of course. I’m just finalizing mine now. You’ll have it tonight.”
