“You want me to pry into a Cannon Hill investigation.”
“Please?”
“I don’t see any harm,” Louisa said. “It’s not as if it’s a confidential file, and Bex has proven her use to you.” She put her hand on his.
He lifted it and kissed her hand. For a second, they stared at each other in such a besotted fashion that I had butterflies in my stomach. I’d almost forgotten that sensation.
Then Trey became all business again. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks.” I sipped my latte.
“In return I want you to keep me informed if you uncover anything that might be important.”
“Deal,” I said, with the silent caveat that it was all a matter of interpretation. I wouldn’t want to send the man on a wild goose chase, after all.
I took my latte and left the couple to themselves.
A cold breeze, accompanied by rain spatter, hit me as soon as I left theAxes & Grinds. I hunched my head between my shoulders and sprinted to my car, or at least that was the plan.
“Wait up,” someone called out behind me, making me spin around. The lid from my coffee cup flew off and the liquid sloshed out. Only a quick spell prevented me from my clothes being drenched (yes, preventing personal disasters was allowed, according to Cosmo’s rules).
“Kyle?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He picked up the lid from the ground.
“No worries.” I took a Kleenex to dry the cup. There was hardly any coffee left and considering that Kyle had picked up the lid off the soggy ground, it was now destined for the recycling bin.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said.
“Of course! My cookie jar. Did your team enjoy my baking?”
“The guys loved them. I’ll drop the container off later, I promise.”
“That’s fine. But thanks for stopping me to let me know.”
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant. I’m supposed to give you this.” He reached into his jeans jacket and took an envelope from its inner pocket. It was simply addressed to Bex, in Candice’s slanted handwriting.
I frowned before I could stop myself. What on earth did she have to write to me?
I took the envelope and parted ways with Kyle.
***
Ange raced outside before I’d switched off my car engine. She yanked open the passenger door and sank onto the seat.
“What’s the hurry?” I asked.
“Do you want to tackle Skye today or not? Because I checked bookings on their website and saw that they’re having a private event this afternoon. No walk-ins possible.”
“Clever of you.”
“What can I say? I’m a sage, not just growing the name-sake plant.”
“You’re a sage and a mage and I don’t know how I coped for so long without my coven.”
I snagged the last parking spot on the block, so we’d only be exposed to the rain for a minute.
Inside the tattoo parlor, the curtains to two booths were closed. In the background I heard the whirring of the tattoo machine. A male voice talked about the Portland Pickles and their chances in the West Coast League. A female voice answered with “Uh-huh” in regular intervals. I deduced baseball did not top the list of her interests.
