Leaning against the counter, I held my mug with both hands and took a long sip. Coffee slid down, easing my jitters. Something in Ivy’s posture caught my attention. Her cheeks were a shade red. “I think you like him,” I said, and her head jerked up. “I think you like older men,” I added. “Especially older men in suits that bite and can plan better than you.”

At that, she did flush. “And I think you should shut up.”

We both started at the soft knock on the archway to the hall. It was Mrs. Aver, and it was embarrassing that neither of us had heard her come out of the bathroom. She was dressed in my robe, her clothes over one arm. “Here you go, honey,” she said as handed me her gray suit.

“Thanks.” I set my coffee down and took it.

“If you would, drop them off at Weres-’N-Tears dry cleaners. They do a good job getting out blood and stitching up small rips. Do you know where that is?”

I looked at the matronly woman standing before me in my fuzzy blue robe, her long brown hair down about her shoulders. She looked to be about the same size as me, if a bit hippy. My hair was a shade darker, but it was close enough. “Sure,” I said.

She smiled. Ivy was back at her maps, ignoring us, her foot silently moving. “Great,” the Were said. “I’m going to change and say ’bye to David before I leave on four feet.” Flashing me a toothy grin, she sashayed to the hallway, hesitating. “Where’s your back door?”

Ivy stood up with a noisy scrape of a chair. “It’s broken. I’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you,” she said with that same polite smile. They left, and I slowly I brought the woman’s clothes to my nose. They were still warm from her body heat, and the faint scent of musk mixed with a light meadowy smell. My lips curved downward at the idea of wearing someone else’s clothes, but the entire idea was to smell like a Were. And it wasn’t as if she had brought me rags to put on. The lined wool suit must have cost her a bundle.

Steps slow and measured, I went to my room. That dating guide was still out on my dresser, and I looked at it with a mix of depression and guilt. What had I been thinking, wanting to read it again with the idea to drive Kisten wild? Miserable, I shoved it in the back of my closet. God help me, I was an idiot.

Resigned, I slipped out of my jeans and sweater. Soon the clack of nails in the hallway intruded, and as I put on my nylons, there was the pained sound of nails being pulled from wood. The new door wouldn’t be in until tomorrow, and it wasn’t as if she could slip out a window.

I was feeling very unsure about this, and it wasn’t anything I could really pinpoint. It wasn’t going in charmless, I thought as I shimmied into the gray skirt and tucked the white blouse in. Ivy and Kisten would be bringing in everything I needed; my duffel bag of spells was already packed and waiting in the kitchen. And it wasn’t because I was going up against someone better in ley line magic. I did that all the time.