Page 7 of The Tea Witch's Promise

"There are a lot of wards here that don't have proper tattoos." I shrugged my jacket partially off so I could show him the ward tattoo of Banjo, not that he hadn't seen it before. It was a miniature version of the border collie and it reacted to my touch, sitting up and cocking his head to the side in exactly the same way as the real one.

Brew's smile softened his features. "I've always loved seeing your tattoos."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "W-What?"

"I just love the way they move. Back when we were younger and I didn't fully understand how we were so different, I used to pester Oliver to give me one too," he said, chuckling. "Especially when our cat died. I thought it was unfair that you and Oliver got to keep your pets with you while I had to say goodbye. So yeah, I love ward tattoos."

Oh, that meant he wasn't talking specifically about mine. That made more sense.

I pulled my jacket back on. "Well, I'm lucky that I have a really detailed tattoo that's bound to Banjo. When he passes on, I'll always have a part of him on me. Other wards aren't so lucky and have to make do with pawprints or just simple tally marks. And there are a lot of youngsters who don't even have their first tattoo."

"And that's a problem?" Brew asked. He didn't sound judgmental, just curious. Which was fair. Everything I knew about tea witches and how his magic worked came from what Brew and his siblings had told me, I imagined it was the same for him with wards and how our magic worked.

"It creates tension between wards. There's a sense of superiority in the settlement at the moment which is affecting everyone's ability to work together. There simply aren't enough tattoo artists in the hub to keep up with the demand." I spotted a fence panel that looked worse for wear and gave it a good jiggle. It was loose and looked like it could give in entirely with one well-placed kick from the goats within. "Oh, this is going to need repairing."

Brew gave it a shake of his own. "Yeah, unless we want to be responsible for the first great goat disaster."

"The first great goat disaster?"

"Yes! Goats everywhere! Stealing food, nibbling on people's clothes, eating people's hair," he joked. "Goats can be a menace."

The image made me laugh and I gave Brew a good-natured pat. "Let's not inflict that on the good people of Purple Oak."

His grin made his eyes crinkle. "Boring."

"Isn't it our job to be boring and protect the people who live here?" I asked as I pulled out a handful of nails.

"Yes," he responded quietly, almost as if he didn't want me to hear him admit it.

"Hold these, please?"

He opened his palm and let me drop the nails onto it. I grabbed the hammer from my bag and turned my attention to the fence post. It didn't take long for the two of us to get the slats firmly back in place. I gave the whole post a jiggle just to check that it wasn't going to move and stepped back to admire my handiwork.

"That's not going anywhere," I said, proud of the result.

He gave it a pat. "Nice work."

"You're a good assistant."

"Always happy to help." He gave me a soft smile. "I like it when you rely on me."

There was something strangely tender in the way he was looking at me and it was making my chest tight. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, I knew what it felt like to be flustered because of a cute guy, it just hadn't happened with Brew before.

I quickly looked away. I refused to become one of those giggly women falling for the Rooibos charm.

We set back in motion and I was grateful for Banjo's presence. He barked at some of the curious goats, almost slipped on a patch of frost, and entertained us with some demanding tail wagging.

Brew conjured a piece of dried meat from his pocket which he dangled in front of Banjo. I didn't know why he had so much snacking meat on him, especially because I'd never seen him eat it. My dog didn't ask any questions though and just pushed his snout into Brew's hand for a treat.

There was something about the way he gave it to Banjo that made my heart flutter. I didn't see him interact with very many familiars, but there was no doubt he was good with them. Or maybe he was just good with Banjo because he'd known the dog since he was a puppy and I'd proudly carried him over to Brewster Hall to show him off as my new familiar.

Brew ruffled the top of Banjo's head before my dog raced off ahead.

"So, the ward ceremony?" Brew prompted.

"Right." I tore my gaze away from him and focused on the path. "I was chatting with my friend Carly, she and her dad are tattoo artists. They said they would like to do more ward tattoos but it's very time-consuming and they can't keep up with the influx of wards coming to the hub. There are talks of training more apprentices but for that, they would need support from the families."

Brew hummed. "Funds or space?"