Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Paul held out his hand for Milo’s gift. “What have you got for me?”
Milo had already given Holt the shirt, and they’d had a good laugh, so the party wasn’t going terribly.
He handed over the present.
“I told him he shouldn’t participate.” Paul’s wife—whose name had slipped Milo’s mind—rolled her eyes at her husband. “It’s not right to make employees buy things for their superiors.”
“It’s my company,” Paul grumbled, aggressively ripping off the bow.
Yikes. There was a bite to his words, and his wife’s lips thinned. Milo wished he could slink away. Jane had promised him a hot toddy.
Paul tore the wrapping paper and opened the box, his brow furrowing. His wife peeked over and gasped. Paul’s face went pale, then red, blooming with purple.
He slammed the lid on the box. “What the fuck?” Paul’s glare landed on Milo. “Where did you get this?”
Milo’s stomach dropped, and the calm feeling that had followed him from the gift shop evaporated.
“Who cares where he got it?” Linda—that was Paul’s wife’s name—turned her own impressive shade of red. “I fucking knew it.”
Paul grabbed Milo’s arm and squeezed.
“Ow. Let go.” Milo tugged away, but Paul’s grip tightened.
He dragged Milo from the restaurant’s function room into the hall by the restrooms, and Linda marched after them.
Paul ignored her, all his attention on Milo. “Where the fuck did you get that picture, and what are you playing at, giving it to me in front of my wife? At a work event. This is sexual harassment.”
“Sexual… What?” Milo’s head spun. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I bought that at a secondhand shop.”
Not that he knew what was in the box. Why didn’t he check? Or ask?
“Bullshit,” Paul hissed, his purple face looming and grip bound to leave a bruise on Milo’s arm.
“Don’t swear at the boy,” Linda snapped. “This isn’t his problem. You’re the one in the wrong. I’m calling my sister’s lawyer, and don’t even think about trying to get custody of the dog.”
Lawyer? Custody of the dog? It was like Milo had stepped into an alternate dimension, where everything appeared normal but was actually horribly wrong. The cheerful carols playing in the background only added to the nightmarish ambiance.
“You didn’t get a picture of me”—Paul’s eyes bulged, voice dropping to a low hiss—“in a compromising position from a secondhand shop. Have you been spying on me?” Abruptly, he released Milo and rounded on Linda. “Did you put him up to this?”
Linda’s lip curled. “I don’t even know Mark.”
“It’s Milo,” he corrected, though no one seemed to hear him.
Linda and Paul talked over each other, voices rising and effectively drowning out the Christmas carols.
How had a compromising picture of his boss’s boss been at that shop? How had Maeve even known who Paul was from nothing but his name? His last name was fucking Smith.
Paul gestured wildly, and the lid of the box went flying. The photo fluttered to the ground and landed at Milo’s feet.
Oh fuck.
The picture showed Paul having sex with a woman who was very obviously not Linda. He snatched the picture and crumpled it in his hand.
What. The. Hell. Was. Going. On?
Blood rushed in Milo’s ears, his heart hammering. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t know.”
Paul and Linda both glared at him.
“You’re fired.” Paul snatched the photo from Milo’s hand.
“No, please.” Milo’s chest tightened. “I need this job. I swear I didn’t know what was in the package.”
“So, what, this picture magically appeared?”
It sure as fuck felt like it. “I don’t know where it came from. Please, you have to believe me.”
Paul sneered. “I don’t actually. Get out of here, or this is going to get much worse for you.”
Milo wanted to argue. Beg for his job. Ask if he’d still get his last paycheck. Confirm whether this was a two weeks’ notice or an immediate dismissal. But Paul was looking closer and closer to strangling him, so he hurried away, down the hall and through the main restaurant.
This couldn’t be happening. Milo had been hoping for a promotion, to get ahead of his bills for once, and now he wouldn’t be able to make rent.
He grabbed his coat and scarf from the coat check and stormed into the night.
Maeve had set him up. Maybe she knew Linda or the woman in the photo.
Whatever had happened, Milo was getting answers.
The gift shop was closed when he arrived, out of breath from running, his head pounding with the beginning of a tension headache. The billion Christmas lights adorning the shop flashed as if taunting him, but the neon sign declaring the Ideal Gift was dark.
Milo pounded on the door. “Maeve!”
He didn’t expect her to be there, but what else could he do? He’d stand here all night and ambush her when she returned in the morning if he had to.
Milo’s throat burned, and his eyes stung. No. He wouldn’t give in to the feelings threatening him. He could deal with this like he did everything else in life, as soon as he figured out what he was up against.
A light came on in the shop, and Milo’s fist froze mid-pound. Maeve appeared behind the counter and, upon spotting him, hurried forward.
“Back so soon.” She opened the door, concern lining her face. “Come in. What’s wrong?”
Milo pushed past her, surprised to find the shop as warm and seasonally fragrant as before. Had they left the heat on? The candle was out, so maybe the scent was from a diffuser.
He shook himself. “Why did you give me a picture of my boss cheating on his wife?”
Maeve shut the door and folded her hands in front of her. She’d changed out of the flowy dress she’d worn earlier and into a fuzzy robe and slippers. Maybe there was an apartment upstairs.
“Paul wanted a divorce more than any other gift. Giving it to him was simple and inexpensive, which were your requirements.”
Milo clenched his fist. “And when you think of reasons to blow up someone’s marriage, are simple and inexpensive reasonable priorities?”
“They were your priorities,” she said calmly.
Maybe Milo had fallen into an alternate dimension. This could not be real.
“Maeve…” Another woman entered the shop, a lovingly exasperated look on her heart-shaped face. “Don’t torture the young man.”
At least she looked about twenty years older than Milo, so calling him young wasn’t as insulting.
But that was so not the point right now.
“I’m not torturing him, love.” Maeve shook her head. “I gave him exactly what he asked for. The ideal gift for Paul Smith, whom he works with. Paul wanted a divorce.”
The second woman cringed. “Run through that one more time for me, darling.”
Maeve muttered to herself, seeming to think deeply. “Ah… This is a human thing, isn’t it?”
A human thing?
“What the fuck is happening?” Milo meant to shout, but it sounded more like he was about to burst into tears. “I lost my job. I’m lucky no one’s coming after me for harassment for giving out pornographic pictures at a work function.”
“Maeve,” the second woman hissed, horror breaking over her pretty face.
“I know… I see it now. To be fair, I didn’t realize it was an explicit picture. The spell really needs a few more parameters to ensure the gift doesn’t harm the giver if their desires run counter to the giftee’s. Or harm anyone else, I suppose.”
Milo ran a hand through his hair, his curls tangled by the wind. “I’m sorry, spell? Harm?”
Both women looked at him.
“Don’t panic.” The mystery woman raised her hands in a placating gesture. “Magic is real, but it isn’t something we humans usually have to worry about.”
We humans? Milo’s growing headache really wasn’t helping. “Who are you? And what…?” He turned to Maeve. “Aren’t you human?”
Maeve smiled sweetly. “No, but there’s nothing to be frightened of.”
“The fact you’re even saying that begs to differ.” Milo took a step backward. Maybe he’d gotten high, forgotten he’d taken something, and this was all a hallucination.
God, please let it be a hallucination. The fact that he’d never gotten high in his life was against him, but he was desperate.
“I’m Alice,” the other human in the room said. “Maeve is my mate—wife, to use a more typical term. I’m so sorry you’ve been caught up like this. The gift shop is a trial run, and we thought—”
“I don’t care about the shop. I lost my job! I need to pay rent in two weeks. I don’t even care about magic right now unless it can solve all the problems your spell created.” Fuck, Milo wouldn’t even get a reference after what happened. He was screwed.
He hated working in administration—computers and sitting around all day drained his soul—but it paid okay. And he’d had a career path all planned out. Now, he’d be lucky to get another professional job in this city, if Paul spread word around that he was trouble.
“I don’t think we need magic to solve this,” Alice said, pulling Milo from his worry spiral. “I’m filling a bunch of positions at the moment. Consider yourself hired.”
“Really?” Milo trembled as relief appeared on the horizon. “Where do you work?”
“The Shearwater Landing Mall. I manage the vendors and businesses.”
Milo nodded. “I’m used to corporate work.”
“Oh, we aren’t hiring in the office at the moment. It’s for Santa’s Village. We need a few more full-time gift wrappers for the next month.”
A bitter laugh bubbled out of Milo. “Gift wrapping. Seriously?” He never wanted to see another Christmas gift again.
“You could start on Monday,” Alice offered.
He couldn’t actually afford to say no. At least he’d have a month to figure something out. He turned to Maeve. “Can your magic gift spell get me a better job? It’s what I want most.”
Maeve frowned, though her gaze remained tender. “I don’t think it is what you want most, dear.”
Milo’s cheeks flushed hot. Sure, his deepest desires had nothing to do with work. “How—how would you know?”
“Magic.” She shrugged, her demeanor taking on an assessing edge. “Take the job with Alice. I think you were meant to all along.”