..…CHAPTER 28…..
November 16th
“Mr. Isaac Kidd?”
He turned quickly from assembling a computer on the counter behind the customer’s counter, and Oliver didn’t miss the instant tension as he took in his identity.
Kudos for his quick thinking, as the younger man adopted a bland expression. “How can I help you?”
Oliver smiled coolly and handed him the laptop. “I need some repairs on my computer.”
He smiled sweetly back, setting the laptop gently in front of Oliver. “I’m sorry, we don’t accept witch computers without the permission and accompaniment of their Handler.”
“Hmmm. It sounds like that should be on both ends, then. Don’t you think, Mr…Kidd?”
The man’s face closed instantly.
Oliver leaned forward, staring hard at him. “Or should I say, Witch Isaac?” he whispered.
“Get the fuck out,” he breathed.
“But I have business here,” he murmured, straightening and giving his computer a tiny nudge toward him.
Isaac’s hands settled on the edge of the counter, a casual action that didn’t fool him for a second. He knew Isaac was pushing the security button. Oliver smiled. “I’ll show you my Handler if you show me yours.”
“I don’t have a Handler,” he said coldly. “I’m not Tame.”
Oliver guessed that was supposed to be an insult. In a way, it was, but he loved Oscar and Tracy, so the insult lost its sting. “You look like you need one, kid. And Wild isn’t all that flattering a term either.”
His face went red at the insult of needing a Handler. “Depends on the context, doesn’t it?”
Oliver grinned with real amusement. “Yes. It does.”
Isaac blinked in confusion at his humor. Then the curtain behind him parted and an older man stepped out, early to mid-forties, five foot ten of broad stockiness, with brown curly hair and sky-colored eyes nowhere near as electric blue as Isaac’s. Oliver sensed his magic immediately. The moment he saw Oliver, his brow lifted. Recognition lit his gaze.
So, they had been researching him and Oscar.
“I’m Dillon Sharp, owner of the company. Can I help you?”
Lightly tapping his computer, Oliver said, “can you fix it or should I take my business elsewhere?”
The man stepped up to the counter with a regretful smile. “Your Handler needs to accompany you, I’m afraid.”
Oscar took the cue and came from the aisles of computer supplies and parts, moseying to the counter. “I’m his Handler.”
Isaac glared at Oscar with loathing.
Oliver lost all humor. He reached across, gave the younger man a hard shove. “Watch it, or I’ll bury you,” he growled.
Dillon put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder as the younger man went red, clearly ready to scuttle whatever plans they had, by attacking in kind.
Oliver slapped his hands onto the counter and leaned over, glaring at him straight in the eye. “My Handler is like my brother, he’s my best friend, so don’t fuck with him.”
“And my witch is like my little brother. So don’t fuck with him,” Oscar followed up.
The older man nodded without a hint of surprise. “Understood. Isaac, why don’t you go cool off?”
“I’m fine,” he snapped.
Oliver smiled and straightened. “Good. Now take my fucking computer.”
“We’ll be very happy to help you. You understand we aren’t being discriminatory. We legally couldn’t accept it without your Handler’s presence.”
“We understand completely,” Oscar said with a wave of his hand. “How long till you can get it back to us?”
“I’ll personally check it out today and give you an estimate by this evening.”
“That’s excellent. Oliver don’t be such hot-head. Apologize.”
Oliver shrugged, pleased with the whole scene. They’d established a great deal in five minutes. “Sorry about that, wildy. Just making sure you know my feelings on the matter.”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like you.”
Oliver laughed softly. “Don’t have to like someone to do business.”
Dillon nodded. “True.” His gaze flicked to Oscar. “Kids these days.”
Oscar laughed, a full-on laugh of genuine amusement. “Oh god, yes.”
Dillon’s mouth curved, eyes sparkling. “Hope they grow out of it.”
“Don’t count on it,” Isaac muttered.
Oliver grinned. “What he said.”
Oscar winked. Then they turned and left without another word, the tinkle of the bell over the door saying goodbye instead of the two men at the counter who spoke in terse whispers.
“That went well,” Oscar said cheerily.
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, Isaac has a temper. Never met a more typical Fire witch.”
“Not true,” Oscar countered.
Oliver glanced at his Handler. “Oh?”
“He doesn’t have red hair.”
Oliver laughed.