Page 5 of Summer L.A.W.

“It’s in the pantry now,” Victoria added grimly, sloshing past with her bucket.

Sahara appeared from the hallway holding what looked suspiciously like a dripping grimoire. “It’s also in the library. I called Raoul, our live-in pool boy, and guess what? He’s in Spain.”

Crystal blinked. “Wait. How does water get from the kitchen to the library?”

“Magic,” Lioness said, still holding her mop wrong. “Or old plumbing.”

That’s when the doorbell rang. Three sharp chimes, confident as if someone was sure they were the solution to everyone’s problem.

Sahara straightened, mopping in a perfect pivot toward the door. “That’ll be the plumber. Please tell me he’s not ninety.”

The plumber was not ninety. The plumber was tall enough to reach the top shelf without a ladder, with forearms that belonged in maritime folklore, wearing a tool belt that had seen better days but somehow made him hotter. Dark hair, blue coveralls, and the kind of easy grin that suggested he could charm an industrial valve into working again.

He looked around at the witches, at the ankle-deep water, and let out a low whistle. “Ladies, I’m Mason Tidewell, Raoul’s temporary replacement. Where do you want me to start?”

“In the kitchen,” Joell said, smooth as cream. “Then all the way to the library. We’ll… supervise.”

The plumber, Mason, sauntered to the sink, toolbelt shifting with each precise movement of his hips. He had that quiet focus of someone who knew exactly what they were doing and how good they looked doing it.

Crystal leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, watching him set down his toolbox and kneel beside the sink. The bird above her gave a soft, knowing trill.

If the ocean had more to say, it could wait.

Lioness leaned one hip against the counter, her mop abandoned in favor of a hair-twirl. “So, is this a big job?” she asked, voice sugar-sweet.

“Could be,” he said, flashing a grin over his shoulder. “Might have to be here a while.”

Sahara, casually drying her hands on a dishtowel, stepped a little closer. “We don’t mind long jobs,” she said, with the kind of tone that could sweeten a camel’s disposition.

Lioness and Sahara traded a look that said they’d just mentally put him on the dessert menu.

Crystal rolled her eyes so hard they could’ve spun a ceiling fan. “Do you two need a chaperone, or should I go get a bucket of cold water? Oh, wait… We’ve already got plenty.”

The plumber chuckled without looking up and reached for a wrench. “Don’t worry, I can handle myself.”

“That’s what they all say,” Crystal muttered. “Then they drown.”

Brianna smirked at her. “Are you always this warm and welcoming?”

“Only when I’m wet and cold,” Crystal shot back. “Which, congratulations, is now.”

“Congratulations?” Joell echoed sharply. “This isn’t our fault.”

The plumber tightened something under the sink, muscles flexing just enough to make both Sahara and Lioness lean in an inch. Crystal crossed her arms, deciding someone had to be the voice of reason, and clearly, that someone was her.

“I’m going to make tea,” she announced. “You know, in case anyone here forgets this is an actual emergency and not a bachelorette party.”

Her bird gave a dry little trill from its perch on the fridge, and Crystal was pretty sure it was laughing at her.

The plumber twisted the wrench one last time, then reached deeper into the pipes with a gloved hand. When he pulled it back out, his palm glittered with wet, irregular fragments. They were pale green and blue, translucent, their edges smoothed as if the ocean had been polishing them for years.

“Well, that’s new,” he said, holding them up to the light. “I’ve seen all kinds of things clog a drain, but this? Looks like beach glass.”

Victoria leaned in, eyes narrowing. “That’s not⁠—”

“Pretty, though,” Sahara cut in, but her tone was sharp. “Like jewelry.”

Lioness bent closer, brow furrowing. “Wait. Those look like⁠—”