Page 11 of The Mechanics of Broomstick Racing

“You just want to play with her,” Zephyr grumbled, but she drove into the open garage and parked. Dale finally emerged from Neil’s pocket, flying up into the rafters to escape the odd tension between the two witches.

“Keys,” Neil said as he held out a hand. Zephyr tossed her car keys over a little faster than necessary. He added, “I’ll look her over, do an oil change, but nothing invasive.”

“How do you know I need an oil change?”

“When was the last time you—”

She surrendered. “Okay, okay. But I’d better get a discount.”

“No discounts for the woman who bragged about her bank account to me just a few days ago.”

That was fair.

As Neil pressed a button on the wall, forcing the garage door back down, Zephyr called for her familiar. What a mess of a day. Neil was hardly any less stoic than usual, and she wasn’t any less frustrated.

“Dale! Get down here!” The cardinal ignored her, too busy snooping through other birds’ nests up in the rafters.

Zephyr’s nose twitched. A deep voice, too familiar, caught her attention. The announcer growled into a microphone, “—and newcomer Zephyr McAllister has taken the lead, despite her setback in that last turn—”

“What the hell is that?” Zephyr scanned the garage. She momentarily left Dale to his own devices—always a bad idea. The source turned out to be a small television in a corner of the garage. It played an old race of hers—one that had occurred during her rookie year. She winced in anticipation.

Neil appeared next to her. He coughed once and explained, “It might seem otherwise, but I’m not the only guy who works here. The others put this sort of thing on all the time.”

Greens and blues and a snow-white peak in the distance filled the screen. Zephyr appeared, a blur of red and long blonde hair, racing over the tops of a pine forest. A flock of camera-bearing familiars flew after her, capturing her every move. A man caught up to her, and he attempted to knock her off her broom. It was a shitty move, but legal.

Zephyr watched her old self roll out of the way, a camera catching a close-up of her expression as she stuck out her tongue and flipped herself right side up. She flew on to win the race—ten seconds ahead of second place.

Gods, she used to be so fearless.

“You’re a master,” Neil said quietly, watching the screen with more attention than she would have expected.

She shrugged. “You might want to use the past tense there.”

The screen flashed from the finish line to the pit, where a reporter caught Zephyr for an interview. She grinned wildly into the camera, breathless, and yet, she did not stop talking.

The reporter had yet to ask a single question as Zephyr blabbered, “I mean, it’s no surprise I won today. And last week. And the two weeks before that. I’m racing against boys here, not men. Except you, Gina. I fucking love Gina.” She pointed a finger like a gun into the camera. “I’m talking about Jaxon fucking Wendt. Tried to knock me off my broom, again, but I’m just too fucking good.”

A grating bleep overpowered her every curse, but there was no mistaking what she was actually saying.

“One of the last great poets,” Neil remarked, a brow quirked as she groaned.

“It’s called shit-talking for a reason,” she said defensively.

Onscreen, old—or was it young?—Zephyr seemed to notice the reporter for the first time. She blinked at him. “Did you ask me if I’m going to win the Racing Cauldron?”

“I haven’t asked anything—”

“Let me answer your question with another question. Do you really think any of these has-beens can beat me?”

Neil snapped her back to the present by turning the television off with a click of a remote. He looked at her, but she raised a hand before he could speak.

“Not a word, Finnegan. And I did win the Cauldron as a rookie.” Now she used the golden cauldron trophy to store her unsorted mail, but Neil never had to find out about that.

“Zephyr.” Neil gently laid a hand on her upper arm to catch her attention. “Don’t cringe. I’m not going to talk about that interview. Although, it’s nice to see some things do change. A little.” He took a reluctant breath. “I wanted to take something back. I shouldn’t have accused you of hiding. I don’t know why you came back. Or how long you’ll stay. Not to mention the irony of someone like me accusing anyone of hiding themselves.” She stared at his hand on her arm until he self-consciously removed it. Neil coughed. “Anyway, I’ll call you when your car is—”

Impulsivity also fueled the rush she craved. Zephyr didn’t think. She just grabbed Neil’s collar and yanked him down as her feet pushed off the ground. She floated, only for a second, before kissing him hard. When she pulled back, her magic hovered her there as they stared, wide-eyed, at each other.

Fighting with him hadn’t given her the high she wanted. And judging by his stunned look, flirting wouldn’t give her what she wanted either.