Page 1 of Luck Be a Genie

Chapter 1

Lucky

Icould tell my boss was trying not to curse as my third computer this year melted before our very eyes.

And I do mean melted.

I googled it at one point, and computers, in point of fact, should not strictly melt like this unless someone tossed them onto a raging bonfire.

But I had new info for that article, because computers could and did melt around me.

Most of the other staff were gone for the day, but Nick, to my horror, was staring at my computer as though he’d never seen anything like it before, when I knew for a fact he was there the last time this had happened.

I remembered the mortification well, despite the fact that it was a feeling I was very familiar with.

As I stared at the melting plastic, I couldn’t help the sense of hopelessness that washed over me at this latest disaster. Was it too much to ask to be able to complete my job without my curse ruining everything?

The answer was yes.

Yes, it was too much to ask.

Tears burned, but I held them back. I couldn’t take this anymore. Every day was a new disaster. A new way to disappoint my boss. A new way to disappoint myself. A new way to humiliate myself.

I was done.

I slowly stood from behind my desk with what dignity remained to me, and gathered my go-bag—a habit I’d picked up from my friend Dice—and my water bottle that I’d already knocked over and spilled over everything twice today.

Finn’s expression gentled when he got a good look at my expression, at the tears I was holding at bay by sheer willpower. Being a shifter, he could also smell my emotions, which certainly helped when your secretary was a disaster, and you didn’t want to scar her for life with your disappointment.

“Lucky, let’s meet for a few minutes in my office,” he said, making a motion to Nick to clean up the trashed computer. Nick nodded and went to work unplugging everything before he gingerly grabbed up the melted pieces and started shunting everything into the metal trash can I kept right by my desk.

The office smelled like charred plastic, which was probably making Finn gag internally.

I ignored him, though it was more out of self preservation than anything like rebellion. Not many people felt safe telling a lion shifter no, but I knew he probably wouldn’t fire me, even though I totally deserved it.

“I’m going home,” I said instead, stepping around Nick’s big bulky frame, and ignoring the concerned glances he was sending my way.

Nick was sweet, and... completely wonderful, but I was a walking, talking disaster, and I needed to stay away from him before I ruined his life. I ignored the fact that I hadn’t ruined Dice’s life yet, or my grandfathers. Or the fact that deep down I knew I was just afraid. Afraid of my magic hurting them, and of sharing my life with someone. Afraid that with enough time, they’d come to hate me, or at the very least resent me, and that my curse would turn love and affection and devotion into a twisted mess of something I wanted no part of.

“Now, Lucky,” my boss said, and I sighed as I changed directions and entered Finn’s office.

“Shut the door please.”

I did.

Normally, I felt like a kid getting called into the principal’s office when Finn called me in for a quick meeting after one of my disasters, but all I was feeling right now was a shame so deep that it was threatening to bury me alive, and an awful sense of heartbroken apathy.

Was this what happened to people when life was awful for a very long time? This feeling like I was completely broken? This sense of hopelessness, twisted with grief and any bit of happiness whatsoever?

It sucked.

Big time.

I was not a fan at all.

I sighed as I slumped into the chair opposite Finn’s desk. Avoiding looking at him, I let my gaze travel over his extensive novel collection on the bookshelves lining the wall to the side of his desk. When I saw the bright pops of color that were his sweet romance books, I paused. In the past, he’d let me borrow a few of them, even knowing he might never see them again if my curse did something to somehow destroy them. But he’d let me borrow them anyway.

Why?