Scowling, he jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, falling back on his heels. “Forget it. I’m not here to be prescribed anyway.”
“Not a doctor. I don’t prescribe. I just make suggestions and prepare the herbs. It has nothing to do with witchcraft, you know. There’s all kinds of research and studies and centuries of history where all kinds of people found uses and benefits for grass.”
Oh, yeah. He’d definitely messed up alright.
Why was he always screwing up when it came to her?