His Wicked Witch

by Kim Loraine

  “It’s just a tarot reading and a little charm they can buy. I’ve got a sexy costume for you, and every fortune you read brings us more donations. Maybe if you’d been at the meeting you could’ve had more say.”

  I don’t have a comeback for that. She’s right. “Fine, but my tarot readings are going to be shitty.”

  She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. This is all for charity anyway. I just need each room to be hosted by one of the girls. You get to be the witch.”

  I grit my teeth, but nod. “Is the costume going to at least cover my ass?”

  A laugh falls from her. “I promise it will. I went with something a little…different for the witch.”

  Relief floods me. “Thank you.”

  She winks and walks away, but calls over her shoulder before she leaves, “We’re out of coffee, if that’s where you’re going.”

  Damn. I need caffeine after staying up all night with Jude. Pulling my wet hair up into a bun at the top of my head, I run upstairs and slip on a pair of old Converse sneakers before grabbing my purse. My sorority sisters are all bustling around, some dressed for working out, others heading to their weekend jobs. As much shit as sororities get from the general public, they’re truly great places to live during college…at least, this one is.

  “Hey, Tillie, where are you headed?” Samantha asks as I pass her when I come down the stairs. As usual, her blonde hair is piled on top of her head, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she works on her laptop.

  “Coffee. Want to join me?”

  She stares at her computer and sighs. “I can’t. I’ve got so much work to do.”

  “That’s going to be me after Monday. I’m six weeks behind in this stupid mythology and occultism class.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Oh, is Professor Monroe back? His wife just had a baby and I guess there were some complications.”

  I shrug. “I haven’t heard anything about it being cancelled.”

  “Hmm, hopefully that means everything’s good.” She frowns down at her laptop and purses her lips. “Enjoy your coffee. I’m stranded in dissertation hell.”

  “I can bring you back a latte if you want.”

  A grin lights up her pretty face. “Would you?”

  I nod. “Two pumps of vanilla?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  The crisp chill of fall hits me in the face as soon as I step onto the front porch of our sorority house. It’s refreshing and exhausting at the same time. I don’t function well on little sleep, and I can’t stop thinking about Jude. But I made my choice to leave. I’d said he was one night and one night only. That’s the plan I need to stick to.

  I walk the ten minutes it takes to get to the coffee shop and when I round the corner I crash straight into a broad chest. The man’s arms go around me to keep me from falling and he says, “Whoa there, I’ve got you.” His voice sends shivers of longing down my spine and I fight the instant reaction my body has to his. Because this isn’t just some guy. This is Jude. I knew it before he spoke. The warm spicy scent of his cologne does…things to me.

  “Jude,” I breathe.

  “Tillie.” There’s accusation in his tone, but excitement too. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

  In truth, I hadn’t planned on seeing him, but I can’t tell him that. Especially when my body is begging for me to close the distance between us. On reflex, I move to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, but there’s nothing to tuck. I put my hair up.

  “I like your hair this way.” His voice is rough and there’s a hint of longing in his eyes.

  “Yeah?”

  He reaches out and trails his fingertip over my ear. “Yes. I can see all of your beautiful face this way.”

  Swoon. This guy is making it really hard for me to walk away. I glance down and take in his clothes. He’s clearly dressed for a run, and he looks hotter than I remembered.

  “What are you doing right now?” I ask.

  “I’m about to meet my mate for a run. You?”

  I gesture to the coffee shop. “Coffee.”

  His bashful grin has my belly flipping. I want him to kiss me. “Why did you leave?”

  My chest squeezes. “I…it was one time.”

  “What if I want more?”

  “You’re leaving in a month.”

  He leans forward and whispers. “I don’t have to.”

  “What?”

  “I could extend my stay. I want to see where this goes between us.”

  A zing of anxious energy runs through me at that. But he’s right, there is something between us that’s more than a fleeting, passionate tryst. He’s intense and even though we barely know each other, I feel at home in his arms. He sees me.

  “We can…see how it goes,” I finally say. I promised myself I’d stay focused, that I’d make up for not being able to help Lucy once I start my career. Meeting a man isn’t part of my plan, but Jude is different.

  He leans in and brushes his lips over mine, a soft, chaste kiss. “Tomorrow night?”

  I shake my head. “I can’t. I’m crazy busy this week. I’m part of a charity haunted house and I have to get my portion of the work done.”

  “So, this weekend.”

  “Would you want to come to the haunted house first? We could go out after, but you have to come in costume.”

  He nods, pulls out his phone, then says, “Give me your number. I’m not letting you leave without a way to get in touch.”

  I can’t help my smile as I rattle off my phone number. Almost immediately, he’s sent me a text message.

  I can’t wait to see you.

  I respond with the address of the mansion we’re using for the haunted house, and he grins when the message arrives.

  Then his phone buzzes over and over in his hand and he frowns. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. My mate is likely to send out a search party if I don’t get my arse over there.”

  Taking my lower lip between my teeth, I nod and watch him begin to walk away. But he turns on his heels and jogs back to me. As soon as he clears the distance between us, he cups the back of my head and crushes his lips to mine. A wave of longing hits me hard enough to makes my knees weak. And just like that, he’s walking away again, leaving me breathless and wanting him.

  I stare down at his words on my phone and wonder if he just turned everything in my well-ordered life upside down.

  Your Pants Are On Fire

  Monday mornings are usually brutal for me. I’m a night owl, not the kind of guy who rises with the sun, chipper and cheery. I spent most of the night writing because I couldn’t sleep. I was too wrapped up in memories of Tillie to lie in bed. But I have to be presentable at eight this morning whether I’m tired or not.

  I pour my tea into a travel mug, then grab a piece of toast with jam to-go. If I don’t leave right now, I’ll be late for my first lecture. I wonder what Tillie is doing right now. Does she rush around in a mad dash to get out the door too? Or is she more pulled together than me?

  Thirty minutes later, I’m finishing the last dredges of my tea from behind my desk in the office I’ve been loaned. A soft knock on the door has me glancing at the time.

  “Come in,” I call.

  The door creaks open to reveal a starry-eyed girl who must be barely eighteen. She smiles and stares at me without speaking.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m sorry, I work in the office two days a week and… I just…can you sign my book before your lecture?”

  I let my frustration roll off my back at the interruption. I’m not here to do a book signing, but she’s obviously excited. Nodding, I motion for her to come farther inside and reach for her book.

  “What’s your name, love?”

  She blushes deep pink. “Hannah.”

  I write a short message for her and sign my name before handing the book back to her. “There you are.”

  “Thank you so much.” She starts to l
eave, but turns around again. “Oh, I was actually supposed to tell you that they’re ready to begin.”

  My gut clenches as nerves take hold. I’ve done the public speaking bit before, but never on this scale. I straighten my tie and grab my tablet which has all my notes saved, and I hate how my hands shake.

  When I walk into the lecture hall, I see rows of chairs arranged in stadium seating, most of them filled with people. People who are here to listen to me speak. I swallow past the lump in my throat and take my place at the lectern.

  “Mysticism and occult studies. That’s why you’re all here, right?”

  They nod, murmuring in agreement, so I continue. “But there’s more to this subject than incantations, tarot readings, and crystals. In the case of the occult, there’s also mass hysteria and real risk of persecution.” I clear my throat, and take a steadying breath as my nerves dissipate. “For instance, the infamous witch trials of Salem began with—”

  The door at the top of the stairs opens and a woman stumbles in, a messenger bag slung across her body, long hair obscuring her face.

  “Sorry, oh, God, I’m so sorry I’m late. I went to the wrong classroom.” My heart nearly stops at the voice that floats down to me.

  “Tillie?” I say and every pair of eyes in the room turns to stare at her.

  “Jude?” She glances up and tucks her hair behind her ear, revealing the beautiful face I’ve been fantasizing about seeing. The shock in her eyes says it all.

  She’s my student. Oh, fucking hell. I slept with my student.

  She rushes out of the lecture hall and all one-hundred students return their focus to me, anticipation humming in the room. They’re waiting to see if I’m going after her. But I can’t. I’ve committed to this class, and I can’t leave no matter how much I might want to.

  I clear my throat again and search the screen of my tablet for the last spot in my notes I can remember being on.

  “As I was saying…”

  But I can’t concentrate. All I see is the betrayal in her eyes. Instead of continuing, I close my tablet and place both hands on either side of the podium. “I’m afraid you’ll have to accept my apologies today. There’s some rather important business I have to see to.”

  There’s a collective buzz in the room as the class begins chattering, but I rush to the stairs, taking them two at a time until I reach the door.

  “Tillie!” I call, not caring who is watching. “Tillie!”

  I don’t see her, and my heart sinks. Bursting out of the building, I run until I reach the center of the courtyard where I see students milling about, studying under trees whose remaining leaves are colored with shades of gold and red. It would be idyllic if I weren’t so distressed.

  I scan my surroundings, hoping for a glimpse of her, needing to explain. But she’s gone. The woman is like a damned ghost when she wants to be. I pull out my phone and send her a text message.

  Don’t run from this.

  Heart in my throat, I wait as the little bubbles dance at the bottom of the screen and tell me she’s responding. It’s a long time before my phone vibrates in my hand with her message.

  This isn’t going to happen. You lied to me.

  My jaw hurts from clenching it so hard. I didn’t bloody lie to her. I said I was here for work. I said I was a writer. Those are all true.

  I didn’t lie. You’re the one who said you were a molecular biologist. You failed to mention you were a student.

  She doesn’t respond, and I can’t help but let out a frustrated growl. None of this is her fault. It’s not mine either. This is just an unfortunate circumstance, a roadblock to our happiness. All I have to do is convince her to listen.

  Blocked

  “He’s my professor,” I tell Kit as we sit together at our favorite pizza place two days after my disastrous run-in with Jude. “My married with a kid professor. Oh, God. I’m a home wrecker. His accent probably isn’t even real.” I drop my head into my hands and groan.

  “Wow, when you mess up you go all in, don’t you?”

  I lift my face and stare daggers at him. “Not helpful.”

  “It’s really a shame. He’s so hot. I mean, not as hot as your brother, but still.”

  I bristle at the mention of Austen. “Don’t talk about my brother like that. It’s gross.”

  “I can’t help it. Your brother is a fine specimen. I bet Samantha thinks so too from the way she’s been looking at him lately.”

  I sigh. “At least someone’s happy.”

  He cocks his eyebrow. “So the whole, age thing doesn’t bother you? She’s like thirty isn’t she? Why is she still in college.”

  “Twenty-seven. She’s a PhD student. And in case you’re forgetting, I slept with my married professor. I’d be the pot calling the kettle black if I had a problem with their age difference.”

  “True. So, what are you going to do? You have to take that class.”

  “I can’t. I can’t go back there and face him again. I tried yesterday and had a panic attack. Even the idea of seeing him is painful.”

  Kit frowns. “I thought he was just a one night fling.”

  “It was…but we had something. It was like…well, it was this crazy instant connection between us. He wanted to see me again, and I couldn’t say no. It felt so right.”

  He takes a long drink from his straw before looking back at me. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s a first.”

  He laughs and throws a wadded up napkin at me. “Bitch.”

  “I’ll just have to chalk this up to bad judgment and use it as a reminder to stay focused on my future. I let him distract me with his sexy mouth and beautiful body. That’s all. I’m going to have to pull out of his class and take an extra next quarter.”

  Kit nods and picks up his pizza, taking a huge bite. Conversation over. Decision made. I’m done with Jude. He’s not a possibility for me and he should be focused on his family.

  I studiously ignore my phone the rest of the day. Finally turning it off completely after Jude’s tenth text. I’d thought he would have given up by now, but he still tries to get in touch every day. I don’t want this reality to be true, because everything with him was so easy, so perfect. To have it all shattered with one sharp twist of fate makes anxiety blossom in my chest. How could my instincts be so wrong? I’ve always considered myself a good judge of character, but to miss something as monumental as him being married, having a newborn for heaven’s sake, means I have no idea what people are capable of.

  I push open the sorority house door and walk into something akin to a Halloween shop. Bags of cobwebs, buckets of candy and at least thirty uncarved pumpkins fill the front room. There are plastic bags from the local party store, boxes from Amazon, and costumes on hangers lining the stair bannister. Stacy stands amid the mess with a steamer in her hands as she runs it over the wrinkled fabric of a princess gown.

  “Good, you’re here,” she says. “We’re going over to decorate tomorrow so we’re ready for Halloween.”

  I fight my grimace. The last thing I want to do is pretend to be a witch and give people tarot readings and pretend love spells. “Stace—”

  “Look, I know you’re having a bit of a crisis at the moment. We all heard about your vanishing act in that class you were supposed to take. I can only assume it’s because of Mr. Walk-of-shame, but it’s better to keep yourself busy, do something with your time, than sit and dwell on it.”

  I sigh and stare at her. She’s right. “Okay. I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk about this whole thing.”

  “I get it. Probably more than you know.” She reaches up and grabs a long dress from where it hangs on the bannister. “Here. This one’s yours.”

  It’s very different from what I expected. A corset top with rich colored fabric and beautiful detailed embroidery along the skirt. “Stacy, this is gorgeous.”

  She shrugs. “Just because you’re a wicked witch, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be stunning.”

&
nbsp; I grin. “Like Sarah Jessica Parker in Hocus Pocus.”

  “Exactly.” I start up the stairs, but Stacy calls my name and stops me.

  “He’s an idiot if he hurt you. Just remember that. You’re deserving of a guy who’ll love you and be honest. Not one who makes you sad.”

  My eyes well with tears and I have to work to keep them from falling. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  I rush up the stairs and into my room, thankful I’m one of the few who got a private space in the house. My chest is tight with unshed tears and when I turn on my phone and see all the missed messages from Jude, they finally fall. “Leave me alone, asshole,” I shout, throwing my phone across the room. Reasonable? No. But he can’t keep doing this to me. He’s not available. He can’t love me like I love him.

  Wait. Love him? I can’t possibly already love him. But it’s there, that word hangs over me like a damn cloud. No. It’s not a cloud. It’s a seed. A seed this man planted the first moment I met him and now it’s grown in my heart and I can’t cut it out.

  Damn him.

  My stupid phone lights up from the pile of laundry it ended up landing in. I can’t ignore it any longer. My weakened heart won’t let me.

  Crossing the room, I bend down to pick up the slim device. His name flashes on the screen and my eyes fill with angry tears.

  I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.

  Oh, that’s fucking rich. He didn’t mean to hurt me? That makes absolutely no sense. Who did he mean to hurt then? His wife? His newborn? Or maybe he’d planned to keep this a secret forever. Just a blip in his marriage.

  I type back a furious message.

  Maybe you should be saying that to your wife, asshole.

  My finger hovers over the Send button, and after one brief moment of hesitation, I press it. He needs to know I’m aware of the depth of his betrayal. Not only to me, but to his family.

  His beautiful eyes flash in my memory and all I can think about is the adoration and pure connection I saw there. I feel like an idiot for believing him.

  My phone lights up as he calls me but I ignore him. I’ve said everything I need to say. He thought he could take advantage of me not knowing who he was, but he got caught.