“Hey!” Molly shrieked. “Hey! Stop!”
“Out,” Harper said flatly.
“No, I love him!” Molly tried to get away, but Harper had been in too many nasty foster homes and group homes to not be extra vicious. “She’ll never love you like I do, Quincy. I love you!”
Harper cackled as she yanked Molly making her whimper.
“Quincy!” Molly shrieked. “I’ll be everything for you. I love you. You long stretch of…person.”
Harper had to stop hauling the jezebel out because the laughter was making it impossible to keep going.
“Get rid of her,” Quinton begged. “Harper make it stop.”
“Ok, Quincy,” Harper called. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”
“He wears panties?” Molly asked, eyes wide. “I…I mean…for you Quincy. I…I…guess. I mean…it’s a little weird. But for you…for you…don’t let her make me leave you. We could be so good together.”
“Hey,” Harper said, grabbing Molly’s chin, “Are you high?”
“On love,” Molly almost sang. “Love. Love! Love like you’ll never feel. You can never love him like I do.”
“Mmmm,” Harper examined Molly’s pupils, but they looked normal. “Get out.”
“No!”
“Get out or I’ll set your car on fire,” Harper said flatly. She glanced down Arbor Avenue looking for someone who could at least witness the madness. What the heck was going on here?
Molly’s eyes widened. Harper had set more than one car on fire—not that there was any evidence—but it leant an aura of truth to the threat. It should. Harper would absolutely set the car on fire for far lesser crimes than . A few minutes of this was funny—longer was…irritating. And…seeing as how Molly’s mustang was almost as sexy as Harper’s black charger, Molly darted down the street yelling, “Love like mine can never die.”
Harper had to pause before going back into the store to school her face. If Quinton saw her laughing hysterically, she couldn’t make him squirm as much. She sniffed, wiped a stray tear away, and went back inside. He was straightening his suspenders. The blush in his cheeks stood out against his pale skin. He’d actually paled at Molly and her boobs. Harper grinned, swallowed it, and then cleared he throat. His gaze met hers while he smoothed his long fingers down his chest.
She stared him down, watching as he shifted, gaze darting away from hers.
“Um,” he said. His ears were as red as her hair and he had two matching circles on his cheeks. He looked like a very proper hipster china doll. “I…Harper…you know…I…”
“Listen, Round Eyes,” Harper said meanly. “I know we didn’t choose to get knocked up. That stupid cow, Betty, fertility charmed us on the sly. But dude…if you leave me for someone who can make sugar cookies, I will torture you.”
“I would never leave you,” he said. He crossed to her and actually pulled her into his arms, holding her close to him. She wasn’t sure if it was for protection or because she’d mentioned them not being together, but she appreciated the feel of him pressed against her. She felt a little bit like a life preserver he was clutching her so hard. “I…I don’t understand what’s happening,” he admitted. His gaze turned to the treats and back to her. “I mean…look at all of that.”
“Yeah,” Harper agreed. “Look at it.”
He paused, hearing something in her voice and then touched a finger under her chin. She didn’t get tangled fingers and a kiss on the cheek this time. He took her face between his palms and kissed her senseless.
“I don’t need cookies to love you, Harper Oaken,” he said.
It was moments like these where she had to admit, he was the perfect man. That and he never blinked an eye when she led him up to the roof of the apartment building, lit the patio fire, and snuggled into his arms while they roasted marshmallows and watched the flames. He never blinked an eye when she slept in a circle of candles. Or when she ate plain oatmeal for breakfast on the days she was most stressed out. He never seemed to be in the least bothered when she got so angry, she had to curl into a ball over her knees and curse up a storm. Or beat her fists against a tree until they were bloody.
He’d simply started carrying salve that would make it go away in a few hours, clean her carefully up, and kiss each bandage. He didn’t blink at her Gram who was a vicious, fantastic, crone. He never once minded playing Candy Land with her nieces. The sight of her car’s trunk—filled with an arson and s’mores arsenal—didn’t make him do anything much more than laugh.
And when he’d found out that they’d been fertility charmed by a batty old witch and were going to have a baby, his face had lit up like an old-fashioned Christmas tree, and he’d spun her in a circle. It was Quinton who bought the antique cradle that was now at the end of their bed. He’d bought and restored an old high-chair. But what had made him most fantastic of all was the way, Harper panicked at having a baby, and Quinton held her hand and promised her that he an the baby would love her forever.
He held her hair back while she puked every morning and kept her in ginger suckers, pickles, and the druid tea for morning sickness.
3
“It’s closing time.” His lips were pressed against her forehead and both of them were catching their breath.
“No, it’s four,” she said against his lips. “My shop doesn’t close until 8:00 pm.”
“Oh, it’s closing time.” Quinton flipped the Closed Sign and locked the door to his shop. “This is why you hired Bellamy.”
She blinked and then pressed her face into his chest, breathing him in. She still didn’t understand why he loved her. But he did seem to. He didn’t even seem to care about having to take care of her.
“I…”
There was banging on the door of his shop cutting off her train of thought.
“Quade, Quade,” a high-pitched voice called. “I’ve made you a dark chocolate cheesecake. Come out!”
Harper pulled back from Quinton and looked up at him saying, “You’d think they’d learn your name before they show up.”
His laugh was a little breathless and he called, “No thank you.”
“But it’s made with love,” she yelled back, desperation filling her tone. She banged on the door, shaking the handle. “Quade. Oh my…my…my love! Quade!”
“Is that Gretchen MacAllister?” What the…Harper turned glancing the woman over. She was a 4o-year-old woman and parent of at least 3 kids. Maybe 4?
“Um. I don’t know,” Quinton replied, blushing brilliantly. He looked down at her, plea in his expression as he begged, “Help.”
“What the,” Harper growled. She crossed to the door, yanked it open, and said, “Are you insane?”
“Move aside,” Gretchen shouted, trying to shove at Harper, but she’d put her combat boot covered foot down and blocked the door.
“Do you really think you have chance? You’re married. You’re like…way older than Q.” Harper wasn’t going to give the woman his name. That would ruin all the fun.
“I’ll leave my husband for him,” the woman cried with actual tears rolling down her cheeks. Her eyes were frantic and her fists were white with the intensity of her grip.
“I’ve seen you with your husband,” Harper said, thinking back to the Halloween events around town. “You guys were like…teens. All over each other. It was gross.”
“What does that have to do with it?” The woman gasped, another large crocodile tear making tracks down her face as she said, “I love Quade. So much. I can’t think of anything else. Nothing. Please. Please Quade.”
Harper’s knowing shouted again and she said, “But you love your husband.”
Gretchen looked at Harper, blinking almost drunkenly as if Gretchen couldn’t quite make her eyes focus on anything other than Quinton. “I…well…yes. Of course. He’s my best friend.”
“And you’d leave him for…” Harper jerked her thumb back to Quinton.
“I do anything for Quade,” she gushed, shaking the door
and shouting, “Let me in!”
“You are drugged,” Harper told her. “Go home. Sleep it off.”
The woman laughed meanly and then said, “Sleep. Who can sleep? Who can think or eat or…”
“Oh my,” Harper snarled, cursed, and then said, “You leave right now. You go home to your husband and children and you cling to the fact that you love them.”
Gretchen crying, dropping to her knees and grabbing at Harper. “No. No. Don’t make me go. It hurts. It hurts right here,” Gretchen pounded her chest and Harper sighed.
Harper kicked Gretchen off of her leg and took her by the ear. “He’s mine. You have your love. Get out.”
“Won’t,” Gretchen snarled.
“Will,” Harper said evenly.
“Won’t, won’t, won’t,” Gretchen said. It was Harper who snarled this time. She shoved Gretchen out of the shop and let her collapse on the sidewalk outside. “Won’twon’twon’twon’twon’t!”
Harper growled and Gretchen curled into a ball. From there, helpless crying was Harper’s only answer. She kicked at the woman enough to get her out of the doorway, slammed it, and locked it. Then Harper closed the blinds and dropped the shades.
“What the hell, Q?”
“Um.” He said, his eyes were wide and fixed on where Harper had kicked Gretchen out of the shop. “Save me.”
She glanced at him and laughed.
His eyes narrowed on her, and he crossed to her, taking her by the hand, and yanking her to him. When he had her chest pressed to his, he cupped her face between his palms agains and asked, “You know I didn’t do this right?”
“You don’t even know what you are yet. You obscure flower. How you gonna do a spell like this?”
His eyes glinted at her and he took her breath away again with the slanting of his lips on hers. “I love you, you demented thorn.”
She laughed into neck until he tipped her chin up again and begged, “Please make it stop.”
4
“Gram,” Harper said as she locked the back of the bookshop just before someone started shaking the handle. She sniffed and then said, “Help.”
“Oh goodness,” Quinton moaned, dropping into a chair, and clutching his head. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“That’s for sure,” Harper agreed. She pushed him into his chair and sat in his lap, kissing him gently on the forehead.
“Qually,” someone shouted from outside, banging on the door, “Qually, my love, are you in there?”
“What’s that racket? I can’t hear you if you don’t speak into the phone.”
“Oh, I am,” Harper said. “It’s just love-mad fools are trying to break into Quinton’s bookshop.”
Gran might have actually speechless but…nope. She was just choking on hysterical laughter.
“Explains Amelie,” Gram snorted. Harper could actually hear Gram’s lungs struggling as she laughed harder and harder. “Oh my lands, that does make my day.”
“Gram, you…” Harper had to bite back the slew of curses she wanted to let out in order to get Gram’s help and then what Gram said fully registered. “Amelie?”
“Lex’s baby girl is currently making cookies with your sister and crafting a valentine’s card out of construction paper and glitter. She refused to say who it was for, but she has a bad case of the crazy eyes.”
“Well..” Harper blinked and looked down at her Quinton. His ears were so red they might as well have been candied apples. The giggle hit her so hard she almost lost control of her bladder. The door was shaking relentlessly, her future step-niece was nursing a magic induced crush on her…whatever he was to Harper, he was hers.
“Amelie?” He croaked. “Please no. I can’t…I just…I can’t. Keep her away from me. We’re family.”
“Gram, I need you.” Harper glanced around and said, “The good news is you’ll be able to beat off the wenches who are trying to break into the shop and that just isn’t a joy that happens every day.”
“Too true. I always knew you were my favorite grandchild.”
“Huh. I always bet on Dawn.” She was the farmer cousin who kept the Oaken property profitable. She was just so very…druid.
“Dawn? Why? She’s so boring.”
“Well…she doesn’t light things on fire. And she’s biologically yours. And…”
“Harper Oaken, you better shut your trap right now before you cross a line with me you don’t want to cross.”
The fury in Gram’s voice had Harper immediately responding, “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
“You better be,” Gram snarled.
Harper could hear her trudging out of the bakery which was only two doors down from Quinton’s bookshop. Quinton, the witch Tessa, Harper’s sister, Scarlett, and Harper all shared the building with 4 shops and 4 apartments above. Currently only two apartments were occupied and the other two were in need of renovations.
Harper could hear Gram walking and muttering to herself, but Harper knew better than to comment on anything that Gram was grumbling about. It was an invitation for her to rage, and Harper didn’t really want to hear it.
“Here now. What are you doing?” That last bit wasn’t into the phone and there was a chorus of wailing in reply to Gram’s question and Harper dared to cross to the front of the bookshop and peek out the window. Four women were in front of the shop. Flowy dress, Jessie in the corset top, pink blouse—there was also a school teacher who had to be close to retirement age. They were wailing like cats in heat. Gram snarled at them, and one actually fell to her knees.
“Well, well, Q…you’re bringing them to their knees,” Harper said, turning back to him so she could see his redness escalate. She had to laugh when she saw it had gone from two round circles on his cheek and his ears to the entirety of his face all the way down to his collar.
“Oh heavens,” he moaned. “Oh my.”
Harper cackled as Gran grabbed the school teacher by the ear and shooed her down the road. Harper really had learned from the best. Another went stumbling back as Gram marched forward, finger shaking under her nose. Pink blouse turned and ran as Gram whirled on her. The only one left was Jessie in the corset top. Gram grabbed by the ear and dragged behind her to the door.
“Open up, Harper,” Gram ordered, kicking the door. “Let’s see if I’m affected.”
“Oh no, don’t. I can’t. Not your Gram.”
“She’s messing with you, Quinton,” Harper said, opening the door and hoping that she was right. “No one else had to be around you to show up here with this crap.”
Gram dropped Jessie and crossed to Quinton, sat down in his lap, and leaned into his neck taking a deep breath.
“Get off,” Jessie moaned.
“Oh my….please stop,” Quinton whimpered.
Harper crossed and pulled Gram from Quinton. “He’ll never come to the holiday stuff again if you embarrass him forever. You’re like…violating him, Gram. He’ll stay home and keep the parasite with him.”
“You’re referring to your baby as a parasite?” Gram’s voice was neutral but her head was cocked quizzically. It was a look that both Harper and her sister, Scarlett used often.
“It’s a parasite until I can eat again,” Harper said. “Until then….the baby is a flu.”
“You’re pregnant?” Jessie’s gaze narrowed on Harper. Her eyes were blazing with a madness that might have scared someone who hadn’t lived in group homes. Let alone juvie. When you combined prison with puberty—the results were apocalyptic. “I don’t care. We can still be together, book guy..”
“Gram,” Quinton said, grabbing her hand. “Please help me. Harper loves Lily. She just won’t admit it. And this,” he gestured to Jessie and her corset, “Isn’t helping.”
“That the baby’s name?”
Quinton nodded. Jessie crawled forward and he actually got up on the glass counter, pulling his legs up behind him.
“It could be a boy,” Gram said, grabbing Jessie’s ear. “You have to figure out wh
at he is before you count on the druid tendency towards girls.”
“Qui…” Jessie blinked and Harper realized Jessie had no idea what his name was. Harper laughed as Jessie stumbled and then said, “Lover, I love you.”
“Pretty sure he’s my lover,” Harper told Jessie helpfully. “Given as how I’m infected by him.”
“It’s a girl,” Quinton said. “A little Harper. A sweet and perfect flower. Lily.”
“You’re the flower,” Harper told him seriously. Jessie reached for Quinton’s leg, and he pulled away. He wasn’t weak, but he knew that Harper wouldn’t like someone else touching him that way, and he was too gentlemanly to shove Jessie off. Harper, however, was anything but a lady. “My baby isn’t a flower. She’s like…a tornado. Maybe we can call her Dagger.”
Harper grabbed Jessie’s perfectly sexy hair and held tight as she reached for Quinton.
“Harper’s halfsies,” Gram said, ignoring Jessie. “You’re as likely to have a little boy warlock, like Lex as you are to have a druid girl.”
“Mmmmm,” Harper said. “Please stop. Right now all I have is a bad case of parasites. Why is she here?” Harper pulled Jessie’s hair a little harder. The woman snarled at Harper, trying to dig her nails into Harper’s wrist. Quinton had enough then. He hopped down from the counter, yanked Jessie’s nails from Harper’s wrist, and pulled Jessie away from Harper.
“Enough,” he said firmly in that upper-class accent that reflected his private schooling. “I apologize, ma’am, but I can not allow you to hurt Harper.” He took Jessie by the wrists and yanked her up, holding her tight against his chest. She suddenly stopped fighting not even noticing that he was dragging her to the back of the shop.
Harper followed watching as he set Jessie outside the door, slammed the back door on her before she could throw herself at him again and then locked it. The sound of a body hitting the door followed, and he shuddered, running his hands down his arms and then turning to Harper.
“Hmmmm,” she said, eyebrow raising. “Ma’am was a solid burn.”
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