Over Hexed: The Hex Series

by Thompson, Vicki Lewis

  Over Hexed

  The Hex Series

  Vicki Lewis Thompson

  OVER HEXED

  Copyright © 2007 by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  ISBN: 978-1-946759-68-9

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Ocean Dance Press, PO Box 69901, Oro Valley AZ 85737

  First published October 2007 by Penguin

  Cover art by Kristin Bryant

  Visit the author’s website: VickiLewisThompson.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  But Wait, There’s More!

  Also by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  About the Author

  Prologue

  “For the crime of causing irreparable sexual mischief through magic, I hereby banish the defendants, Dorcas and Ambrose Lowell, to Big Knob, Indiana, until such time as they straighten out the dragon living there. So mote it be.”

  Dorcas lifted her head and looked at Cyril, the white-robed wizard who was about to ruin her life. “Cyril, are we talking about that dragon named George?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “But they say he has ADD!”

  Cyril gazed down at her. “There’s no medical evidence of that.”

  “Whatever. Nobody’s been able to do a thing with George. We’ll be stuck in that hick town, and you know it.”

  Ambrose nudged her. Defendants weren’t supposed to speak during sentencing, let alone carry on a debate with the Grand High Wizard.

  “But it’s not fair,” she muttered to her husband.

  “Just accept it,” he murmured. “Or it might get worse.”

  She didn’t see how. And they hadn’t screwed up that badly. For some reason, Cyril was trying to make an example of them, probably because the plaintiff, Thaddeus Hedgehump, was his brother-in-law.

  Cyril gave her a stern look. “You’re in no position to complain, Dorcas. Thanks to your untested potion, the plaintiff becomes aroused by any woman wearing support hose, not just his wife, as he requested. Restitution must be made.”

  “At least he can get it up, now!” Dorcas felt completely unappreciated. “Before we came along he was limp as a—”

  Ambrose nudged her again, harder this time. “We understand, Your Honor.”

  “Good. Your belongings have been loaded onto a moving van, and the bailiff has your tickets for Indianapolis. We’ve arranged for a driver to take you from Indianapolis to Big Knob.”

  “What about Sabrina?” Dorcas wasn’t going anywhere without her cat.

  “Sabrina will travel with you on the plane. When you have something to report regarding George, you know where to find me. Court adjourned.” With a sharp rap of his jewel-encrusted gavel, Cyril ended the trial.

  Chapter One

  “I’m looking for an old-fashioned screw.” Sean Madigan knew he’d messed up as soon as the words were out.

  Heather, the blonde morning clerk at Big Knob Hardware and Camping Supplies, swooped into his personal space. “I can help you with that.” Her double D’s brushed the front of his leather jacket.

  Sean stepped back and cleared his throat. Better to pretend he didn’t know what she was thinking. “It’s longer than normal.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  Sheesh, he couldn’t seem to say anything right. “About this length.” He held his thumb and forefinger approximately five inches apart.

  “Sean, don’t underestimate yourself. According to the grapevine, it’s much longer.” As Heather moved in again, her perfume hit him like a blast of mace. “No one’s here but me. And forget the old-fashioned part, hon. Ever done it on Astroturf? Or cork?”

  “No.” Sean backed up some more and found himself trapped against the reels of ropes and chains. “Seriously, Heather, I’m not interested. I came in here for–”

  “Baby, you work too hard, always wearing that sexy tool belt, always hammering something.” Her blue eyes burned with lust. “I’d love to get nailed.”

  “We’re in the middle of the hardware store.”

  “I know. Think of the possibilities. How about a little bondage action? I can tie you or you can tie me. Whichever turns you on.”

  He could tell her that nothing turned him on these days, but she wouldn’t believe him. Nobody would. Women craved him and guys envied him. They had no clue the hell he endured with the catcalls, the groping, the leers.

  It had been like this since puberty. In Big Knob, Indiana, Pop. 947, single guys were at a premium to begin with, so a green-eyed Irishman who looked like Sean could name his price.

  As a teenager he’d loved the attention. Nonstop boinking was perfect when you were eighteen. Ten years later, he could have any available woman in town and probably a few who weren’t, but they were too aggressive, too pushy, too horny.

  At the moment all he cared about was finishing the renovation of Calvin Gilmore’s house. Once Calvin paid him for that, Sean would have almost enough to make a down payment on his childhood home. One more job and he’d be ready to buy the dilapidated old Victorian and the acreage that surrounded it, assuming he could locate the owner.

  “They say you’re saving yourself for someone special, someone who’ll keep you warm in that big old house you have your eye on.” Heather moistened her lips. “Well, here I am, sugar.” Without warning she grabbed the zipper on his fly and yanked.

  Sean caught her wrist before she could fondle his privates. “I said no.” He hated to push a woman, but she gave him no choice. Shoving her aside, he left the hardware store, zipping his fly as he went.

  “You’re such a tease, Sean Madigan,” she called after him. “But you don’t fool me. Those bedroom eyes say you want me, baby. You want me bad!”

  Bedroom eyes. He’d been accused of having bedroom eyes for years, and he’d never figured out what the hell that meant.

  Once safely outside the hardware store, he turned up his coat collar against the biting wind and glanced at the town’s most obvious landmark, a chunk of granite that jutted a hundred and ninety-two feet into the wintry sky. Rising from the forest on the northeast side of town, the prominent rock dominated the landscape. No wonder it had inspired the pioneers to name this place Big Knob.

  Southwest of town nestled Deep Lake, also named by the pioneers. In the early eighteen hundreds, sexual symbolism hadn’t been an appropriate topic of conversation. In some Big Knob households it still wasn’t.

  But late at night while enjoying a beer in the Big Knobian, some guys liked to speculate that if Big Knob ever buried itself in Deep Lake, the end of the world was at hand. Sean had always
wondered if the combination of Big Knob and Deep Lake had a subconscious effect on the people in town, increasing their focus on sex.

  Personally, he could testify that the women seemed quite focused on that topic, and they concentrated the bulk of their sexual interest on Sean. He would give anything to be less of a target.

  Like for instance, instead of feeling compelled to jump in his old truck and leave, he’d love to grab a cup of coffee at the Hob Knob Diner. He’d appreciate the caffeine jolt if he could manage to order without being waylaid.

  No such luck. Francine Edgerton, owner of the Bob and Weave Hair Salon, came bouncing toward him, her multi-colored hair dancing in the breeze. “Sean, you cutie patootie. Let me buy you a cuppa, cuppa, hubba, hubba.” She closed one eye in a suggestive wink.

  “Thanks, Francine, but I can’t. I’m on my way back to the Gilmores’. Job’s almost done, and I–”

  “Don’t be silly.” She hooked her arm through his and tugged him in the direction of the diner. “Come play footsie with me under the table.”

  “Why, if it isn’t Sean Madigan.” A low female voice sounded in his left ear.

  He turned. “Hi, Bet.”

  “Hi, yourself.” She fluffed her bottle-red hair and batted her fake eyelashes. Then she pinched his butt.

  “Hey!”

  “Hey, yourself.” She laughed as she grabbed his other arm. “Come on, Francine. Let’s share him.”

  Francine blew out an impatient breath. “Look, Bet, I realize you’re a good customer and all, but I saw him first.”

  Sean held his ground. “As I keep saying, I don’t have time for coffee.” But how to escape? Aha. Dorcas and Ambrose Lowell, the new couple in town, were walking in this direction.

  From his first glimpse of them when they’d moved into the old Harrison place six weeks ago, Sean had wondered why they’d picked Big Knob. It was a nice enough town, all the lecherous women aside, but it wasn’t the sort of location where you’d expect to find an attractive and fit middle-aged couple who looked like they’d stepped out of a Ralph Lauren commercial.

  Today they both wore belted leather jackets and designer jeans. Sean pictured them sailing a yacht along Martha’s Vineyard or strolling the wharf in San Francisco. Yet here they were in Big Knob.

  Beside him, Francine stiffened. “Dorcas goes out of town for her hair,” she muttered. “Too good for the Bob and Weave.”

  “She says she does it herself,” Bet said. “His, too.”

  “Yeah, and I’m Angelina Jolie. Nobody gets that natural brunette look from over-the-counter kits.”

  Sean made use of the distraction to yank his arms free. “Excuse me,” he said to Francine and Bet. “I need to discuss something with the Lowells.” Then he said the first thing that came to mind. “They have a problem with their porch.”

  He had no idea if their porch needed work or not. But the house was close to the lake, which meant it was subject to damp fog most evenings. The porch might need work.

  Both Francine and Bet backed off, because even they wouldn’t stand in the way of a business opportunity, especially if the potential customers looked rich.

  “I’ll see you later, then,” Francine said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, which leaves you plenty of room to maneuver.”

  “Francine, you’re scaring the poor boy,” Bet said. “Listen, Sean, I’ll be up late tonight if you want to stop by. I make a great hot toddy.”

  Sean gave them each a wave and jogged down the sidewalk toward Dorcas and Ambrose. “I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to discuss your front porch.”

  “You did?” Ambrose looked amused.

  “Is this really about the porch?” Dorcas smiled at him. “Or is it that you need rescuing?”

  “A little of both. Listen, I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever you were doing, but–”

  “Coincidentally, we were on our way to the hardware store,” Ambrose said. “You must be psychic, because we just noticed a couple of loose boards on the front porch and some warping going on. I wanted to fix that before the first snow.”

  “Seriously?” This was kind of freaky.

  “Seriously,” Dorcas said and turned to her husband. “Unless you have your heart set on home repair, what do you say we hire Sean to do it for us?”

  “Works for me. Let’s take him back to our place so he can check out the job.” Ambrose glanced at Sean. “Unless you have something else to do right now?”

  “Nothing that can’t wait.” Sean had left his old truck parked in front of the hardware store, but he’d walk back and get it later, sometime when Heather was busy with a customer and wouldn’t notice him.

  “Then let’s go.” Ambrose turned back, taking Dorcas’s hand as they started down the street.

  The sidewalk was only wide enough for two, so Sean followed behind. Holding hands in public was another thing that made the Lowells stand out from your average Big Knobian. Someone had even seen them French kissing in broad daylight. They acted like teenagers, which many in the town thought ridiculous for a couple in their fifties.

  The Harrison place, or what was now the Lowell’s place, was at the far end of Fifth Street. The town’s first residents, Ebenezer and Isadora Mather, had laid out the town’s main streets in the shape of a five-pointed star. Legend had it that Ebenezer had intended the layout as a tribute to Isadora, his guiding star.

  Because of the shape created by these five streets, Big Knob boasted a town square with one extra side. Everyone still called it a square, even though it wasn’t. Businesses lined the square, and a five-sided gazebo in the middle was flanked by a life-sized statue of Isadora, a true heroine who had selflessly nursed the pioneers through a bout of smallpox.

  “Hey, Sean!” Denise Woolrich ran coatless out of the Big Knob Realty office on the corner of Fifth and Third. “I think I’ve tracked down the owner of your family’s old property!”

  “Are you sure?” Sean had his doubts. He thought Denise might be drawing out the title search so she had a better chance of seducing him.

  “This is it. I can feel it. Oh, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Lowell.”

  “Hello, Denise.” Dorcas gave her the once-over.

  Sean could imagine what a classy woman like Dorcas was thinking as she looked at Denise. Her red sweater was so tight it was in danger of unraveling any minute.

  Eyes bright, Denise stepped in close and moistened her lips as she gazed up at him. “You need to come into my office, Sean.”

  He figured it was just another excuse to get him alone. “Couldn’t you just tell me here?”

  “I want to show you what I’ve found on the Internet.” She lifted her dark hair from her neck as if dealing with a heat wave, despite the chill wind blowing across the square. The movement made her breasts quiver.

  Instead of getting him hot, her behavior only annoyed him. “I’ll come by a little later, okay?”

  Denise pouted. “I thought you cared about this property, Sean. If you don’t want me to track down the title holder for you, just say so.”

  As Sean was trying to decide how best to handle Denise, he heard a low whistle and a woman calling his name. He noticed a silver SUV gliding by with the window down and recognized Angie, an ex-girlfriend, behind the wheel. Not wanting to be rude, he waved at her.

  “Sean, I’m trying to talk to you about this property.” Denise sounded irritated.

  He glanced back at her. “I do care about the property. But I’m kind of busy right this minute.”

  “If you’re too busy to look at what I’ve found for you, then obviously your priorities have changed.” Denise turned on her heel.

  “I swear, they haven’t.” But it was too late. Denise had stomped back into her office.

  Sean needed her help, so he’d have to go by later and soothe her ruffled feathers while trying to avoid ending up naked on her desktop.

  He glanced over at Dorcas and Ambrose. “Sorry about that. Let’s go.”

  They’d taken about three step
s when another female voice brought him to a reluctant halt.

  “Well, if it isn’t Sean Madigan!” Candice, a woman he’d dated two years ago, came running across the square, plastic grocery bags in both hands, her short plaid skirt hiking up to reveal a shocking amount of creamy thigh.

  Looking neither left nor right, she crossed the street, all her attention focused on Sean. Fortunately there wasn’t much traffic. “What a coincidence! I just bought a package of those little cakes you like, the ones with the cream filling.”

  He panicked. Those little cakes had been part of some hot times. “That was quite a while ago,” he said.

  “Funny, it seems like only yesterday to me. We had such fun with those cakes, eating them in bed. Remember how I smeared them on your—”

  “Gotta go!” Sean motioned to Ambrose and Dorcas as he took off down the street toward their house. “Emergency porch repair! Very critical!”

  Within half a block, Dorcas and Ambrose had caught up with Sean, and they weren’t even breathing hard. He couldn’t help commenting on it. “You guys are in great shape for your…” He stopped short of saying age, which sounded insulting. “For your size.”

  “And age,” Dorcas said with a wink as they reached the house and she climbed the porch steps. “It’s okay. Our secret is great sex.”

  Sean hadn’t meant to let his jaw drop, and he snapped it closed the second he realized what he’d done. “That’s terrific,” he said quickly as they ushered him inside. The house smelled of incense, which confirmed his suspicion that they were from out West somewhere, probably California.