Autumn Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  “It’s not like I can show up later in the day and force her to see me. She goes back to her home in Maine directly after our sessions are over,” Keaton complained.

  “As soon as you learn to teleport, you can follow her.”

  “Right.” A comfortable silence fell between the brothers as they sipped their coffee.

  “I still dream of her,” he confessed.

  Coop paused with the mug halfway to his mouth. “Autumn?”

  Keaton nodded. “Nearly every night. I’ve never stopped. Not really.”

  The shocked expression on Coop’s face nearly made Keaton laugh.

  “Nine years is a long time. Maybe you should talk to a therapist,” Coop suggested, not unkindly.

  “You don’t think it’s normal?”

  “No, I don’t. Especially not almost every night. That seems like an unhealthy obsession.”

  “Yeah. Maybe you’re right. I—”

  The woman in question sailed through the door.

  Keaton’s breath halted in his chest.

  She was stunning. With her dancing eyes and a simple flick of her auburn hair, Autumn challenged the world at every turn. Added to her sparkling wit was a tall, magnificent body with the kind of curves to make grown men beg. And she held the power to make his palms itch with the desire to touch her.

  Yes, he definitely still held an unhealthy obsession for her.

  As he watched, she flirted with Old Man Harkins from the hardware store. She caught the old pervert’s hand before it reached her ass. With a wave of one finger and a kiss on his weathered cheek, she set Harkins straight. The old curmudgeon actually blushed.

  Keaton couldn’t blame the guy. Autumn had that effect on men—young and elderly alike. She’d certainly had the same effect on him. Perhaps that was why he had believed she’d bewitched him in the literal sense of the word. He’d been unable to think of anything but her. Whatever Autumn wanted, he would’ve killed to provide for her. Thank God—er, the Goddess—that she never knew the power she possessed back then. Because if she had, she’d have owned the world by now.

  Their eyes connected in the mirror behind the counter. Her teasing air disappeared, and she averted her gaze.

  That had been her reaction over the last nine and a half years. It was as if it hurt her to look at him. He knew because it hurt him to look at her. Or maybe she only viewed him with disgust, and he was projecting his feelings on her.

  “Daddy!”

  Keaton’s attention was torn away from Autumn at the sound of his daughter’s exuberant voice. He rose and lifted her into his arms as she reached their table. “Hey, midget! Ugh, you’re getting heavy. I swear you’ve grown an inch since I saw you last,” he teased.

  Father and daughter stared at one another, matching grins took up half their face.

  Their moment was shattered by the arrival of Diane. “Do you want to tell him what you did, or shall I?” Her scowl telegraphed her displeasure.

  Keaton wasn’t surprised. His ex-wife was always pissed about one thing or another. Mostly at him, but her anger always seemed to be directed at poor Chloe of late.

  “I got into mother’s makeup,” Chloe whispered tearfully.

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Keaton said, giving his daughter an extra-tight squeeze then setting her on her feet on the booth seat.

  “Do you know how much that makeup kit cost, Keaton?” Diane’s voice climbed to shrill, and heads turned in their direction—Autumn’s included.

  Keaton tugged at his already open collar. Why did it feel like a noose was tightening around his neck every damned time he spoke to Diane?

  He exhaled loudly. “Just let me know how much it costs, Diane. I’ll see it is replaced.”

  “You should be grateful you have a daughter who wants to share in girly things with you,” an arctic voice inserted.

  Keaton’s gaze shifted to Autumn, and he gave a subtle shake of his head.

  “Well, if it isn’t the homewrecker,” Diane jeered.

  His eyes closed, and he counted to ten. Same tune, different day. Diane had never gotten over her jealousy of Autumn.

  Autumn’s amused laughter snapped his eyes open. “Homewrecker? That would imply I had an affair with your ex-husband while you were married, Diane.” Autumn sidled up to Keaton and ran a hand up his chest. The Devil danced in her eyes.

  This wasn’t going to be good.

  She hooked a hand around his neck and drew his head down to hers.

  Or maybe it was.

  When their lips connected, he heard gasps echo throughout the restaurant. Oh, the curse of small-town living.

  He didn’t care. The warm softness of Autumn’s mouth on his was heaven once more. He became lost in the kiss, his tongue tangoing with hers. The dance, erotic and full of passion. He hadn’t been aware of his right arm encircling her waist or of his left hand burrowing into her thick hair to keep her close until she drew back. He mourned the loss.

  “Keaton and I never carried on while you were married. He’s too honorable for that,” Autumn directed to Diane while her eyes remained fixed on him. She sent him a saucy wink and faced his ex. “But now…” She gave a delicate shrug. “Anyway, like I said, you should be grateful for such an amazing daughter who wants to spend time with you. Those moments are gone before you know it.”

  Without a by-your-leave, she sashayed across the room, scooped up her bag of food from the counter, and breezed out the door in the exact carefree manner in which she arrived.

  Seconds ticked by before anyone stirred or removed their focus from the closed door. As one, the patrons turned their gazes back to him.

  He grinned, unable to help himself. He’d say one thing for the woman; Autumn sure knew how to make an exit.

  Autumn climbed behind the wheel of her jeep and rested her shaking hands on the steering wheel. What the hell had she done? She kissed Keaton! Without thought to consequences, she’d jerked his head down to hers and laid one on him. Right there for all of Podunkville to see.

  Their mutual passion hadn’t died. It was oh-so-much better than she remembered. So good, in fact, that it would make for an awkward morning when he showed for training today and would probably give her a great many sleepless nights, too.

  With a grimace, Autumn started the engine. She’d stirred up a hornet’s nest. If she had a brain in her head, she’d park the jeep at her family’s estate and pop back home to Maine, never to return.

  But the kiss had been worth it to shut up that twat-waffle, Diane. The sanctimonious bitch had it coming. Oh, she preached a good game and made sure to appear every Sunday as the upstanding Christian, decorating the first pew with her prayer book in hand. Yet secretly, Diane was boinking the married pastor in his private office on Sunday afternoons while the guy’s poor, unsuspecting wife fed the homeless at a Nashville mission.

  Autumn prayed to the Goddess that the pastor’s wife would catch those two in the act. She’d even thought about helping the discovery along with a little magic. Ultimately, she’d decided against it. Things had a way of working out. That skank would get hers.

  Not for the first time, Autumn wondered if Diane had ever truly been her friend. In school, the two girls had been besties. Autumn had never suspected the deep jealousy and ill-will Diane had harbored toward her. The morning after Keaton had broken her heart, Autumn finally understood just how much. The triumph was as plain as day on Diane’s face when Autumn had walked into Keaton’s room and found the two of them in bed together.

  She lost two people that day: Keaton and Diane. But then, she wondered if she’d ever truly had either of them, if they ever truly cared about her. Perhaps that was why she found it difficult to befriend anyone now.

  Oddly enough, her misplaced affection for them was what made her kind to Chloe. In Keaton and Diane’s child, she saw the ghost of Autumn’s young, innocent self. A girl who wanted love and friendship.

  Time would change the child. It would make her cynical and hard, but Autum
n didn’t need to be mean and contribute to the eventual realization that the world was a shithole filled with people ready to stab you in the back. No, she would help preserve innocence at every opportunity.

  As she pulled into the driveway of Thorne Manor, she noticed Summer in a heated discussion with Alastair. A grimace of distaste tugged at the corners of her mouth before Autumn could school her features.

  He barely spared her a glance, but she sensed he missed nothing.

  “Uncle Alastair,” she drawled with false cheer as she exited her jeep. “To what do we owe this unwelcome visit.”

  Tension lined his shoulders and compressed his mouth into a thin line. “Your mother doesn’t have much longer. I need the Chintamani Stone recovered.”

  Emotion clawed the back of her throat and made it difficult to swallow.

  Mother.

  Over the last few weeks, Autumn had tried not to think of her mom wasting away in stasis. Because when she did, rage—along with a major sense of betrayal—rocked her.

  Her mother, Aurora, hadn’t died twenty years ago like they were all led to believe. She’d taken off with Alastair Thorne to raise a secret child—Summer’s twin. Five years later, some mysterious event took place that injured Aurora Fennell-Thorne and left her in a supernatural coma, neither living nor dead.

  All this time wasted, and all the lies told. Autumn shook her head in disgust.

  “I told you, when we get a better handle on its location, we’ll retrieve it,” Summer said. “Until then, I’m not going to the farthest reaches of the world on a wild goose chase just to please you, Alastair.”

  “You stubborn little fool!” he snapped. “This is your mother’s life we are talking about.”

  “You aren’t gaining brownie points by being an asshole, Uncle,” Autumn warned, joining hands with Summer in a show of unity.

  Frustration was written all over his countenance. “How do I get through to you? She’s fading. If we don’t act soon, she’ll be lost to us forever.”

  The “us” stuck in Autumn’s gullet. She didn’t want her mother to wake only to abandon them for Alastair again. The thought was petty, but there, taking up space in her head and heart, nonetheless.

  Summer, the softer and more compassionate of the two of them, dropped Autumn’s hand and reached for Alastair’s. “I’m working on it, Father. You have to trust that I’m doing my best.”

  Blue eyes, darker but identical in shape to Summer’s, studied his daughter for a long moment. Finally, he nodded and squeezed Summer’s hand, then he faced Autumn. “I’ll give you a piece of advice, niece. Don’t get in my way on this. Any affection I hold for your mother or sister won’t soften my punishment should you double-cross me.”

  Autumn scoffed. “What could you possibly do to me?”

  Coop’s cruiser pulled into the drive and caught the attention of the three Thornes.

  Keaton, Coop, and Chloe had arrived for the morning training session. Alastair watched them exit the vehicle before he turned back to her. His slow smile, laced with an edge of menace, made her stomach flip over. In an effort to appear unaffected, she slipped her standard icy mask in place.

  “I think there is quite a lot I could do to you, my dear girl. You like to believe you are tough. Yet I wonder, should something happen to the man you love, something that you might have prevented, would you remain so sure of yourself?”

  She lunged.

  But Alastair was quick to throw up an invisible barrier between them.

  Crashing into it wasn’t at all fun, but she did no more than grunt.

  “I’ll see you in hell before I let you hurt an innocent, Alastair. You see if I don’t,” she promised.

  “I want that stone,” he said ominously.

  In the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving two very shaken sisters in his wake.

  Across the distance, she met Keaton’s concerned gaze. Uncaring mask firmly back in place, she pivoted on her heel and headed into the house.

  Chapter 4

  “What was that about?”

  Because she suspected he’d follow her, Autumn wasn’t surprised by Keaton’s immediate appearance in the kitchen.

  “Nothing you need concern yourself with,” she said coldly as she tossed the bag of food on the counter and reached for a plate.

  “Autumn, look at me.”

  She stopped, set the plate on the counter, and faced him.

  “What’s going on? Who is that man, and why did you go after him?”

  “That was my dear Uncle Alastair. He’s come up with a magical item for Summer to retrieve, and he’s irritated she hasn’t complied with his demands as of yet.”

  “Why does he want it?”

  “Why, to bring my mother back to life,” she said with mock cheerfulness. “I’m surprised Coop hasn’t informed you of all this by now.”

  “He didn’t.” Keaton came farther into the room and stopped a foot from her. “After all this time? Your mother? Is bringing someone back to life actually possible?”

  She released a weary sigh and looked out over the yard. “I don’t know. But it might be possible for someone in stasis like my mom.”

  His large, warm palm settled on her lower back.

  She told herself she shouldn’t find comfort in the touch, that she was a fool to open up that particular can of worms. But his touch had always had a power all its own.

  “What is stasis?”

  “When someone is in the state between life and death, similar to a coma, but without the feeding tubes or respirators to sustain them. They are in a sleeping state but can’t wake or die.”

  “Jesus! What do the doctors say?”

  “Witch doctors you mean?”

  His eyes widened, and she laughed in genuine amusement. He obviously didn’t find her as funny as she found herself.

  Autumn took pity on him and said, “Mother isn’t in any hospital, Keaton. She’s at Alastair’s mansion in North Carolina. Summer’s actually been to see her so we know he’s not lying about that at least.”

  “How? I thought your mother died like twenty years ago or more.”

  “We did, too.” She gave her standard shrug and went back to compiling a plate of the best biscuits and gravy Tennessee had to offer. “Apparently, we were misinformed.”

  “You didn’t answer my original question. Why did you go after him?”

  “Leave it alone, Keaton. It’s really none of your business.”

  He took the plate of food from in front of her and held it aloft. “Somehow, I got the impression it was. Start talking.”

  “You do realize I can snap my fingers and have my plate back, right?” she asked dryly.

  “You take all the fun out of being taller than you,” he said and handed her the dish. “What he said, did it have something to do with me and Chloe?”

  She stared, mesmerized by his intense gaze. Once upon a time, she would’ve thought the concerned expression was for her, now she knew it was only for himself and his daughter. Keaton had an innate sense of self-preservation, and on a subconscious level, he recognized Alastair’s power.

  “Yes. He likes to throw threats around, believing we will all fall in line. If I can help it, I won’t let him hurt her.”

  Keaton stilled. “He’d hurt a child?”

  “I don’t think, when it boils down to it, he would. But I can’t be certain.” Autumn set her plate on the table and crossed to the silverware drawer. She busied herself with selecting utensils. “I lost my ability to read people a long time ago.”

  “Because of me.” The grimness in his voice was unmistakable.

  “Maybe, but only in part. I was too trusting back then.” She sighed and poured herself a cup of tea then added a spoonful of sugar. “None of it matters and life goes on. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to eat my breakfast before it congeals into a disgusting blob.”

  He nodded to the full pot of coffee in the brewer. “Do you mind?”

  “If you must.”

&
nbsp; “Wow. I’d think you’d be a little nicer to me after exploring my tonsils less than a half hour ago. I feel so used and cheap.”

  She snorted the tea up and out her nose.

  Without missing a beat, he tossed her the dish towel. “You okay, babe?”

  Her glare said it all—as did his grin.

  “If you keep it up, I’ll let Alastair follow through on his threat to off you,” she snapped. She froze when she realized her mistake. Crap!

  His eyes went wide then sharpened on her flushed face. “He didn’t threaten Chloe.”

  In an attempt to appear casual, she dumped sugar into her tea and stirred. When she took a sip, she gagged. How much damned sugar had she added?

  “Four tablespoons,” he said with a smirk. “Someone a little distracted?”

  “Piss off.” She rose and dumped the tea in the sink, disconcerted he’d read her mind. When Autumn turned around, Keaton blocked her path.

  “Okay, just so I have this straight. Dear old Uncle Alastair threatened my life—not Chloe’s—to manipulate you, and you were going to rip his head from his shoulders had he not thrown up some invisible force field when he did. Is that about right?”

  She crossed her arms under her breasts and refused to answer.

  “Why would his threat upset you unless you still care?”

  “Perhaps it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me not wanting to be manipulated. Did you ever think of that?”

  Keaton shifted closer and invaded her space.

  Autumn took a step back and held up her hands. “Back off, Keaton. I don’t like being crowded.”

  “I’m not crowding you. I’m kissing you,” he murmured against her mouth.

  Whatever resistance she might’ve imagined she possessed melted the second she breathed in his unique scent. She was mush in the face of his sexual onslaught.

  “Aww, hell,” she muttered and threaded her hands through his thick dark hair to tug him closer.