Cloudy with a Chance of Witchcraft: A Paranormal Women’s Fiction Romance Novel

by Roth, Mandy M.

  “I’d be happy to model for you behind closed doors, Legs,” said Jeffrey.

  “I’m sure you would. Kindly move along. We have some chiseling to do on Poppy’s face,” said Dana.

  It was then Jeffrey noticed me. His eyes widened. “What in the hell is all over you? Why does it look like you stuck your face in mud and let it harden?”

  “Not far off,” said Dana, pulling him out of the way.

  I moved past them both. “I’ve got this.”

  Dana shrugged as I vanished into the bathroom to begin the fun process of trying to get my face mask scrubbed off without any hot water. It was even harder than I thought it was going to be but I finally managed. I was left with a face that looked as though I’d taken a brillo pad to it for about thirty minutes, and I had to wonder if I’d be left with road rash on my cheeks and forehead from the obscene amount of scrubbing I did, but it was finally gone.

  By the time I came out of the room, Dana and Jeffrey were gone.

  The hallway used to feel so welcoming when I was younger. Now it felt very long, very dark, and very scary. As much as I wanted to put on a brave face, the truth was, all the talk of ghosts and dark energy still had me scared to be alone.

  I knew I was being a big chicken but the urge to run like a child to my room, slam the door, and jump under the covers to hide was great. Not sure how I resisted.

  I nearly gave in to the desire to do just that when the hall suddenly filled with the scent of my grandfather’s aftershave. I remembered it instantly and it made me think of him—of the happy times I’d had with him. Of how safe he’d always made me feel.

  Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and it helped to calm my frazzled nerves and relax me enough to walk casually back in the direction of the master bedroom. The hallway felt less oppressive, less intimidating, and more like the old days.

  I made it back to the room, feeling lighter.

  I went right to bed and climbed in, feeling the weight of the day come crashing down on me. Exhaustion won out and I was asleep before I even knew it.

  Nineteen

  Poppy

  Stirring in the bed, I opened my eyes from a deep sleep and needed a moment to adjust to being awake. For a second, I thought I had drunk too much at dinner, only to remember I’d not even finished one beer before I’d moved to water.

  I fumbled with one hand, feeling around in the dark for the bedside table. When I found it, I ran my hand over it on a hunt for my phone. Once I had it, I woke it to see the time—and did a double take. It was just before midnight. That meant I’d been asleep just under two hours, at most since I’d managed to get my face clean of the charcoal mask.

  I was the type of person who needed six hours of sleep. Too much and I was overly tired throughout the day, and too little made me crabby. Two hours wasn’t going to cut it, and I couldn’t figure out why I was awake again.

  I set my phone aside once more and lay on my back, staring up into the darkness, hoping I wouldn’t struggle to fall back asleep.

  As I lay there a while longer, it hit me that it was probably just after midnight now. That meant I was officially forty years old. I was now a card-carrying member of the middle-aged club. I didn’t feel middle-aged. Was I supposed to wake up and magikally have creaky joints, hot flashes, and more stray white hairs?

  I sure in the hell hoped not.

  A small snort came from me. When I’d thought about what my life at forty would be, it never included being recently divorced and starting over in my grandparents’ old home. And while some might pity me, I was truly happy for the first time in a long time.

  Forty would mark the start of a new me.

  And I was proud of myself for making the huge move and for deciding to live life on my terms. Plus, I was pleased that I’d put Thomas in his place earlier in the evening. Maybe if I’d have been more vocal throughout my adult life and demanded the respect I deserved, things would have been different. Then again, maybe not. All I knew for sure was that I was where I was supposed to be.

  Back in Grimm Cove.

  It felt right.

  And having Brett in the house felt right too. Of course, having him sharing a bed with me would have felt a whole lot better. While I was feeling a bit wild and free, I hadn’t quite taken the bull by the horns fully. After applying salve to his knee, I’d basically run for my room like a giant coward. I hoped to change that soon.

  I didn’t want to have regrets.

  I had enough already.

  Unable to fall back to sleep, I tossed the covers off and lay there a moment more before sitting up in the bed and putting my bare feet on the cool wood floor. A shiver raced through me, and I hugged myself, wondering if a thin nightgown had been the right choice after all. Since the house didn’t have central air but was built to circulate cooler air on its own, I thought it might get too warm overnight. But the temperature had dropped as rain had moved into the area.

  Lightning flashed outside and the bedroom window went up fast, all on its own, making a gust of wind and rain come bursting in. It caught me off guard, and I practically leapt off the bed as the smallest of yelps came from me. I clutched my chest, taking a moment to gather hold of myself. A little part of me had thought it was some evil entity that was going to come rattling its chains, scaring the crap out of me.

  It’s just the storm against the old house. Point one for the storm. Relax.

  Just then, the bedroom door flung open, making me yelp again. In that moment, I was darn happy Marcy had gotten me those weights for my lady bits, or I was fairly sure I’d have wet myself a little. Okay, a lot.

  “Poppy,” said Brett quickly, his hand on the doorknob, his bare upper body heaving, as if he were on high alert. The dark gray boxer briefs he wore did nothing to cover what he came equipped with, and I wasn’t sure what shocked me more—him busting into the room unannounced, or what he’d been smuggling under his jeans.

  Sure, I’d seen him naked for a hot second twenty years ago, but that had all been a blur of hormones and emotions. I’d been so swept up and nervous the last time I’d seen him in the buff, since it was my first time with a man in that way that I’d been unable to really stop and enjoy the show.

  Now, with twenty additional years under my belt, I was tempted to take a seat and simply soak in the sight of him.

  Men really looked like that?

  Sure, Thomas had been in good shape. He ran daily and worked out three times a week at the gym, but he didn’t look like this.

  Brett was downright mouthwatering.

  “Poppy-seed, what happened?” he asked, coming into the room fast and looking around as if he could see perfectly clearly with nothing more than the flashing light from the storm outside.

  Impressive.

  He went to the window, fought with the blowing white curtains, and then pushed it down, getting wet in the process. He then faced me. “I heard you make a noise that sounded like you were scared.”

  I realized I was still clutching my chest as if waiting for the big one. I lowered my hands. “I’m okay. The window blew open. It startled me. I think all the talk of ghosts and evil has me a little spooked.”

  He stayed near the window and tipped his head, as if listening to something I couldn’t hear. His entire body tensed and the faintest of low growls came from him, much like what had happened when we’d been kissing in the kitchen.

  “Brett?”

  He didn’t face me but did tip his head more. “Stay here. Lock the bedroom door behind me.”

  I ran across the room and grabbed his hand in mine.

  He tried to turn his face away from me but I reached up without thought, touching his scruffy cheek.

  “Brett, look at me. What’s wrong?”

  His jaw set. “P-Poppy, please. I smell something outside. It’s not right—not natural. It smells like maple syrup, but that’s not quite it. Not right. I’ve smelled it before and what it left in its wake was destruction.”

  A small laugh cam
e from me, and I tried again to get him to look at me. “What are you talking about? It’s storming out there. No one can smell anything right now except for rain. And what do you mean by not natural? I let you talk me into the whole Grandpa might be haunting the place and evil might be here and I smudged and did a cleansing. I draw the line at you having superhuman sniffer abilities.”

  He didn’t respond—and he didn’t face me.

  “W-why won’t you look at me?” I asked.

  His entire body tensed more. “Because I don’t want to scare you, and I can’t control it right now. I can smell that you want me, and I want you too. And I can sense something outside—something that shouldn’t be there, Poppy. I have to hunt it. I have to keep you safe. I can’t let it hurt you like it has the others.”

  He wasn’t making any sense.

  “Brett,” I said, my hand still on his cheek.

  “Poppy, please. I can’t look at you right now. It will scare the hell out of you, and I love you too much to have you be terrified of me.”

  I sucked in a huge breath at his proclamation of love but didn’t back down. Instead, I slipped in front of him fast before he could turn more.

  It was then I saw his eyes.

  I shouldn’t have been able to see them very well at all with as low as the light was in the room, but there they were, clear as day—glowing yellow.

  Fear for him slammed through me, and I launched myself at him. “Oh God, Brett!”

  He caught my wrists and closed his eyes, holding me against his frame. He tipped his head back, the cords in his neck popping as he did. “Dammit. I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want you scared of me.”

  “Scared of you? I’m scared for you,” I said, my voice rising.

  He peeked out of one eye at me. His eyes, while still glowing with yellow, weren’t as vibrant as they had been. “You’re not scared of me?”

  I had to pry my wrists free from his grasp to cup his face fully once more. I forced him to look down at me.

  He did.

  “Are you okay? Does that hurt? Whatever is happening to your eyes?” I asked.

  He chuckled nervously. “No, Poppy-seed. It doesn’t hurt.”

  “W-what is happening to them?”

  He sighed. “I didn’t want you to find out this way. I wanted to tell you the truth, and I planned to, but I wasn’t sure how just yet.”

  “Brett?”

  He bent his head. “Poppy, you’ve heard of werewolves, right?”

  I snorted. “Yes. Who hasn’t?”

  He looked down at me, his eyes returning to chocolate brown once more like magik.

  I blinked several times. “Are you telling me that you’re a werewolf?”

  “No. I’m a wolf-shifter. There is a difference. I was born what I am. Not bitten and infected with it all, like some,” he confessed.

  Deep down, I wanted to laugh off what he was saying as a joke, but I knew better. “You’re saying you can turn into a wolf?”

  “Yes,” he said softly, staying close to me. “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “And this is something you’ve always been able to do?” I questioned.

  He nodded.

  “And you were born this way?”

  Again, he nodded.

  “Do your parents know?”

  He grinned. “Yes. They’re aware. They’re wolf-shifters too.”

  I gasped. “They are? Were they born that way too?”

  “Yes,” he said evenly. “Are you scared of me?”

  “No. I have too many questions to be scared of you. Plus, I’ve known you most of my life. If you were going to eat me or something, I’m guessing you’d have done it long ago.”

  He raked his gaze over me slowly, growling in a manner that said he wanted to eat me all right, just not the way I’d meant.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. It helped break the tension.

  He grinned. “What? You can’t blame me. I can see through your nightgown, and I’m hard as a rock just smelling you.”

  I didn’t comment on that; instead, I went back to what he’d said before. The part about loving me. “Brett, did you mean what you said about loving me?”

  “Yes,” he said sternly. “While I’m on a roll here with confessions, I should be the first to tell you that you are, in fact, my mate. That’s what the supernatural community calls a perfect match. A pair that was created for one another. You’re that person for me, Poppy-seed. I’ve known it for about sixteen or seventeen years now. Well, I guess I knew it before that, but I didn’t realize it. My father pointed it out when he learned I’d lost control of myself, nearly shifted forms in front of you the night I was going to propose. I thought I was a risk to you. That I’d hurt you. He pointed out that wasn’t possible. That you’re my mate. My perfect match. The woman born to be my wife.”

  I focused on everything he was telling me—which was a lot.

  “But I’m not a wolf-shifter. Shouldn’t I be one to be your match? Like your mother and your father are both wolf-shifters?” I questioned.

  He touched my cheek. “Poppy, you’re a Proctor witch. You may not be able to wield magik like your grandmother and grandfather, but you come from a long line of true magiks.”

  I just stood there, staring at him for what felt like an eternity before I stopped trying to make sense of it all and acted on impulse.

  I went to my tiptoes and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling his head down more. I then kissed the man with everything I had.

  He returned the kiss and took it one step further, backing me toward the bed. I knew what that meant and what he intended to do, and I wanted it.

  I wanted him.

  Twenty

  Poppy

  Brett lifted me and my legs went around his waist automatically, much like they had in the kitchen when we’d kissed. As I thought about what else happened when we kissed before, I tensed and he stopped what he was doing.

  He sighed. “You aren’t ready for this.”

  “Oh, I’m ready, but, Brett, were you telling me the truth about my grandfather haunting the house?” I asked.

  “Yes, honey,” he returned.

  I glanced around. “Is he watching us now?”

  He looked around too. “I sure in the hell hope not. Tuck, if you’re here, consider this fair warning. I’m about to claim your granddaughter, my mate. So if you don’t want a firsthand view, run!”

  The bedroom door slammed shut with a start. It was followed by the sound of footsteps moving down the hall quickly, in the other direction. My mouth fell open. “No way.”

  Brett laughed. “Way. And it would seem Tuck does not want to be present for this.”

  “Brett!”

  “I could stop and try to make you fully understand everything you’ve had thrown at you or I could do what I want,” he said, his lips nearing mine again. “Make love to you and make you mine. Do you want that, Poppy?”

  I did.

  I nodded.

  “Understand that if this happens between us—if I claim you—there is no going back. No Dana getting you out of it later. It’s for life. No divorce, honey. No take-backs. It’s for always,” he said.

  “I understand,” I whispered, fairly confident that I was indeed following along.

  “Good,” he said, grinning wickedly as he carried me to the bed and laid me out on it.

  Flashbacks to the last time I’d been naked with him came to me and I tensed.

  Brett shook his head, his lips going for mine as he climbed onto the bed over me. “I’m not going anywhere, Poppy-seed. I’m in this for the long haul. Are you?”

  I had a brief near-panic moment as my conversation with Dana about having only been with Thomas sexually came over me, but I managed to temper it. Barely. So what if I had all of one bed partner in my forty years on the earth. It didn’t matter. I was going to make the most of my second partner.

  Brett’s hand found its way under my shirt and I really wished I’d gone with s
exy sleepwear, in place of comfy articles of clothing. At least my panties weren’t hideous. That was something, right?

  As his finger slinked up my rib cage, to just under my left breast, I considered bolting from the bed as if it was my first sexual encounter ever. But as his kiss deepened, I found myself getting lost in the moment with him, my hands running over the planes of his back. His skin was feverous, and I found myself nipping at his lower lip, wanting him to hurry things along.

  I nearly took over but deep down I got the sense he needed this—needed to be the one who was in charge at this second in time. I stiffened as I realized what that something was.

  “Poppy?” he asked, his lips finding my ear. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

  “No,” I said softly, clinging to him. “I was just thinking about your wolf. Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” he said, nibbling on my earlobe before growling lightly, his hand fully engulfing my left breast. “I’m fabulous.”

  A sultry laugh came from me as I ran my hands down his back, toward his lower half.

  He propped himself up on one arm and used his free hand to lift my shirt. He then worked it up and over my head, managing to keep it from getting tangled in my long hair in the process.

  Impressive.

  The cool air of the room moved over me and I grabbed for Brett, wanting his warmth—wanting him.

  He denied me as he slid down the length of me, his eyes showing small flecks of yellow as he did. “Poppy.”

  Reaching out, I skimmed my hand over his scruffy cheek.

  He eased my yoga pants and panties down the length of my legs with a slowness that left a frustrated growl coming from me.

  The man had the nerve to laugh as if my growl was cute or something.

  I shot him a hard look only to find him staring at me—all of me.

  He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s really hot in here.”

  It was then I noticed the sheen of sweat on his torso.

  For some reason, knowing he liked what he saw when looking at me minus clothes, after twenty years and two children, made me feel like the sexiest woman alive. That chased away all the insecurities I’d been lugging around with me since learning my ex had cheated on me more than once.