by Jodi Redford
He stalked to the sliding glass door and after springing the lock, rammed it open. Kegan’s gaze immediately veered to the obvious tent pole in Logan’s shorts and he grimaced. “Jesus, could you put that thing away?”
“What the hell are you doin’ here, Justice?”
“Constance bought a new display cabinet.”
Logan scrubbed his forearm across his jaw. “That naturally brought you here why?”
“You own the truck that’s going to haul the old unit to the donation center.”
What a fucking coincidence. He also owned the balls that were undoubtedly gonna be busted in the process of hefting the damn cabinet. He was half tempted to tell Kegan to find another willing chump, but then he remembered that Clarissa was supposed to be helping Constance mind the store today. “Give me a sec to throw on some clothes.”
Sweeping his attention once again to Logan’s groin, Kegan grunted. “Yeah, we don’t need you taking out low-hanging power lines with that fuckin’ thing.”
“Blow me.” Tuning out Kegan’s excessive cursing in reply to that invitation, Logan traipsed to his bedroom and got dressed in record time. Less than five minutes later, he and Kegan were cruising toward Savannah in the pickup.
A companionable silence passed before Kegan cleared his throat. “Do you think it’d be weird if I asked Constance to be my date for Griff and Jemma’s wedding this weekend?”
Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, Logan slid the bear shifter a sidelong glance. He’d wondered how long it’d take Kegan to grow some cojones when it came to his unrequited crush on Constance. “Nope. You should do it.”
“Yeah? You don’t think she’ll laugh in my face?”
“Oh, she’ll definitely laugh in your face. But you should do it anyway.”
“Dickhead.” A chuffing noise came from Kegan as he crooked his arm on the back of the passenger seat. His assessing look made Logan slightly nervous. The one thing he didn’t want was a grizzly bear eyeing him with invisible wolf chops hovering over his head like in those fucking cartoons.
“Have you ever tried hooking up with Clarissa?”
The question was so opposite what he’d been expecting that he nearly choked. “Uh, yeah.” It popped out before he could think twice about it.
“Any luck?”
His mind immediately tracked to last night, when she’d been squirming and gasping and coming beneath him. He instantly got hard again. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
Kegan snorted. “You don’t hafta. We all know the ice mistress wouldn’t let no one in her life, much less her bed.”
Logan slashed his gaze in Kegan’s direction again, an angry growl rolling from his throat. “Fuckin’ call her that again and I’ll rip your tonsils out through your nose.”
Kegan’s sandy blond eyebrows winged upward. “Whoa. Didn’t mean no disrespect.”
“It goddamn is disrespectful. And she deserves better than that.”
A hot wash of shame colored Kegan’s cheeks. Hanging his head, he stared at his lap. “You’re right. Clarissa’s good people.” He peeked at Logan before staring out the windshield. “I’m shutting up now.”
“Good.” But the damage was already done. Not only was he pissed at the slight against Clarissa, he couldn’t shake Kegan’s damning words out of his brain. Shit, he knew better than anyone that Clarissa had let someone into her bed. The bruise on his ass where the heel of her foot dug into him while he’d fucked her senseless damn well proved it. But that didn’t mean she was ready to let him into her heart.
She’d stopped him from mating with her. Not only that, she’d panicked over it. True, he’d jumped that gun way too fast. Too soon. But every instinct in him had howled to make the love and devotion that fired his blood a permanent testimony and bond.
Never in his entire life had he come remotely close to giving in to that natural inclination of his species. Hell, before last night he’d half convinced himself the lupine desire to mate for life was only a myth perpetrated by romantics and drunk wolves looking to get laid. But now he knew the awful truth. Worse, he was its newest victim.
He was fuckin’ screwed. And not in a good way.
“Shit, you just missed the exit.”
Logan jerked his focus to the rearview mirror. Sure enough, he’d overshot the cross street that led to the shopping district where the coven’s store was located. He hung a right at the next available intersection and zigzagged back to Broughton Street. Five minutes later, he pulled to a stop in front of Charmed Moon. While Kegan made a call on his cell, Logan climbed from the pickup and took his time rounding the vehicle and striding toward the shop’s entrance in an effort not to appear overly eager. Unfortunately, he ruined his vibe of macho coolness the instant he walked inside the front entrance and didn’t see Clarissa anywhere. “Where is she?”
Constance looked up from the box she was unpacking and frowned. “Where’s who?”
“Clarissa.”
Constance eyed him with a deep, penetrating stare that also left him a tad uncomfortable and sweating from his brow. For shit’s sake, did she and Kegan practice that look together? It was fuckin’ freaky. Finally a crafty grin slipped across her face. “She had to run an errand with Marabella, but she should be showing up any minute now.”
He feigned a casual shrug. “I was just surprised not to see her.”
“Ah, of course.” Constance’s eyes sparkled like she was the soul recipient of an amazing secret. “By the way, your aura is extra bright and glowy today.”
His forehead scrunched. “That’s, uh, good to know.”
Gifting him a beaming grin, she rose to her feet and brushed off the knees of her black leggings. “I’ve got to grab the dolly and straps from the stockroom. Be right back.” Whistling a cheery tune, she skipped toward the rear of the store.
The bells dinged behind Logan, announcing Kegan’s arrival. He turned and frowned at the bear shifter. “What the hell does it mean if my aura is bright and glowy?”
Kegan scratched his whisker-shadowed jaw. “Damned if I know. And I don’t think glowy is an actual word.”
Their conversation plowed to an abrupt halt when Constance reappeared with the dolly. She bent and attached one end of the straps, flashing some generous cleavage in the process. Kegan’s tongue damn near dragged on the floor, and Logan shook his head. Fuckin’ pathetic.
The loose floorboard near the back hallway creaked, and Logan looked up just as Clarissa walked into the room. A raucous chorus of hosannas exploded inside his heart. Shit yeah. He was definitely one screwed pooch.
“Sorry I’m late, Con—” The rest of Clarissa’s apology seemed to logjam in her mouth as her gaze finally locked with his. She bit her lip, her cheeks slowly going pink. “You…I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“I’m here to help move some stuff.” And make a total love-struck ass of himself while he was at it. Hell, clearly Kegan wasn’t the only one who deserved a gold star in that department.
Clarissa continued staring at him for a long moment before she broke from whatever trance had held her hostage. “Oh. Well. Thank you for lending a hand. I should probably…uh…do things. Somewhere.” She winced and muttered something beneath her breath that could have passed for a cuss.
A snicker floated from Constance. Shooting her a hard glare, Clarissa pivoted and marched toward the stockroom, her head held high.
“The display unit I want moved is over here.” Constance trotted toward the far wall. “I’ve already cleared it off, so half the work is already done, right?”
Both he and Kegan grunted, earning a sheepish grin from Constance. Inching between them, she slung an arm around their waists and squeezed them in a tight group hug. “Have I told you lately how super awesome you guys are?”
Logan recognized a blatant case of ass kissing when he saw it, but Kegan only gave a sappy grin. Given how he’d nearly worn the same expression two minutes ago when Clarissa walked into the room looking like his every fa
ntasy come to life, he decided not to give Kegan too much crap. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t silently call him a schmuck. Which he did.
The old display unit actually proved to not be as much of a ball-buster as he’d feared. But the two-ton behemoth that Constance purchased was a whole other matter. In fact, he and Kegan dropped enough F bombs while positioning it that Clarissa came out from hiding to see what all the fuss was about. Having her mere steps away from him, the heat of her gaze like a constant caress across his charged skin, was pure torture. Particularly since he wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and bury his nose in her fiery hair until he was properly drunk on her.
Kegan said something that he didn’t quite catch. He leaned sideways, trying to see around the edge of the unit. “What?”
“You got a good grip on that side, right?”
Before he could reply that he didn’t, the entire cabinet tilted precariously toward him. “Son of a bitch.” Moving fast, he slammed his shoulder into the upper shelf, leveraging all his weight against the solid mass of wood. The unit groaned and creaked in protest before tipping safely into place. He stepped back a pace, his hand automatically reaching for his throbbing left shoulder.
Kegan popped his head around the corner of the cabinet, his face mottled with sweat. “I thought you said you had a damn grip.”
He could think of a million responses to Kegan’s stupid-ass assumption, most of them involving the use of more F bombs, but the sudden and unexpected gentle probing of fingers along his aching deltoid muscle stalled him. Clarissa’s fresh spring scent filled his nostrils, and he shivered in unrestrained pleasure while she continued to knead his flesh. The soft intonation of her chanted spell drifted to his ears, flowing in a melodic pattern that wove within the very fibers of his muscles and blossomed into a soothing buffer of warmth. Almost immediately, the ache vanished.
“Better?” she whispered.
“No,” he lied in hopes of keeping her there, touching him for eternity. A knowing smile curved her mouth, and she dropped her hand.
Just as he was about to curse his rotten luck, Constance tossed a bottle at him. He caught it and gave her a blank stare.
“Charmed massage oil. One of our best sellers.” Constance waggled her brows. A wicked chuckle escaping her, she darted her eyes in Clarissa’s direction. “I’m sure you can find a willing volunteer to give you a rubdown later.”
A lengthy look passed between the two witches, during which Clarissa’s body stiffened and Constance’s grin widened. Finally Clarissa broke the stare and muttered “Shit” before stalking off. He waited exactly ten heartbeats before following after her. She was pacing just beyond the threshold of the stockroom, her expression suggesting that she’d just discovered the world was ending tomorrow. Shoving her fingers through to the roots of her hair, she peered at him. “Constance knows you’re my wonder stud.” She returned his stare, her cheeks flushing. “Her words, not mine.”
Well damn. Seems he needed to up his game. “Is it so horrible that she knows about us?”
Her gaze dropped, giving him all the answer he needed. A sharp pain stabbed him in the vicinity of his heart. “Are you fuckin’ ashamed of sleepin’ with me?”
She jerked her head up, her mouth falling open. “Good goddess, of course not. I—I just hate people knowing my personal business and speculating.”
“On what?”
She stared at the ground again and hugged her chest. He didn’t know what twisted his insides more. The shaky vulnerability in her voice, or the fact that she didn’t want anyone to know about their relationship. And goddamn it, it was a relationship. Corralling his frustration, he plunked the bottle of massage oil on top of the stack of boxes and crossed to Clarissa, taking her into his arms the way he’d been longing to do since stepping foot into the shop. “Whatever you’re scared of, Rissa, don’t be. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
Rather than the reassurance he’d hoped for, a shadow of gloom crept into her eyes, and she swallowed. Desperate to detour her from whatever dark path her mind was taking, he lowered his head and kissed her. A breathy sigh parted her lips, granting him the perfect opportunity to glide his tongue over hers. After the briefest hesitation, her hands smoothed upward across his torso before slipping behind his neck. He cradled her waist, holding her close against him. For several long, delicious moments, he explored her mouth, basking in the soft gasps she made. His hands trailed to her breasts and cupped them through the layers of her bra and knit top. “I’ve got to leave for work, but the entire duration of my shift I’m gonna be fantasizin’ about gettin’ these luscious babies slick with that massage oil so you and me can play some naked Twister.”
Her laugh didn’t quite defeat her groan. She tried to push away from him, but he tightened his grip, his mouth sliding toward the underside of her jaw. “I get off early tonight. Come by around eight.”
“Why? So you can get off again?”
“Yep. Don’t worry, you’ll be getting off also. Too many times to count.”
“Hm, in that case, maybe I better bring my calculator.”
He nibbled her earlobe. “Doubt it can add that high.”
“Nice to see you’ve finally gotten that ego under control.”
Her dry sarcasm was precisely the response he’d been hoping for. Whatever sadness that’d imprisoned Clarissa earlier had vanished. The world was right again.
“I’ll see you later.” He kissed her one last time before reluctantly releasing her from his grasp. “Skip wearing underwear, though. Saves time.”
One ginger eyebrow lifted. “Maybe I should ditch clothes all together.”
A hot lick of lust curled in his groin at the mental image that sprang to mind. “Even better.” Willing his hard-on to dissipate, he turned on his heel, swiped the bottle of massage oil and strode from the room.
Once in the main section of the store, he found himself the subject of Constance’s amused scrutiny. “Wow, your aura is practically blinding me.” While she made a mock show of shielding her eyes, Kegan grimaced in the direction of Logan’s fly. “For crying out loud, does that thing have a damn off switch?”
Deciding it was way past time for some payback for the wisecracks and almost getting squashed by a cabinet, Logan shot Kegan a wolfish grin. “Might want to shut up before I decide to tell Constance how you’re too chickenshit to ask her out.”
His face turning redder than an overcooked lobster, Kegan jerked his gaze to Constance, who was gaping at her familiar like he’d sprouted a foot from the center of his forehead. Snapping his focus back to Logan, Kegan mouthed the word Motherfucker and stormed outside. The front windows afforded a more than adequate view as the bear shifter climbed into the pickup and banged the door shut before cracking his knuckles and glaring at Logan.
Giving the dazed Constance a chipper smile, Logan strode toward the exit. And no doubt one hell of an ass beating.
But damn if it wasn’t worth it.
Chapter Twelve
Clarissa fully expected Constance to harass her about Logan at some point during the two hours they’d spent cataloging inventory together. The fact that her coven sister hadn’t brought him up at all left her a tad worried. And on guard. Knowing Constance, she was waiting for the most inconvenient moment to spring it on her. So she was more than relieved when the front door chimed and Fiona strolled inside, Jade trailing behind her with a sulky pout.
Jade gave an angry jerk to her backpack. “Just so you know, you’re the meanest sister on the planet.”
“Wrong. I came in second to Tula Jasper. She’s got the award sitting on her mantel if you don’t believe me.”
Her eyes hotter than lasers fueled by the wrath of a million petulant teenagers, Jade glared at Fiona’s back before flouncing in the direction of the kitchenette. Soon as Jade was out of earshot, Fiona flung out her arms. “So help me, if I possessed even a fraction of the melodramatic histrionics as Jade when I was her age, I owe Aunt Gert a whopper o
f an apology.”
The mention of Gertie automatically reminded Clarissa of the important discussion she needed to have with Fiona regarding the future of the coven. She felt kind of bad burdening Fiona with more problems when she obviously had enough on her plate with Jade’s current drama-queen enactment. Still, it had to be done. She eased her guilty conscience by promising herself to do whatever she could to help Fiona sort out the problem with Jade. Crossing to Fiona, she cocked her head toward the rear hallway. “I need to talk to you.”
Fiona nodded and followed Clarissa to the stockroom. Once inside, Clarissa shut the door and latched it. She caught Fiona’s bemused expression. “This way we’ll have privacy.”
Though most coven business wasn’t conducted behind closed doors, fortunately Fiona didn’t question the atypical shift in procedure. “I apologize for the outburst earlier. Jade’s pissed at me because I nixed her idea of partying in New Orleans this Samhain by herself.”
Clarissa wrinkled her nose. “Good goddess, what is she thinking? That’s the last thing a sixteen-year-old needs to be doing all on her own.”
“My words exactly. Only now she thinks that I’m the wickedest witch this side of the Mississippi.” Fiona tugged at one of her shoulder-length platinum-blonde locks. “Maybe I should die my hair black and spray paint my skin green to complete the transformation.”
Despite Fiona’s obvious frustration at dealing with Jade, a pang of envy still splintered through Clarissa. There were many times growing up when she’d wished for a sister. Someone other than an imaginary friend to share her private turmoil with. Someone to love her, and tell her she wasn’t merely the byproduct of an alcoholic binge and a busted condom. Tuning out the cruel, taunting voice inside her head, she focused on Fiona. “Do you want me to talk to Jade?”