Wild & Hexy

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Always. ‘‘I’m here.’’ There was more laughing in the background. Once upon a time he would have been convinced the laughter had something to do with him, but today he didn’t let himself think that.

  ‘‘Melody says it’s no problem as long as you don’t let me drown in Deep Lake. She’d have trouble finding a new matron of honor so close to the wedding.’’

  Chapter 4

  After being reassured that life jackets would be involved in her virgin kayaking experience, Annie hung up the phone.

  ‘‘So what was that all about?’’ Still grinning, Melody picked up her cinnamon bun. She apparently found the idea of Jeremy pursuing Annie hilarious. ‘‘He must have an agenda if he tracked you down at the crack of dawn in order to ask you out. That’s major enthusiasm.’’

  ‘‘I’m not sure what it’s about.’’ Annie looked away as Melody bit into her cinnamon bun. Her sister had tried to talk her into buying one, but Annie had stayed strong. It hadn’t been easy. The Hob Knob had the best cinnamon rolls Annie had ever tasted.

  Instead of watching Melody eat, Annie glanced over at Gwen, not sure how this invitation of Jeremy’s might be affecting her. Gwen had joked with Melody about Jeremy’s eagerness, but that might have been a cover-up. No telling if he’d broken her heart, but if he had, she was hiding it beautifully.

  Gwen had always been a class act, and Annie had been happy to discover she still was. She was also the kind of woman a makeover team would love.

  Her brown hair could use a more flattering cut, but apparently she’d never cared to experiment with hair-cuts, or makeup, either, for that matter. Her clothes did nothing to show off her figure, and her glasses didn’t compliment her face at all. A few simple changes and one of her flowers tucked behind her ear, and Gwen would be dynamite.

  ‘‘I’m glad Jeremy’s dating again,’’ Gwen said. ‘‘He’s a great guy.’’

  Annie searched for envy in her friend’s brown eyes and found none. Still, she would play it safe. ‘‘I don’t consider this a date.’’

  Melody finished off the cinnamon roll. ‘‘If it walks like a date and talks like a date, then it must be a date.’’

  ‘‘Then it’s a date with no future.’’ Deciding to meet the Gwen-and-Jeremy dilemma head-on, Annie focused on her friend. ‘‘Mom said you and Jeremy used to go out.’’

  Gwen sighed. ‘‘God, we did. We surely did. I can’t believe we gave in to parental pressure at our age, but they kept throwing us together and making it obvious how thrilled they’d be if we became a couple.’’

  ‘‘I’m sure they made it sound cozy,’’ Annie said.

  ‘‘Oh, definitely. Before my folks moved to Arizona, they used to play pinochle with the Dunstans every Thursday night, and I’m convinced they spent a good part of the evening picking out names for the children Jeremy and I were supposed to have.’’

  Melody licked her fingers and picked up a book of flower arrangements. ‘‘Manipulation to the max.’’

  ‘‘It was, but I can see their rationale. We got along fine, and Jeremy’s even cuter now than he was as a teenager. I should have wanted to jump his bones, but . . . I didn’t.’’

  Annie wondered if Gwen’s built-in gaydar had warned her off, but she said nothing.

  ‘‘After a while,’’ Gwen continued, ‘‘I figured out he wasn’t sexually interested in me, either. One night we finished off a bottle of wine, got slightly smashed and admitted that we had no interest in becoming lovers. Both sets of parents were crushed, but that’s the breaks.’’

  ‘‘Good thing you could be honest with each other,’’ Annie said.

  ‘‘Amen to that.’’ Gwen gazed at her. ‘‘Now that we’re talking about this, I seem to remember Jeremy had a crush on you back in school.’’

  ‘‘He did?’’ Annie had never noticed anything of the kind.

  Gwen laughed. ‘‘Don’t look so shocked. Half the boys in school had a crush on you. You were the—’’

  ‘‘I’ve decided to add daisies to the bridal bouquet,’’ Melody said. ‘‘I’ve found an arrangement I really like here on page twenty-three. But I want to keep the white roses. They’re the focal point, the serious wedding flowers. The daisies are a dash of whimsy, just like it says here in the catalog.’’

  Gwen exchanged a glance with Annie and smiled. ‘‘Sure thing.’’ She walked over to where Melody sat on a stool with the book open on the counter in front of her. ‘‘Adding daisies is a brilliant idea.’’

  In that moment, Annie decided she’d missed having a friend like Gwen. In all the years they’d spent together, Gwen had never acted jealous of Annie’s accomplishments and popularity. Annie couldn’t say that about too many people, including her sister. She definitely couldn’t say it about her ex-husband. She wouldn’t be so foolish as to lose touch with Gwen a second time.

  Dorcas stood on the front porch and gazed with distaste at the red scooter parked there. Ambrose had bought the stupid thing last winter, and he loved it. Dorcas did not. But their only other mode of transportation was her hand-carved broom, and they didn’t dare ride that in the middle of the day.

  They’d scheduled a noon appointment with George in the Whispering Forest as an experiment to find out if the dragon was capable of getting up that early. A Guardian of the Forest had to switch from night to day shifts occasionally to properly patrol the area. George had the habits of a teenager—awake until all hours of the night and asleep most of the day.

  Because of that he was useless at daytime patrols, and that had to change or he’d never earn his golden scales. George earning his golden scales was the key to allowing the Lowells to leave Big Knob and return home to Sedona. Dorcas still thought the punishment that had sent them here had been too harsh, but there had been no appeal.

  Intent should have counted for something, and she’d meant to help Thaddeus Hedgehump with erectile dysfunction, not cause him more problems. The solution had seemed obvious—bespell Thaddeus so he became aroused at the sight of his wife wearing support hose. Unfortunately, Dorcas had neglected to make the spell specific to his wife’s support hose, and Thaddeus had become a bit of a problem at the Witch and Wizard’s Senior Center.

  Dorcas and Ambrose still might have escaped with a slap on the wrist, except that Thaddeus happened to be the Grand High Wizard’s brother-in-law. Banishment to Big Knob had been the sentence, with no reprieve given until they’d rehabilitated George.

  George was better, but far from ready to assume his duties. Desperate for a way to keep him awake during the day, Dorcas had promised him a special treat if he’d show up at the clearing by noon. He adored presents, so he might arrive on time.

  ‘‘Let’s ride!’’ Ambrose strutted out the door wearing his leather motorcycle jacket, leather chaps and a red bandana tied around his head.

  Dorcas couldn’t decide which was more embarrassing, the silly little red scooter or Ambrose tricked out like a Hells Angel. ‘‘I think it’s time we bought a car.’’

  ‘‘Now, that would be ridiculous. We’ve made out fine borrowing Maggie’s when the weather’s bad. We don’t need a car.’’

  ‘‘If you want to talk about ridiculous—’’

  ‘‘I don’t. I want to ride over to see George and sell him on the joys of sunshine.’’ He tucked a journal inside his leather jacket and zipped it up.

  ‘‘What do you have there?’’

  ‘‘My ammunition. I’ve been collecting quotes from famous people about the value of rising early. I plan to read them to George.’’

  Dorcas rolled her eyes. ‘‘Oh, that’ll work.’’

  ‘‘You have a better idea?’’

  ‘‘I do.’’ Dorcas patted her pocket. ‘‘Chocolate-covered espresso beans.’’

  ‘‘You’re kidding.’’

  ‘‘Nope.’’

  ‘‘You’re seriously planning to give high-octane caffeine to a two-thousand-pound dragon who’s ADD?’’

  ‘‘Ambrose, he’s not ADD. He
uses that as an excuse, and you know it. George is just lazy and a little immature.’’

  ‘‘In that case, my quotes are exactly what he needs.’’ Ambrose unzipped his jacket, took out the journal and opened it to the first page. ‘‘The early bird gets the—’’

  ‘‘The early bird gets the chocolate-covered espresso beans. You won’t win points with George by pushing worms, my love. Now, wheel that red monstrosity down the steps and let’s do this. Otherwise we’ll be late, and that’s a poor example to set.’’

  ‘‘Right.’’ Ambrose grabbed the handlebars. Then he paused. ‘‘Do you think Sabrina wants to come?’’

  ‘‘Probably not. She’s sleeping.’’ Sabrina was tired from her big adventure this morning, but Dorcas didn’t want to mention that just now.

  ‘‘Then let’s go.’’ Ambrose started the engine.

  With a grimace of resignation, Dorcas climbed on behind him.

  ‘‘I stopped at Click-or-Treat this morning,’’ Ambrose said as they putt-putted down the bumpy sidewalk and onto the street.

  Dorcas leaned closer so she could hear him. ‘‘And how’s Jeremy?’’

  ‘‘Walking and talking like an alpha male. Annie’s article with his picture that showed up in the Tribune this morning didn’t faze him a bit. He accepted all the fanfare coming his way as if he was used to it.’’

  ‘‘Excellent.’’ Dorcas was glad the spell had worked. She’d been a little concerned about allowing Jeremy down in the basement during the circle ceremony, but that’s what the spell book had called for, so they’d risked it. ‘‘Does he remember anything about last night?’’

  ‘‘Not much. He asked me if I liked Frankie Avalon, so he might have registered that we were playing ‘Venus’ on the stereo.’’

  Dorcas groaned. Ambrose had a thing for that song and insisted on playing it whenever they worked a matchmaking spell. Sabrina aided and abetted by dancing the cha-cha with him as they circled the cauldron.

  ‘‘I don’t think it’s a problem,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘He was pretty fuzzy headed by the time we took him to the basement.’’

  ‘‘True. You do make great Irish coffee.’’ Dorcas waved as Sean Madigan drove past in his truck. No doubt he was heading to their house to take Maggie out to lunch.

  ‘‘Jeremy didn’t think he’d learned any magic, though,’’ Ambrose continued, ‘‘so I demonstrated that he could do a coin trick and manifest a red rose if he said abracadabra.’’

  ‘‘I still say we shouldn’t have used that old cliché. Nobody says abracadabra anymore.’’

  ‘‘Not in our crowd, but it sounds right to a guy like Jeremy. He tried to analyze the tricks, but I managed to convince him it was an intuitive thing and analyzing would screw him up.’’

  ‘‘Good thinking.’’ Dorcas hung on to Ambrose as he braked to a stop and allowed Clara Loudermilk to cross the street in front of them.

  It was obviously Clara’s day at the Bob and Weave Hair Salon, because a purple cape covered her ample bosom, her hair was wrapped in foil and she carried her Chihuahua, named Bud, in her arms. Clara was too impatient to wait at the salon while her hair color processed, so she ran errands while the dye worked its magic.

  ‘‘Good morning, Clara,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘Good morning, Bud.’’

  Bud, of course, started frantically barking. Bud barked at everything.

  Clara eyed them with suspicion. ‘‘I think that scooter upsets Bud. I’ve noticed he’s very sensitive to the color red.’’ Tucking the squirming dog under her arm, Clara marched across the street.

  ‘‘Nice to see you both,’’ Ambrose called after them.

  Dorcas laughed. ‘‘You’ll never charm Clara. She doesn’t trust anyone unless they were born and raised here.’’

  ‘‘Forget Clara. I’m working on the dog. I think he likes me better already.’’ Ambrose piloted the scooter past the square and continued on Fifth in the direction of the Whispering Forest.

  Outside of town, trees covered in new green leaves arched over the two-lane road. Dorcas took a deep breath and savored the loamy scent of plants coming to life. Up ahead, the granite splendor of Big Knob thrust 192 feet into the air.

  Dorcas gazed at the town’s namesake. ‘‘How long since we’ve had outdoor sex?’’

  ‘‘Too long. I’m not used to these cold winters.’’

  ‘‘Me, either.’’ Back in Sedona they’d been able to have outdoor sex almost year-round, but sex in the snow wasn’t her idea of fun.

  ‘‘I don’t think we should try it in the Whispering Forest, though,’’ Ambrose said. ‘‘Just our luck George would decide to patrol at that very moment and he’d be traumatized for life.’’

  ‘‘He would, now that we’ve become parental figures to him.’’

  ‘‘The lake’s not such a good spot for outdoor sex right now, either,’’ Ambrose said.

  ‘‘Because of Dee-Dee?’’

  ‘‘Dear Zeus, I forgot about her!’’ Ambrose swerved onto the side road leading into the forest and stopped the scooter in a spray of loose dirt.

  ‘‘Ambrose, for Hera’s sake! What’s wrong with you?’’

  Turning in his seat, he looked back at Dorcas. ‘‘Jeremy and Annie will be kayaking across the lake this evening. We have to stop them!’’

  ‘‘We’ll do no such thing.’’

  ‘‘But what about Dee-Dee? We don’t know what she might do. We can’t endanger—’’

  ‘‘I talked with her again this morning. In fact, I took Sabrina with me.’’

  Ambrose’s face turned the color of merlot and he could barely speak. ‘‘You—you promised you wouldn’t pursue that if we took on Jeremy and Annie’s case!’’

  ‘‘I said I’d put it on the back burner. Which I have. I got up very early, before we had anything scheduled, so that’s back burner to the tenth power. You didn’t even know I was gone, did you?’’

  ‘‘That’s beside the point, and you took Sabrina. She would have been a one-bite snack for that creature, a cheese puff, a snickerdoodle, a—’’

  ‘‘Nonsense. Dee-Dee’s a vegetarian. Anyway, now Sabrina and Dee-Dee are friends. Dee-Dee took Sabrina on a ride around the lake this morning.’’

  "She what?"

  ‘‘It’s really adorable, Ambrose. Sabrina perches on Dee-Dee’s head, and off they go. Sabrina sits up there with her ears back and her fur blowing in the wind. She loves it. I wish I’d had a camera.’’

  Openmouthed, Ambrose stared at her.

  She patted his cheek. ‘‘Don’t worry about Dee-Dee, sweetheart. I’m on the case.’’

  Jeremy expected to see Annie sometime during the day because she’d have to send another story to the Tribune. He thought she might come in after lunch, but he was pleasantly surprised when she showed up before noon.

  Click-or-Treat was busy. A whole crowd of teenagers often stopped by during their lunch hour to check e-mail, and today they’d also shown up to check out his story in the Trib. Consequently the place was jammed when Annie walked in the front door.

  She was carrying her black trench coat instead of wearing it, and when he got a look at her tight jeans and form-fitting red T-shirt, he felt like a cartoon character with spring-loaded eyes. Boing.

  He waved to her and she waved back, but a quick glance around the café told him that every terminal was in use. He evaluated who he could bump to give her access and settled on Tony, who was supposed to start working in twenty minutes, anyway. ‘‘I need you to take a break,’’ he said as he approached the teenager. ‘‘Annie’s here to file her story for the Tribune.’’

  ‘‘You’ve got it, Boss.’’ Tony signed off and stood. ‘‘Look, I’ve been thinking about her, and if you’re not inclined that way, then how about if I—’’

  Jeremy grabbed Tony by the back of the neck. ‘‘Listen up. I am not gay,’’ he said in a low voice that sounded so macho he almost ruined the effect by laughing. He couldn’t explain this sudden personality change o
f his, but he was beginning to realize it was fun.

  Tony held up both hands. ‘‘Easy, dude. I believe you. Never thought you were. Seriously.’’

  ‘‘Yeah, you did, but it’s okay.’’ Jeremy gave him a friendly push toward the counter. ‘‘Have a macchiato on the house.’’

  ‘‘I’m all over that.’’ Tony gave Annie a smile as he walked by her on his way to the counter. ‘‘Welcome back.’’

  ‘‘Thanks.’’ Her answering smile seemed to light up the entire café.

  ‘‘I cleared a terminal for you.’’ Jeremy watched her approach as X-rated fantasies danced in his head. Tonight, they’d be alone on the far side of the lake. He might never have another chance like that, and he was determined not to blow it.

  ‘‘Looks like you booted Tony off.’’

  ‘‘Tony doesn’t have a newspaper editor breathing down his neck.’’ Jeremy would love to breathe down Annie’s neck, and nibble her earlobe, and take that gold hoop earring in his teeth, tugging gently while he—

  ‘‘Annie!’’ Bobble-head shop owner Billie Smoot, her impossibly blond hair sticking out in all directions and something red staining her orange sweatshirt, charged through the front door. The bobble-head dolls she clutched in each hand gyrated madly as she rushed over to Annie’s terminal. ‘‘I found Dolly Parton and Cleopatra!’’

  Annie leaped up, seemingly as excited as Billie. ‘‘Terrific! Did you find Jesus?’’

  Billie sighed. ‘‘I couldn’t find Jesus. I searched high and low, but either I’ve lost him or I sold him and forgot to write it down in my ledger.’’

  ‘‘I’m glad you didn’t lose Dolly.’’ Tony ambled over sipping his macchiato. ‘‘She was my favorite bobble-head.’’

  ‘‘She’s very different, all right.’’ Billie jiggled her hand. ‘‘Only one with a bobble head and bobble boobs.’’

  ‘‘Yeah,’’ Tony said, gazing at the doll with an expression of worship.

  ‘‘I’ve lost the stand, though. Without that stand, if you set her down she falls flat on her face.’’

  ‘‘No duh.’’ Tony reached for the bobble-head. ‘‘I’ll buy her for half-price.’’