A Dash of Destiny (Warlocks MacGregor Book 8)

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Jennifer pulled back from the kiss and laughed. “I’m sorry, I can’t concentrate with all of them talking.”

  “Say the word, and I’ll cast a spell to take away their voices,” Rory offered.

  “I kinda need to see what he’s wearing.” Jennifer tried to pull away to look.

  “I need ya to tell me your last name,” he said. “I can’t go around saying you’re my lady if I don’t know at least that much. What will people think?”

  Rory wasn’t worried about what other people thought of their relationship. Jennifer’s opinion was all that mattered, but he did want to know everything about her.

  “Maybe I’m a woman of mystery,” she said.

  “That ya are, love,” Rory tried to pull her back into a kiss. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  “Greene,” she whispered.

  “Uh?” He arched a brow. “Yellow?”

  “No, my last name is Greene,” she said. “Jennifer Anne Greene. My mother tried to get people to call me Jenny Anne, but I hated that.”

  “Jennifer Greene.” He frowned as he tried to place how he knew that name.

  “It’s not that bad.” She hit his arm lightly.

  “No, it’s beautiful, like ya, but…” Rory loosened his hold. “Your name is Jennifer Greene?”

  Why did he know that name?

  “Are ya daft, laddie? I told ya she’s a bog wench.” Raibeart said. “Looks just like ole Jenny Greentooth, maybe a wee bit cleaner. No one ever listens to me.”

  Rory was about to scold his uncle when his gaze landed on Raibeart’s crocheted overalls. The one-piece had straps on each shoulder and dipped low in the front to expose his naked chest with shorts that only came to mid-thigh. He didn’t wear anything underneath. However, the most disarming part was the granny-square afghan pattern in brightly colored yarn.

  Raibeart grinned at the attention and put his hands on his hips to pose. “Nice, huh? Margareta and Cait are always nagging me about losing my kilt, so I thought I’d add some variety to the wardrobe. Get with the modern times.”

  Raibeart turned to show the back, thrusting his hips back and forth as he moved his arms in stunted gestures that were probably meant to mimic a model.

  “What do ya think? Fashionable, right?” Raibeart turned back around and lowered his voice in a whisper that wasn’t all that quiet. “The best part is it’s got these breeze holes, airy where a man needs to breathe.”

  “Ah,” Jennifer made a weak noise.

  “See, look at her, speechless.” Raibeart winked. “Ladies can’t resist a man who stands out. We’re like peacocks that way.”

  Rory pried his eyes away and glanced down to where Jennifer stared as if frozen mid-word. He saw Raibeart give a few more poses out of the corner of his eye, and Rory lifted his hand to block the sight from Jennifer.

  She pulled his hand down to unblock her vision. “Wait, did you just say I’m a…swamp hag?”

  “Nae.” Raibeart shook his head. “Bog hag.”

  “Bog wench,” Rory quickly corrected, remembering the name Raibeart had said before his uncle’s outfit had stunned all other thoughts from his mind. His modification hardly sounded better. “Uh, witch, wench, witch...”

  None of it sounded flattering. This was bad.

  Jenny Greentooth.

  “Jennifer Greene. Jenny Greentooth. Jenny Greene. Jennifer Greentooth,” Raibeart said, signing the words like a little ditty he had just made up.

  “Oh, good, I’m a bog witch because that sounds so much better.” Jennifer took a deep breath and looked back and forth between them. She pressed her hands to her mouth. “I don’t even really know what a bog is. I mean, I know it’s like a swamp in Scotland or something. And I heard of medieval bog people being found like mummies.”

  “Right, your old victims,” Raibeart poked his fingers into some of the holes along the overalls waist like and wiggled the digits around like they came out his stomach. “Can’t be too happy to have those lost souls found, eh?”

  “I wasn’t around in the medieval period,” Jennifer stated.

  “How was I to know your age?” Raibeart dismissed. “A gentleman knows better than to ask a lady about such a delicate thing.” He wiggled his fingers faster. “Hey, Rory, check this out. It looks like I have ten little penis—”

  “Stop!” Rory cut the man off.

  “Don’t be green with envy,” Raibeart said, pulling his fingers from the holes. “Ha, Greene and green, what a pair.”

  “Ma, Raibeart is doing inappropriate things in front of Jennifer with the creepy baby jumper he’s wearing,” Rory called.

  “Och!” Raibeart flinched and turned as he readied himself for Cait’s wrath.

  “Come on.” Rory pulled Jennifer with him from the dining room. “We’ll drive for coffee.”

  “We’re not wearing shoes,” she observed.

  “Don’t care. I need to get ya away from here before my family drives ya away for good.” Rory was only half-joking. “I know they can be a lot.”

  “Bye, Jenny Greentooth!” Raibeart yelled. “Lovely to see ya again.”

  “Um, bye?” she mumbled.

  Rory used his magick to open the front door.

  “Is what he said…? Am I really an evil witch?” She started to turn back around as if to confront Raibeart.

  “Allow me.” Rory stopped her from returning to the dining room and lifted her into his arms. He cradled her as he carried her over the threshold and down the front steps toward his car. The cobblestone drive poked his feet, but he didn’t care. “For the record, not all witches are evil. Like humans, many are good. It’s all about choices.”

  If she turned out to be a witch, Rory didn’t want her to have the wrong impression. He gestured the best he could and forced the car door to swing open without touching it. He sat her inside on the passenger seat.

  “Front door.” She pointed to where he’d left the door open. He waved his hand, and it slammed closed a little too loudly.

  Rory ignored the giant gremian dents in his car as he went around to the driver’s seat and got in. “Shall we make good our escape?”

  “Yes, please,” she said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jennifer watched the trees pass by the window, happy to be running away from the mansion. As much as the MacGregors fascinated her—both as warlocks and as a close-knit family—they also overwhelmed her. Their energy was a bit much. Plus, she didn’t trust the elders.

  Jennifer touched her mouth, remembering the taste and texture of mud passing her lips.

  Bog witch. How ridiculous was that idea? She wasn’t any kind of witch, bog or not. Maybe she’d heard them wrong with the accent. Maybe Raibeart and Rory said grog wench, like an old term for a barmaid.

  Maybe but doubtful. Jennifer wasn’t about to start deluding herself now.

  “I don’t like people calling me Jenny,” Jennifer said, thinking of Raibeart’s horrible nickname. She leaned her head against the glass and watched the side of the road as they turned out of the long driveway toward downtown. “My mom used to call me that.”

  “Used to? I’m sorry, did she pass away?” Rory’s hand rested on her leg, drawing her attention from outside of the car.

  “She walked out on us after my older brother died in a car accident. One of his friend’s parents was driving. I don’t think my mom could handle being around my dad and me after that. I heard her fighting with my dad once. She blamed his side of the family for cursing us with the worst luck.” Jennifer sighed, unsure why she was telling him all of this. “The way she said it, too, like it was his fault.”

  Rory reached for her hand and held it as he drove.

  “I think some people aren’t meant to be parents,” she said. “My dad was great, though.”

  “Was?”

  “He died from cancer. Now it’s just me. My dad didn’t have any other family. And if my mom did, they never came around so I wouldn’t know them.” She took a deep breath. “I only remembe
r pieces of her. I remember that her hands smelled like cigarettes when she touched my face before she left. It hurt at first. Then I was angry about it. Then something happened when I was taking care of my dad. I realized that her leaving was more about her deficiencies than it was about mine. I’m nothing like her. I don’t run from hardship or responsibilities. It sucks, but that’s what happened. I had an awesome dad to make up for her lacking.”

  All it takes is a dash of destiny, and everything can change.

  Damn if her mother hadn’t been right about that one.

  “I can’t imagine not having family,” Rory said. “Iain’s right, though. Once you’re in our lives, we’re like kudzu. There’s no getting rid of us.”

  He turned the car into a parking lot and stopped in front of a small coffee shop.

  “We’re not wearing shoes, and I’m in pajamas,” she said. “We can’t go in there.”

  “I’m not having our second coffee date through a drive-thru like the first,” he countered. “Ya wait here. I’ll get it. What would ya like?”

  “Can we count going to get fast food coffee last time as a date?” she asked, unable to help her smile.

  “I am now that I know how low your former dates set the bar,” he stated. “I mean, it’s no hitting ya with my car, but—”

  “Vanilla soy latte please,” she interrupted.

  “Done.” He got out of the car.

  “Oh, and a chocolate chip muffin?” she called after him.

  He grinned, nodding. “Whatever ya wish, love.”

  Jennifer watched him through the window of the coffee shop. The barista giggled as she took his order, flinging her hair over her shoulder. Jennifer was more fascinated than jealous. Everyone Rory talked to walked away with a smile on their face. There was an easiness to his manner, and yet unmistakable confidence.

  She leaned over to open the driver’s side door when he returned with the coffees and a muffin. He handed her order to her.

  “Shall we go somewhere to enjoy them?” he asked.

  “Would you mind driving me home?” Jennifer held her latte in one hand and a giant muffin in the other. She leaned over to bite the top of the muffin while keeping the bottom wrapped in paper.

  “Not at all.” He put his coffee between his knees and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “And would you mind going in with me?” she asked. “I know that weird voice I was hearing had something to do with—whatever that was.”

  “We’ll call it a possession spell,” he supplied.

  “Yeah, that,” she said. “I know that the voice wasn’t real, but—”

  “No, it was very real,” he countered. “And, yes, I’ll check your home for ya. Then, I think ya should pack a bag and stay with me.”

  “I don’t think I can stay at the mansion,” she said.

  “Then at the motel with me,” Rory stated. “I want to check on Jim anyway.”

  “Jim?”

  “The puppy. I’m keeping him and naming him Jim.”

  Jennifer smiled. “That’s nice to hear the little guy is getting a home. I’ve been a little worried about him.”

  “As I was saying, if ya don’t want to stay in the mansion or the motel, I can take ya home, but I’ll stay there with ya. Wherever ya are, I’m there too. I’m not leaving ya alone.”

  Jennifer could not see Rory MacGregor living in a trailer with her, not after seeing his mansion of a house.

  “Don’t you think I broke the spell or possession or whatever when I refused to stab you? The anger hasn’t come back.”

  All it takes is a dash of destiny, and everything can change.

  Rory grinned. “Glad to hear ya no longer want to stab me, but it’s too soon to say whether or not it’s over.”

  Rory drove toward her house. She had to stop him from going past it since the last time he’d dropped her off she hadn’t shown in the actual location.

  “Park here,” she indicated, pointing to the curb.

  He glanced at the two-story house near where she indicated. “It looks charming.”

  “I’m sure it is for the people who live there.” Jennifer opened the car door and stepped onto the curb. She carried the latte and muffin with her. “Mine is this way.”

  Jennifer cut between the two houses toward the alleyway. She ate the muffin a little faster than in the car, letting crumbs fall on the ground. When they reached the trailer home, she frowned. “Crap. I think my key is back at the mansion.”

  Rory chuckled and lifted a finger. “Allow me.”

  He went to the latch and jiggled the handle. It opened.

  “If this whole billionaire warlock thing doesn’t work out for you, I think you have a real future as a locksmith.” She hesitated as she glanced into the open doorway.

  “It would have been more impressive if ya would have locked the door,” Rory said.

  Jennifer frowned. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. I ran out of here pretty quickly after hearing that creepy voice.”

  She remembered the money she’d left on the kitchen counter and hoped it was still there. If anyone tried the latch, she could have been out her tip money.

  Rory went into the home and instantly began inspecting the rooms for an intruder. Jennifer went to the kitchen and grabbed the wad of cash that was thankfully still lying where she’d left it.

  “All clear,” Rory called.

  “Thanks,” she answered. “Uh, just have a seat in the living room if you like. I won’t be but a minute.”

  His broader shoulders made the hallway leading past the bathroom feel small. Rory had to turn sideways to pass the washer. He went to sit on the couch.

  Jennifer frowned as she opened the washer. The wet clothes left to sit overnight had a slight musty smell to them. The intruder had disrupted her routine, and she hadn’t hung them over the shower rod to dry for her next shift.

  “Do they have a laundry room at the motel for guests?” Jennifer asked.

  “If they don’t, I have magick,” he answered.

  Jennifer went to the bedroom to pack a duffel bag. She shoved all her cash and what little jewelry she had into the side pocket.

  “Is this a picture of you with your dad?” Rory had found her one photo on the wall.

  “Yeah, and my brother,” Jennifer answered. She replaced his pajama pants with a pair of jeans and slipped on a pair of shoes. She put his pajamas in the bag to return later. “It’s the only picture I have of us all together.”

  “You were an adorable child,” he said.

  In many ways, that photo was the most valuable thing she owned.

  “Would you mind grabbing the picture for me?” she asked, setting her duffel bag on the counter and getting a small trash bag for her wet clothes. “I don’t feel right leaving it here if I’m not going to be coming back each night.”

  “Anything else?” He brought the framed photo to her.

  “No, that should about do it.” She put the picture in the bag and zipped it. “I just need to get my work clothes.”

  “When is your next shift?” he asked. “I’ll go in with ya.”

  At least he wasn’t trying to tell her she couldn’t work.

  “Tomorrow,” she answered. “That is if I still have a job after my performance last night. I was a freaking mess. I wouldn’t blame the boss if he docks my pay for all the wrong orders that were sent back to the kitchen.”

  “Ya were not a mess. Ya were lovely,” he said.

  “Tell that to the lady who never got her margarita,” Jennifer answered. She made sure to lock up as Rory carried her bags for her.

  The ride to the motel was quiet. Jennifer drank her latte while worrying about how she’d apologize to Kay about dropping the ball.

  At Hotel Motel, Maura appeared only too happy to put them in a room. She admitted that they were nowhere near capacity with the remodeling going on and had plenty of space. She gave them a room close to the parking lot so that they didn’t have to carry their bags too far.

  W
hen Rory unlocked the motel room door for them, he instantly recoiled. This time, instead of cherub butts, the theme was clowns.

  Nothing but pictures of happy smiling clowns, clown wallpaper, and carnival light fixtures. There was even a giant clown doll sitting in the middle of the bed.

  “Oh, hell no, Bruce,” Rory said, even though his twin wasn’t there to hear it. He instantly pulled the door shut. “Wait here. I’ll get us another room.”

  Rory ran back to the front office and returned minutes later with a key to the room next door.

  “Apparently, Maura didn’t know about the clown addition,” Rory said. His movements were stiff, and he flinched a little as he opened the door to look inside. He let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I’ll take commercial banality over creepy circus any day. Sometimes Bruce is a little too artistically strange for his own good.”

  What the motel room lacked in character, it made up for in a fresh coat of paint and new carpeting. The pastel landscape on the wall of desert sands and cacti was borderline uninteresting. It matched the delicate pattern of the comforter and a chair next to a small table.

  Jennifer found herself staring at the picture of the desert. Her vision blurred, and it looked as if the printed grains of sand were shifting and becoming darker. She blinked, but the idea remained, like a dream trying to peek through to reality.

  “Jennifer?” Rory asked.

  “What?” She forced her eyes away and found him next to the bathroom door staring at her.

  Rory slowly came toward her. “How are ya feeling? Is the anger coming back?”

  She shook her head. If anything, she felt sad. She never really talked about her mother and doing so had stirred a lot of feelings.

  He lifted his thumb and brushed it across her cheek. She felt it slide in moisture. When he pulled it away, he showed her a dark tear staining his thumb.

  Jennifer hurried into the bathroom to look into the mirror. Dark trails had leaked from her eyes down her face. She took several deep breaths, afraid to move in case the mud again filled her mouth. She lightly touched a tear and rubbed it between her fingers. There was a grainy texture to the moisture.