by Jane Jamison
Had anyone else Reagan’s size stood up to the bearded giant, Shelby might’ve scoffed. At least inwardly. Yet somehow she had the impression that Reagan could hold her own with almost anyone, including Bull.
“I’m always nice to tourists.” He wiped down the counter. “Especially pretty ones.”
Was Bull coming on to her? He wasn’t her type at all, but she appreciated a nice compliment. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” The lift of his lips—was that a smile?—fell as he shot the finger at a man yelling for service at the other end of the counter. “Fuck off, Dilton. I’ll get to you when I get to you.” His dark gaze settled on Shelby. “You stay safe, you hear? Don’t let the werewolves bite you.”
“Werewolves?” Shelby glanced around, trying to pick out any shifters. Although one shifter might sense, even smell, another shifter’s presence, she couldn’t.
Reagan slugged back a long swig. “Sure. Remember the stories? We’ve got werewolves, werecats, werebirds, all kinds of weres. Not to mention vampires, faeries, witches, and wizards.”
“I didn’t think he’d mention werewolves like that. As though he believes they’re real.” She hurried to add, “Which, of course, they aren’t. It’s like you said earlier. The stories are just a show for the tourists, right?”
Reagan seemed flummoxed. Had she messed up? “You got it. It’s all part of the West End experience.”
“Right.” Suddenly, she needed to be alone, to regroup. “I’m going to use the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”
Reagan pointed down a long hallway. “Hurry back or I might get too far ahead of you.” She tipped the bottle up again.
“You probably will, anyway. I’m not a big drinker.” Shelby pushed her way through the crowd and made her way down the long corridor. Halfway there, however, she ran into a thin woman with slicked-back black hair.
“Hi there. Welcome to West End.”
Shelby had just stepped past the woman as she spoke then turned back to answer. “Thanks. But how’d you know I was visiting?”
“Because I’ve never seen you before. I’m Miranda Custon, owner of the Blue Moon Diner. I hope you’ll stop by sometime.”
“Thanks. I might just do that.”
The cat’s snarl caught her by surprise. Spinning around, Shelby saw what she’d hoped she wouldn’t see. A cougar, obviously a werecat judging by its enormous size, crouched at the end of the hallway. Its white fangs showed bright even in the dimly lit area.
Without thinking, Shelby lifted her hands, ready to cast a spell of defense. She caught herself as the first phrase of the spell left her lips. Clenching her hands, she forced them to her sides.
“Get out of here, Charlie. You know you’re not supposed to change inside the bar. Besides, can’t you see you’re interrupting a private conversation?”
The cougar snarled again then threw its huge body at the back door, knocking it open. It bounded into the night. The door slammed closed behind it.
Shelby’s breathing grew more regular as she slowly pivoted to face Miranda. “I can’t believe it. A wild animal? Right here inside the bar. I mean, I’ve heard the stories, but I didn’t think they were real.”
Miranda lifted one eyebrow. “Don’t you go trying to fool me. I saw how you reacted.”
Hell’s bells. I haven’t been here a full day and my secret’s already out.
“Of course I reacted. I was ready to run when you scared him off. Weren’t you afraid? I thought he’d attack us for sure. We’ve got to warn the others.” Her words rushed out of her as she tried to push past Miranda, but the woman grabbed her arm and kept her there.
“It’s no use trying, little witchy. I saw what you started to do, and I know what you are.”
Chapter Two
Hell’s bells.
Shelby wasn’t sure what to do. She’d already blown her cover as a human tourist. Miranda knew what she was. Still, she tried to deny it. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Please. I’m not a fool.” She leaned closer and whispered in Shelby’s ear. “It takes one to know one.” Straightening up, she added, “Although, truthfully, I might not have known if I hadn’t seen you start to spell the cat.”
Shelby drew in a steadying breath. “Please don’t tell anyone. I really don’t want people to know what I am.”
“You can say it. After all, it’s not a dirty word. You’re a witch.” She paused, her eyes glittering with glee. “Just like me.”
“You’re a witch, too?” She paused to study the woman. “I mean, sure, it makes sense now.”
“So relax, will you? From one witch to another, you’re safe.”
“Okay.” She let out a long breath. But was she really safe? Or would Miranda let everyone know what she was, including Reagan?
“What’s your name?”
“Shelby Winters. Just so you know, I’m not planning on staying long, and I don’t want any trouble. I swear I won’t do any magic, either. Unless I have to.”
Miranda wrapped her arm around Shelby’s shoulder in a comforting big-sister kind of way. “Now why wouldn’t I want you to do magic? Hell’s bells, you’re a witch. Be proud of it. Besides, if there’s any place safe for a witch in this world, it’s West End.”
“That’s good to know, but still, I’d rather not let it get around.”
“They won’t find out from me. But, remember, secrets always come out sooner or later.”
Miranda was right, but Shelby had to hope that at least one of her secrets would remain hidden.
“I take it you don’t like shifters much. But whatever your feelings, don’t go throwing your magic at them. Take Old Charlie, for instance. He’s as old as the hills, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Trust me. His growl is a lot worse than his bite. Truth be told, he doesn’t have many teeth left, and his claws are as brittle as a dry leaf. The worst he could do would be to lick you to death.” Miranda’s kind expression faded a little. “I’m glad you stopped when you did. I hate to think I would’ve had to stop you.”
Was that a warning?
“What do you have against shifters anyway? Some of the best people around these parts are shifters.”
She was pushing, and Shelby didn’t like to be pushed. Still, she had to be careful. If her witch’s intuition was right, Miranda was a strong witch with many years of experience behind her. Maybe if she told her the truth, she’d understand.
In the end, she opted to keep quiet. “I don’t like shifters, but I don’t go out of my way to hate them, either. Old Charlie startled me is all.”
“Uh-huh.”
That was a definite I don’t believe you uh-huh.
She put on a lighter face. “Thank goodness you were here, even if I did manage to stop myself.”
“Yes, thank goodness. But enough of what might have happened. Tell me about yourself and why you’re visiting our little island.” Miranda shifted gears as she escorted her to the ladies’ room. She still held on to Shelby’s arm, not letting her go inside. “Where are you staying? At one of the hotels or in a rental home?”
“I’m staying with Reagan Legacy. I’m not a friend—or at least I wasn’t until we met on the ferry—but she’s letting me stay with her since everything else is booked.”
“Reagan has a kind heart. She’d take in all the strays in the world if she could.” Miranda’s laugh was a hearty, nice sound. “Not that you’re a stray. You’re a very welcomed visitor. The more witches on the island, the better, as far as I’m concerned. In fact, why don’t you join my coven during our next moon dance? I promise everyone’s very friendly. There are no dark magic witches at all.” Her face clouded. “At least not in my coven.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t. I mean…” How could she decline without sounding rude? “I came here to get away for a while. You know. To take some time for myself.”
“Ah, so you’re looking for privacy.” Yet the older woman’s gaze penetrated her, searching for the real reason for her visit.
Relief flooded her when Miranda didn’t ask another question. “Exactly. So, thank you for the invitation, but I’m going to pass
“Okay. No problem. I understand. But I should warn you.”
Shelby stiffened. “Warn me? About…?”
“West End is a small town. Privacy will be very hard to come by and even harder to keep.” At last, Miranda released her arm. “So if you have any problems with the locals bugging you, you be sure and let me know, okay?”
She relaxed. A little. “Thanks. I might take you up on the offer.”
“You do that. And remember. Stop on by the diner. Your first meal is on the house.” Miranda winked then gracefully heeled around and headed down the hallway, her long skirt swaying with her walk.
“Thanks,” called Shelby. She waited until the witch disappeared into the crowd before going inside the ladies’ room. Leaning against the door, she let the tension roll out of her.
“Shit. Maybe I shouldn’t have come.” But if she left the bar now, what would she say to Reagan? She was stuck anyway since the next ferry wouldn’t depart until tomorrow morning. The only thing she could do was to convince Reagan to go home sooner rather than later. The way her new friend was drinking, however, it might take a lot of convincing.
By the time she returned to the bar, Reagan was nowhere to be found. Maybe she was the one who should be worried? Had she left her? If so, how would she get back to the ranch? Did the island have a taxi service? A bus?
“Don’t worry none. Reagan’s out on the dance floor.” Bull nodded toward the center of the room filled with dancers.
The bar was so crowded that it was difficult to see where the dance floor ended and the rest of the floor began. He winked then was off to the far end of the counter, ready to take another drink order.
“You might as well relax and enjoy yourself. Knowing Reagan, she might be out there for a while.”
The voice was like good whiskey flowing over cold ice, marking a trail of warmth along the way. The man with the voice was drop-dead gorgeous, a woman’s wet dream if she’d ever seen one.
He placed his drink on top of the counter then put his hands on her hips. “Name’s Taylor Legacy. And your name is…”
Bull answered from the other side before she could. “She’s Shelby Winters and a friend of Reagan’s. Watch yourself with her, or Reagan will have your head.”
Hell’s bells. Did he have to shout like that?
Light brown eyes sparkled as he studied her. “I thought I knew all of Reagan’s friend. How the hell did I miss meeting you?”
Bull was back. Was he trying to protect her? “She’s new. Straight off the ferry.”
Taylor tugged her against him, her chest pushing against his oh-so-hard abs. “Is that right?”
“Not exactly.” Bull had made it sound as though she was a new resident. “I’m only visiting. I’m a tourist.”
Disappointment flooded his face. “A tourist? Are you sure?” His hungry gaze slipped lower then back up. “It would be a damn shame if we couldn’t get someone who looks like you to move here.” His brilliant smile widened. “Maybe I can convince you to stay.”
“No. I—” Her words were lost as he suddenly swept one arm around her waist and pulled her along with him.
“Let’s dance, pretty lady.” He took her hand and swung her around, an expert on the dance floor.
She’d never been much of a dancer, but he made the moves seem easy. Before she could think to object, she was laughing and enjoying herself.
“See? You’re already in the flow of things.” He began a new series of steps. “Follow me and you can’t go wrong.”
She did, trying not to look down at her feet any more than she had to. The steps weren’t too complicated, reminding her of a modified quick-step, a dance she’d learned taking lessons in college.
They moved as one, Taylor leading with Shelby’s body listening to his as he guided her around the floor. Other dancers swirled around them, including Reagan with a handsome blond man. Reagan shot her a thumbs-up and then was lost as Taylor spun Shelby in a fast circle.
By the time the jukebox music ended and the next song began, Shelby was doing her best to catch her breath.
“Having fun, pretty lady?”
“I am. You’re a great dancer. Did you take lessons?” How could any woman dancing with a man like him not have fun? Even Miranda finding out she was a witch couldn’t dampen her spirits any longer.
“Lesson? Me? Hell no.” His arms slipped over her hips, his hands resting over her butt cheeks. “Besides, who needs lessons when I have a partner like you?”
He was a flatterer, but she didn’t mind. Nope. She didn’t mind one bit. “I’m pretty rusty.”
“I sure can’t tell it if you are.” He pulled her closer. “You’re nice and smooth.”
“Thanks.” Heat that had nothing to do with the crowded room swept over her. His crotch pressed against her abdomen, tempting her to look down. Somehow she resisted.
The song was an old country tune she hadn’t heard in years. “Is all the music in the jukebox older songs?” And who still used a jukebox?
“Yeah, most of them.” He tightened his hold on her. “I guess we’re kind of old-fashioned around here. Then again, classics aren’t called classics without good reason. Time-tested and all that. Why? Do you dance to other music where you come from?” He tilted his head. “Where do you come from?”
“New York City.”
“Well, that explains it then. The Big Apple. I’ll bet you’re used to all kinds of music.”
“Yes, the city has about everything a girl could ever want.”
“Everything?”
She met his gaze and knew without a doubt that he wasn’t talking about music any longer. “Well, maybe not everything.”
“Taylor.” Miranda came beside them, swaying along with them as she whispered in his ear.
A flash of something in his eyes came and went so fast Shelby wasn’t sure she’d seen it.
Had the witch told him about her? She waited, unsure what to say. Would he still dance with her if he knew what she was? Yet that question begged one of her own.
Was he human? Or something else?
Please let him be a wizard.
If he was anything else, she’d be disappointed. If he was anything else, she’d push him away and leave.
“A penny for your thoughts? Although I guess with inflation, it’d be more like a dollar.”
Had he somehow guessed what she was thinking? Was he trying to get some kind of confession after Miranda whispered to him?
“Nothing special. Just that I’m having fun.”
“Good. I want you to have fun. Lots of fun.”
There was that devilish twinkle in his eyes again. The realization that she could fall for a twinkle in the eye came as a shock. She mentally then physically stepped back.
“Hey, where are you going?” He had his hands on her hips again. With a quick thrust, he brought her forward again, bumping her against him.
The movement reminded her too much of another kind of move she’d like to do with him. To him. Frazzled, she spoke without thinking. “Do you believe there really are werewolves on the island?”
She’d thrown him, at least for a moment. “You’re asking me if the stories are true.”
She could have, should have chosen any other topic. Why had she brought it back to the stories? Because her mind had been focused on what Miranda might have told him? Or scrambled from being so close to him?
“Are they?”
“I’ve seen my fair share of strange things.”
He was halfway dodging her question. “Like?”
They moved together, instinctively now, as though they’d danced in a previous lifetime. “I don’t know. Big-ass bears, huge wolves, strange things in the sky.”
“Strange things in the sky? Like what? Like dragons?” Maybe she could get him to admit he was a wizard. If she could, then maybe, just maybe, she might admit
to being a witch. Unless, of course, Miranda had already filled him in.
“Sorry. No dragons.”
“Do you believe in magic?”
“Magic?” He glanced behind her before answering. “Sure. I think there’s magic everywhere.” He touched her hair, brushing a wisp away from her cheek. “You have magic, you know.”
Her heart thudded faster. “I do?”
“Sure you do.” He rubbed a strand of hair between his fingers. “You have magic here.” His thumb skimmed over her lips. “And here.”
“That’s not what I was asking and you know it.”
“And here.”
His lips against hers made everything, everyone around them vanish. Instead, the world suddenly consisted only of the wild emotions tumbling inside her. Her pulse sped up. Butterflies came to life in her stomach. Wetness flooded her pussy. When he pulled back, she almost moaned her complaint.
She struggled to stay on her feet. The man had a way with words. A way she had little resistance to fight. “Thank you. For the compliments, I mean.”
A small lift of the corners of his mouth enticed her. “The island’s stories are like any others you hear around the world. Some are based in fact but have been exaggerated. Others are flat-out imaginative tales passed down to amuse the tourists.”
“So you’re saying there aren’t any real supernaturals in West End? Including wizards?”
“Wizards, huh? So are wizards your favorites?”
“I don’t have a favorite.” He’d sidestepped her question, yet she dared to get closer to her own truth. “But I do like magic.”
“But is it only wizards you like? How about the other stories? I hear werewolves are big in romance books nowadays.”
She shook her head. “No thanks. I can’t see a romance where the heroine falls in love with a hairy animal.”
He scowled, obviously not liking her answer. “You do know they aren’t hairy all the time, don’t you? And it’s actually fur. Most of the time, they’re men and women like you and me.”