by T. M. Cromer
In a showy move, GiGi stood, swirled her hands, and morphed back into the tall, supple blonde she normally appeared to be.
“The sheriff left in a state, didn’t he?”
“I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that, would you?”
“I might have dropped the information bomb that your cats once belonged to Beatrice.”
“Why would you do that?” Summer asked, inexplicably hurt.
GiGi patted the cushioned seat next to her, and when Summer joined her, the other woman clasped her hand in her own smooth, elegant hand.
“It’s the order of things, dear heart.”
“What order?”
“All things will be revealed in time, Summer Thorne.”
Her aunt turned Summer’s palm skyward and traced the line running from the base of her middle finger to the outside edge of her pinky. An arc of purple light trailed across the line she’d traced. “You’ll only love the one, child. He needs to be worthy of you.”
“Why does he always make me feel like I’m the unworthy one?” Summer whispered tiredly and rested her head on her aunt’s shoulder.
“Because he’s a man, and men are dumb creatures.”
Summer snorted. “You ain’t lyin’, Aunt G.”
“Come. Let’s fix your father’s painting then eat some of that delicious apple pie I made for you.”
“Is the pie payment for your meddling?”
“Perhaps.” It was the closest her aunt would come to admitting she’d caused trouble.
“You know I adore you, right? Even with your never-ending need to interfere with my life.”
Summer’s statement was rewarded with a hug. “I adore you too, dear girl. In fact, you’re my favorite of all your sisters. But if you tell the others, I’ll know.”
“Of course, you’ll know. You spy on us constantly.”
“Well, I did promise your mother I’d look out for you all.”
“In case you can’t tell, Aunt G, we’re adults now. And the occasional visit to see if we are okay is a lot different than hovering above your mirror, scrying twenty-four-seven.”
Aunt GiGi giggled like a girl of fifteen. “How is an old woman supposed to live vicariously through all of you if you take away my only means of spying?”
“Ah, so you admit it!”
“I admit nothing.” The beautiful troublemaker smiled and winked. “But that kiss you shared with your young man in the barn near set fire to my altar.”
The heat of embarrassment near set fire to Summer’s skin.
“Come on, dear. The pie is getting cold. We’ll eat a slice first then tackle the painting.”
Like an obedient toddler, Summer wrapped her hand into the outstretched one before her and followed the mischief-maker into the kitchen. “I hope you brought two. I’m a stress eater, Aunt G.”
10
Eleven days passed. Coop should know, each one was endless.
Funny how he used to go out of his way to avoid Summer whenever possible. Yet now that he didn’t see her every morning, he’d experienced the sensation of being set adrift. A ship that had lost its mooring.
Coop found himself waking the same time every morning, lying in bed and ruminating on the fight with Summer. If he thought a standard apology would suffice, he’d have given one.
However, Summer’s disillusioned expression had spoken volumes.
Whatever flirtation they’d started, he murdered in the moment he’d accused her of using Beatrice’s cats for her own gains.
He was an idiot. No doubt about it.
The one thing he circled around to time and again was freezing on the landing. Maybe he needed to get a physical. Perhaps the doctor could tell him why, when he experienced a moment of panic, he seized up. If that happened in the line of duty, he was screwed with a capital S.
His door flew open, and a child-size tornado entered the room. “Uncle Coop! Uncle Coop!”
“You can turn it down three notches and I’ll still hear you, midget. I’m not deaf… yet.”
“Why do old people think they’re funny?” she asked.
“I don’t know. When I find an old person, I’ll ask them,” he retorted playfully.
“Dad wanted to know if you’d drive me over to Miss Spring’s house. Yesterday, she said I could help pick the flowers for Ryan’s sister’s wedding arrangements.”
Coop stilled. “Why can’t he take you?”
Keaton peeked his head in the door to answer for his daughter, “Mayoral duties.”
“You’ve been listening all along?”
Keaton grinned around his cup of coffee then took a sip.
“Can you? I want to pet Eddie,” Chloe begged and tugged on his arm.
“Seriously, it’s not a good idea for me to go to the Thorne estate, midget.”
Chloe’s dark head tilted to the side to study him. “Is that because you accused Miss Summer of stealing your wallet?”
Coop bit the inside of his cheek to keep swear words at bay. He shot a speaking look at Keaton. One that promised retribution. “I didn’t accuse Summer of stealing. I…” But he had. He’d threatened a warrant for goodness’ sake. He sighed and sat up, careful to keep the bedding covering his essentials. “I’ll tell you what. You go call Miss Spring and ask her if it’s all right if you come assist her in the garden today. Let them know I’ll be the one bringing you by. If it’s still okay, I’ll take you.”
“Okay, Uncle Coop.” She ran off to do his bidding.
“Mayoral duties? On a Saturday? That’s the best you could come up with?” Coop asked dryly.
Keaton shrugged.
“Weren’t you the one trying to warn me off Summer eleven days ago?”
“Eleven? You know exactly how many days it’s been since we discussed it?”
Coop grunted. Not only did he know the days, he knew down to the minute since he’d last seen Summer. He was a sap. Worse than a chick.
But he missed her. Missed her bubbling laughter. Missed the mock scolding when he’d teased her. Missed seeing the sweat bead on her brow and her wipe it away with her forearm during a hard morning of work. More than once, he’d fantasized about sweat on her body for an entirely different reason.
Yep, he was worse than a chick.
“Did you eat or drink anything while you were there?” Keaton asked, suspicion heavy in his voice.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Did you eat or drink anything any of the women made?”
His brother was deranged. “Keat—”
“I’m not kidding, Cooper. Answer the damned question!”
The intensity in his brother’s query made Coop stand up and take notice. “What’s going on, Keaton?”
“I can’t say,” Keaton ground out. “I can’t…” His brother’s gaze sharpened as he spotted the notepad by the bed, and he smiled grimly. “But maybe I can write it.”
Coop shrugged into a shirt and shorts as he waited for Keaton to write the explanation of his weird behavior.
Finally, after he’d read through what he’d written twice, Keaton handed Coop the notepad. “Here.”
The paper was blank. Coop turned the empty page outward. “Uh, Keat? What’s up, man?”
Keaton turned gray and stared at the paper in shock. Mouth compressed, he shook his head and stalked toward the hall. Before disappearing, he snarled, “You may want to ask Summer when you see her today.” Taking a deep breath in, he exhaled. “I might not be able to reveal the truth, but there isn’t any reason she can’t explain what she is.”
With one last tortured look, Keaton left.
His brother’s vehemence held him immobile. This was unlike the paralysis at Summer’s. No, this was more of a shock. Coop shook his head and stared down at the pad of paper in his hand. Indentations in the paper caught his attention.
He almost yelled for Keaton to return but decided to try a trick he’d learned somewhere along the way in his career. Probably a late-night episode of CSI or Mo
nk.
A quick search of the desk drawer by the window turned up a pencil. Holding the tip perpendicular to the paper, he softly rubbed the lead across the indentations. It provided a negative image and made the words plain.
Cooper’s eyes bulged when he read what Keaton had written.
The Thorne sisters are witches.
Real, honest-to-God witches.
Be careful, C.C. Please.
Was this Keaton’s idea of a joke?
Coop found Keaton on the pool deck, overlooking the back forty. “Keaton!” He held up the notepad. “What the hell is this?”
The bleakness dropped from Keaton’s face, replaced by a dawning sense of wonder. “You brilliant bastard!”
“Are you for real right now? Because I don’t find this funny.”
“I’m completely serious. Autumn confessed back when we were dating. She showed me what she could do. It was terrifying.” Keaton’s eyes widened. “It’s gone. You broke her spell! I can speak about it.” He threw back his head and laughed with wonder. With a fist skyward, he shouted, “Yes!”
The very real fear that his brother had taken a dive off the deep end grabbed Coop and refused to let go. “Uh, Keat. You know there’s no such thing as witches, right?”
Solemn again, Keaton snorted and shook his head. “I know how all this sounds. I’m not crazy, C.C. I swear I’m not.”
After studying Keaton for a minute, he said, “Get in the car. Knox can watch Chloe. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
A kernel of suspicion popped in his mind. If Keaton was telling the truth, if witches did indeed exist, could that explain why he’d been locked in place? Remembering back, Summer had made an odd gesture with her fist, as if… Sonofabitch! She’d slammed him into the wall without ever touching him!
“You’re not lying,” he whispered hoarsely.
“No, C.C. I’m not lying, and this isn’t a joke.”
“Why?” Coop swallowed audibly. “Why would you allow Chloe around them to pick flowers?”
“Because Spring seems to be the normal one.”
“Seems to be or is?” he demanded.
Keaton didn’t have any answers.
But Coop damned well intended to get a few—from the witches themselves. “Are you coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. I’ve got your back.”
Summer eyed the range clock. Seven forty-five. She’d overslept for the second time in her life since opening her sanctuary.
Last night had been a particularly fun one.
She, along with her two sisters and Aunt GiGi, had teleported to visit Autumn in Maine.
There had been wine, chocolate, and lots of laughter. So much so, Summer couldn’t recall returning home after the fact.
Spring bound into the room, her usually sunny self. “Good morning, sister.”
Summer grabbed her skull between her palms and pressed. “Not so loud. Please,” she croaked.
“You didn’t take any of Aunt GiGi’s elixir when we got home, did you?”
“I forgot.” She refused to say aloud that the elixir tastes like liquid dirt and was avoided at all costs.
“Mmm, yeah, well now you have to deal with the consequences of the wine and the teleport. Poor thing.”
If her sister had been in the least bit condescending or mocking, Summer would’ve tried her hand at turning her into a toad. As it was, she settled for a bleary-eyed glare.
“Want me to…” Spring wiggled her fingers in the direction of the barn.
“Goddess, yes! Think it would be okay just this once?”
“Twice,” Winnie inserted as she breezed into the room. “This would be the second time. But it’s to benefit the animals, so I say go for it.”
Summer sighed her gratitude and dropped her head to the wooden table. “I love you both so much.”
The sound of a vehicle tearing down the gravel drive brought her head back up. She winced at the sudden movement. “Who could that be at this hour?”
“It’s Cooper and Keaton,” Winnie said from where she leaned over the sink to peer out the front window. “I wonder if everything’s okay?”
Summer groaned. “Can someone check the monitor and make sure Eddie is in his pen? I need another minute before fishing him out of their pool if he’s escaped.”
Two car doors slammed.
“Summer Thorne! Get out here!” Cooper shouted.
“I don’t think you have another minute,” muttered Spring.
Summer popped up and raced to the window.
Cooper stood posed with his hands on his hips, infuriated as she’d never seen him. What the hell did he have to be mad about?
Beside him, Keaton wore a look of unease. His eyes darted about, as if he expected to be attacked from all sides.
“They look like they’re prepared for a shootout at the O.K. Corral,” Spring giggled.
Summer turned on her sister in stunned amazement. “What is it about six-feet of furious male that you find amusing, Spring?”
“What can they really do?”
Summer’s jaw dropped. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
What could they really do? When faced with the power of three witches, at most, the men could bluster and yell. Coop and Keaton couldn’t physically hurt them. It would only take one thought to stop the men in their tracks if it came to that.
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Summer?”
She pivoted around in the entry at Winnie’s call. “What?”
“You might want to put on a bra and pants. Unless you hope to distract Coop with the t-shirt and undies outfit.”
Summer ducked and scrambled to cover herself as if the men were standing in front of her half-naked form.
Both sisters laughed at the ridiculousness of her gesture.
Flipping them the bird, she raised her hands and swirled them about. The 1970s hot pink pants were an eyesore and clashed abominably with her yellow top, but hungover witches unable to control their powers couldn’t be picky.
Her sisters’ laughter trailed her out the door.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Cooper asked, aghast.
A quick look down reaffirmed she was completely covered. “Is that why you stopped by, Sheriff? To criticize my early morning wardrobe choice?”
Steely eyes mere slits, he stormed forward.
And damned if liquid heat didn’t pool between her thighs.
The angry alpha male mantle suited Coop. Made him every woman’s wet dream come to life. Muscles bulging, color high, hair mussed, passionate. So very passionate.
Oh, the angry sex they could have.
Summer nearly melted into a pool of desire on the spot. Her breathing kicked up in speed and she licked her lips.
“C.C.,” Keaton warned. “Be careful. She’s planning something.”
All three sisters gawked at Keaton in confusion.
Planning something? What the hell was she planning other than to beg Coop to drag her up to the hayloft and have his wicked way with her?
Her confusion ratcheted up when Coop stepped protectively in front of his brother and placed a hand on the grip of his weapon.
Obviously, she’d missed something, but her pounding head refused to allow her to piece the puzzle together. “What’s going on, Coop?” she asked as she took a step forward. As one, the men stepped back.
They’re afraid of us!
Summer hadn’t realized she spoke her thoughts aloud until Coop’s chin came up and red crept along his neck.
But in the end, he didn’t lower his hand from his weapon. “Keaton informed me of some disturbing facts this morning. I’m here to get to the bottom of it.”
“What might those facts be, Cooper?” she asked in a quiet, controlled tone which seemed to surprise everyone, herself included.
His cheeks took on the red hue of his neck. “He said you were witches. Real, honest-to-God spell-casting witches.”
She maintained eye contact, although it was a
n effort. “That’s correct.”
If she’d have let Morty hit him with the bat, he couldn’t have looked more stunned. His hand spasmed on the grip of his gun.
With a silent prayer of “please let the safety be on” to the Goddess, Summer stepped forward again.
“You’re not going to deny it?” he asked, incredulous.
She shrugged. “Why? It’s true.”
“Summer,” Winnie warned as Summer took another step.
“In the barn, then again on the stairs, was that you?” Coop demanded.
He appeared two seconds away from losing his breakfast.
“Yes,” she admitted with another step.
“Jesus.” The sickly expression worsened. “Don’t come any closer, Summer,” he warned and unclipped the leather strap holding the weapon in the holster.
Was it wrong to wish he’d pull the trigger and end her misery? Here she was, in love with a man who now despised her, feared her, and saw her as some kind of monster. “Are you going to shoot me, Coop?” she asked softly.
Autumn materialized in front of her. Cooper had his gun drawn and aimed before any of the women could think to freeze his actions.
Surprisingly, the quickest to react was Keaton, who shoved Coop’s arm skyward just as he pulled the trigger.
Summer fell to her knees, sick at what might’ve happened had Keaton not acted to prevent a tragedy.
“Morty, no!”
Her head whipped around at Spring’s alarmed cry.
Morty, enraged and feral, charged straight for Cooper.
From deep within, a power Summer didn’t know she possessed or had been too scared to tap took over. Her insides seemed to shift alignment, and her cells lit, burning within. She flung up her glowing hands. “Stop!”
Time itself froze.
No one moved. Not her sisters, each locked in a horrified stupor; not Morty, who was frozen mid-leap; not Coop who had redirected his gun to point at Morty’s chest; and not Keaton who, oddly enough, was staring at Autumn as if he feared for her safety.
Only Summer could move. And she did, directly in the path of Coop’s gun, to stop Morty’s attack.