"Here." He reached up and pulled the box down. As she took it from him her hand brushed his, sending a jolt of magic through him.
"Sorry," she said. Her eyes didn't meet his.
She was powerful, maybe not in the sense like a shifter was, but he could feel the river of her magic flowing through him. He titled his head to one side then the next, she was a high like a drug, and his body craved it. His bear sniffed at the air. Damn if that wasn't a turn-on. If a simple touch of her hand could do that to him, what would she do if she completely let go?
Marci was already halfway down the path. He grabbed down two boxes and followed her in, thankful for the distance.
"What kind of witch did you say you were?" he asked.
She glanced back. "I didn't say. My mother wouldn't be proud of you asking; I am an embarrassment. I'm not good at spells or casting, but when it comes to lost things I am your go to. I had my own business before moving here." Her breathing labored as she climbed the stairs.
"I need to take a break. I think this box is a bunch of my books."
He nodded. Marci made it halfway up the stairs and stalled.
"I can come back for it once I get these up there. Why don't you go check on Hazel." He was hoping she wouldn't follow him up; he didn't want to be in a room with her - alone.
He sniffed at the static in the air. Something wasn't right, then again it never felt right. He tried to see anything, but there was nothing visible. What the hell was the energy from? Before he could process the blur flying away from where Marci stood, what was about to happen hit him .
Marci propped the box on a step, her shin balancing it." He dropped the boxes at the foot of the stairs as he watched it all unfold.
"Don't move Marci; there's something here," he shouted too late. His heart flew to his throat. Shit.
"Oh." Was all Marci got out as she spilled backward with a crack of wood.
He raced around the railing just in time to catch her before she hit the floor.
"Are you okay?"
Her eyes, as large as saucers, looked back and forth between him and the railing. She finally spoke. "I think so."
He tried to smile, but it was more a grimace. "Up until now, I couldn't figure out why I had to fix this damn thing. The Lowensteins never said much - but I think maybe you just met your ghost. I've never felt anything like that before."
What had he done? He wanted someone to run the place so he could attract business for winter tourism and they needed a B&B for that. He'd just wanted to run an outdoor adventure company, not a hardware store. He hadn't expected a beautiful, young, woman to answer the ad. Granted, he wasn't sure an older person would be able to survive the tricks of the old building. He'd always blamed the pixies, but they hated the human world, and after learning more about the protections of the town, he had to start seeing the obvious - maybe there was more to this place than what he'd been told.
"You can put me down now."
Caleb dropped her to her feet like she was a hot coal.
"Thanks?" Her words seemed confused; her eyes narrowed.
"Yeah. Sure. Sorry."
"Do I scare you or something?"
He crossed his arms over his chest and stood taller. "What? No. Why? Maybe."
"Whatever. Thank you for saving my life."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caleb said nothing.
"Right." She clapped her hands together and clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "Okay. Got it. So that's probably the ghost then. Noted. Let's get the rest of my stuff."
Caleb heard her, but thoughts were spinning at the word ghost. The Lowensteins had left in a hurry, after mishaps that had occurred one after the other.
"Strange." Marci looked up towards where he'd thought he'd seen the wisp of the ghost.
Nothing there now, but the energy still lingered. Caleb didn't like this place, and he didn't like Marci staying here.
"If there's a ghost, maybe you shouldn't stay here. Not until I can find out more." Her hands were on her hips again. He was a colossal fuck-up.
"It's just a ghost. They can't hurt you."
He knit his brow together. "You sure about that?"
"Yes. I am," Marci's words faltered. "Although, I guess in this case the sabotage of the banister would have resulted in harm. It's fine. I have some wards that I always keep with me. I've run into some bizarre things. I had a run in with a demon once; it was fine."
That didn't sound promising. "Okay. I don't like the idea of you here, alone."
Marci pushed up the piece of railing that looked more like beautiful latticework than a safety device. "You can fix this tomorrow?"
He grunted as he realized she was ignoring him.
He didn't want another fight, but he did want her safe. Being here tomorrow he could at least check on her.
The damn woman was so under his skin he didn't know what way was up anymore.
7
Marci's eyes fluttered at the annoying light prodding her to open them. The prick of cold gave her instant frostbite the moment her toes peeked from under the covers. Yanking her foot back, she snuggled deeper into her down comforter.
"So cold. It's so cold here."
The gentle cooing around her the reminder that she had a chicken sleeping in her bedroom. "At least you're quiet in the mornings." She shivered. Focusing on a spell, she tried to project the energy to the fireplace. Nothing. She tried again. At least this time some smoke wafted up.
"Alright, I still suck at that. Maybe I'll find some matches."
A deep breath and the count of three, she tossed the blankets aside. The air instantly hit, and she shivered. "Nope." She jumped back under the blankets.
Her phone chirped in the corner; she didn't think there was anyone in her life worth answering for right now. Not until she could get up without icicles forming in her nose hairs. Using her magic, she mentally sifted through the boxes until she found her sweaters. Third box on the right. That was just poor planning.
"Hazel, didn't we turn the furnace on? Apparently, that needs to be added to crap to fix."
Marci tucked the comforter around her, her face the only thing visible. How long could she hold her bladder before having to get out of the bed? She grumbled at the deceptive sun, shining all cheery in the window, and yet the air felt like Jack Frost making camp in her room.
Puffs of smoke wafted in the air as she breathed. Nothing around her seemed out of place, nothing stirred, but this wasn't normal.
Hazel went from a cooing chicken to wings flapping and raised, squawking as if something had just poked her. The box Hazel roosted in for the night suddenly overturned. She flap-hopped out of the way onto the bed.
"Come here, girl." What the hell?
She pulled the blankets closer and tried to catch a glimpse of something, anything. Her skin dotted in goosebumps as inhuman giggles floated through the room.
Great. The ghost. A small orb twinkled around the chicken and then disappeared.
The room warmed marginally, Marci's breath no longer a cloud in front of her.
First, the house needed to get fixed. Her bank account sat squarely at the front of her mind and the fact her savings wouldn't last long. Next time she had a life crisis and panicked, she should probably ask a few more questions.
Flopping back onto the pillows, the itch of magic bubbled deep within her. She was supposed to be here. Now she just needed to make it all work.
Several moments passed. Hazel happily pecked at the floor, shavings scattered everywhere. The ghost moved on, for now.
"Right. House first. Ghost second. No. Heat first."
Her feet prickled with the chill of the floor as she made a beeline to the box that lit up like a beacon in her mind.
The doorbell rang and she jumped. Hazel fluttered and squawked, running in a circle - again. This damn chicken might have a heart attack.
"I need to get her a house outside.
Ripping open the box, she grabbed out her boots sitting on top. She
dropped her blanket and shoved her feet into the boots. Pushing a few more items around, she found a cardigan and hat. Pants would have been nice, but the doorbell rang again.
Well, for crap sake. Her sleep shorts weren't much, but anyone dumb enough to come over at this hour didn't deserve pants. Feeling out who was at the door, her senses said it was Caleb. Her eyes widened at the truth.
Why? Why would I want to know about him?
A shiver ran up her spine - right, she'd want him to fix the heater.
Her boots clunked with each step. She reached for the doorknob and turned; nothing happened. The door groaned in protest. She yanked again. Momentum had her backpedaling as her eyes fixed on the object in her hand.
Doorknob. Hand. Crap.
She did a double take. First at the door and then at her hand. "Seriously? Did this just happen?"
"Marci? Hello?"
The familiar sound of Caleb's voice muffled through the thick wood. She scrambled to her feet and started banging on the door. The creak of stairs answered.
"In here. I'm in here. I'm locked in my own bedroom." She closed her eyes and thunked her head against the door. Laughter spilled out, beating her tears to the punch.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"What's not to be okay about?" She took a few steps back and flopped onto her bed, the laughter slowly dissipating. Breathing in deeply, she slumped.
"Marci? Stand back."
She shrugged. "Sure. I'm back."
With a quick crack, the door flung open. Caleb filled the frame, a dark shadow in the hall. As he stood there, she got a glimpse of the bear shifter he claimed to be.
"Are you okay?" He ran his hands along the grain of the wood on the door frame. "The door sticks, but that's never happened before."
She shrugged. "Probably the ghost."
Entering, he walked the perimeter of the room. "It's like forty degrees in here. It might be warmer outside."
"Yup. I noticed the cold already. Again. Probably the ghost."
He finally stopped and looked at her. "Was the ghost here? Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I suppose so. Except for the freezing cold. I thought we turned on the furnace before you left last night?"
His eyes raked over her, causing a shiver entirely different from before.
"What are you wearing?"
She couldn't stop herself from watching his lips move. A shiver independent of the cold racked her. The heat of his kiss, a memory she'd never forget. Of course, his bossy attitude would also be something she wouldn't soon forget.
Her breathing grew shallow as she fought the sensation to follow her instincts and go to him. It wasn't real though. Was it? Annie's words haunted her. Spell. The knowledge that someone had further meddled in her life salted her open wounds.
"I'll uh, go look at the thermostat and maybe you can put some more layers on." He started to walk across the room, stepping over her.
"What? I'm wearing shorts and a cardigan. I was too tired to bother finding anything else. Why does it bother you? I don't match or something? I'm not sure I like your tone. Where are you going?"
His eyes grew wide. "Look. I don't need a fight. I just figured you'd be less cold if you were wearing more than that though. Heading to the thermostat ..."
She tilted her feet back and forth admiring the boots -- anything to pull her focus away from the confusion in her head.
"Yeah. Sure. Heat would be good. Sorry. I'm just trying to work everything out."
"Like what? The heat? I'll get it figured out."
She looked up. "No. Did you hear Annie say that spells were unpredictable? What did that mean?"
He chewed his bottom lip for a second. "Yeah. I heard her. I don't know what to think of it.
Shaking his head, he moved to a small box on the wall. "The rooms each have a baseboard heater, not a furnace. It's a little pricey, so you'll rely on the fireplaces when possible. I turned it on last night, but I guess I didn't exactly tell you what I was doing." He tapped the dial. "You didn't turn it off last night though, so who did?
Marci got up and walked over to him. "I know I didn't. It was strange though, this morning. The ghost came in here, and the temperature was freezing even after it left."
"Right. So I guess, I'd be a little more worried about this ghost than I'd previously thought." He turned the dial. "The thing was off."
She tried to think back to what she knew about ghosts. Her grandma had been big on respecting the dead. Witches and lots of other paranormal beings always left bits and pieces of themselves, but they weren't actually ghosts. Ghosts were something very different.
"I did forget to put out the herbs that I usually keep around. Maybe I'll do that tonight." She took a step away from him, his musky scent and the energy between them making her forget her frustrations and insecurities. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad except she couldn't figure him out. He ran hot and cold, and her life was already a mess.
He backed away from the wall unit. "There are a few pellet stoves on the main floor. I'll go deal with those then start on the railing."
She lifted a brow. "What's a pellet stove?"
"Stove's similar to a fireplace, but they are safer and burn wooden pellets. The shed out back should have quite a few. If not, I stock them at the store."
Right. Caleb wasn't her friend. He was doing this as a business.
"Right. Of course. What do I owe you? For everything? Will I get a quote for the door?"
She couldn't read him. Her magic traced him from a distance, timid and bouncing along him. She could see he had secrets, or well, something he didn't want to tell her anyway.
"What? Nothing. The door I'll fix since I broke it. I stacked wood out by the kitchen door. Just get this place up and running. I'll be downstairs when you're, uh, dressed."
Narrowing her eyes as he walked away, she called after him, "I am dressed."
His voice muted as he mumbled down the hall. "Girl gone wild videos show less skin."
Her face heated and she wanted to slam the door, only it wasn't attached to the wall anymore.
Whatever. If Caleb had a problem with her well-endowed cleavage and thighs, then he could screw himself. She snorted.
A man like that probably didn't have problems with getting screwed. Ugh. Why. Why am I thinking about him?
Only she couldn't stop. He was a mountain. She couldn't ignore him; it was doubtful anyone could.
Her phone rang again. She took a second glance at the door and rolled her eyes.
Picking it up, the one number she didn't want to see, was the one that flashed on the screen.
"Mother."
"Marci dear? Is that any way to greet me?"
"Why are you calling."
"Jeff has secured the venue for your reception. You have another month, so enjoy this little vacation."
Do not swear at her.
"Mother. Thanks, but no. This isn't a vacation. I moved."
Marci heard the hiss of breath over the phone and could only imagine what this was doing to her botox-frozen face.
"You will return to this city before the wedding. You do not embarrass Jeff's family or me like this."
"Jeff took care of embarrassing everyone all on his own. You'll excuse me, but I have an inn to run. Oh, and Mom? I'd see about getting that deposit back if I were you."
She punched the end on the screen and threw the phone on the bed. Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest. Her legs shook as she fought off the anger resurfacing. As soon as she figured out where her pants were, she'd be paying a little trip down the street to figure out what Annie had to say for herself. She didn't need to have someone trying to control her life; her mother was running it all on her own.
"So, I -"
She jumped at the sound of his voice. The ghost scared her less than her mother, putting her on edge.
"Don't you knock?"
"Hey. Sorry. You okay?"
She turned to see Caleb. "Yeah. Fine."
He didn't
move. "You're sure?"
She didn't want to keep lying to herself, or anyone else for that matter. She was tired of living in a picture-perfect family that was only that. Just a photo of what her mother wanted her to see.
"Maybe not. But you can't help me."
Finally, he took a few steps in the room. Nothing was worse than feeling watched.
"Okay. Just thought I'd come start the fire for you if you want before I go open the shop. Pay attention this time."
Her mouth gaped open. "I paid attention the first time. I'm just not exactly experienced with starting fires."
He strode past her. "Okay." He crouched by the hearth. "You should probably come practice then."
Marci waited for him to finish. He held a bit of gray, fluffy dryer lint if she remembered correctly, playing with it between his fingers.
He tossed in the lint. "Do you think maybe you should go home?"
She stomped her foot. "You know what? I don't know what your issue is. One minute you're kissing me and then the next you barely look at me. I mean, okay, sure that was a first for me. But, why do you keep trying to tell me what to do? What did I do to you? It doesn't matter. I'll take a ghost over going home and having to marry some cheating asshat. I refuse to be a subservient wife to a warlock whose best claim to fame is making millions on the stock market and conning stupid humans who think magic can fix their lives. Did my mother call you? Did she pay you to tell me to leave?"
He turned around at this.
"What? Married? I just have a bad feeling about everything."
She threw her hands in the air and started to pace. "Yes. Married. I can't go back. Even running to the opposite side of the country, they still think I will do what they think I should. I've lived my life trying to make my mother proud. I should have realized I couldn't do that. No, I started my own PI business. Well, you know what Caleb, no ghost, no pixie infestation, no old meddling witches or some grumpy shifter will make me change my mind. So take your bad feeling and shove it."
He blinked rapidly.
She slowed down, breathing. This time she tried to calm herself a little. Caleb seemed grumpy, and a bit too free with his opinion, but he wasn't the real reason she was ready to punch something. "Please, don't judge me. I'll make this place a success, and then you can do whatever it is you want, no more having to help the poor new witch. So stop hating and start supporting. Now, where do you suggest we start?"
Snowy With A Chance 0f Mating (Move Over Fate Book 3) Page 5
