“I can get a training in, yeah, but are you serious?” I finally asked. “You suddenly have an interest in Edgar’s flowers?”
He bent until his face took up my view once again, his smile infectious. “Think I’ve gone native?”
“I don’t think I’d be able to handle it if you turned as weird as that vampire.”
He laughed. “I want to know if he’s found out what’s eating them. I haven’t smelled anything suspicious around the property, but I want to make sure the flower prowler poses no threat.” He bent until I saw the top of his head.
“You put your shirt on before your pants?” I asked, unable to help it. Watching his morning routine fascinated me.
“Yeah, don’t you?”
“No, pants before shirt. Though I usually start with panties, then a bra, then pants. Since you don’t have a bra, I suppose it makes sense to go from underwear to a shirt, then on to pants… I can see that. If you put your underwear on before the shirt, that is.”
His eyes found mine from beneath thick black lashes. He didn’t speak for a moment, but then he straightened up, his shirt bunching as he brought his hands up to secure his pants. “I’ll be shifting today, probably a few times. I’m free-balling it. One less thing to keep track of.”
My face heated and I looked away, back to brushing my hair. “No purple sweats?”
“No. In case you change.”
“Why should that determine your choice of pants?”
“I’m tired of the purple sweats making it seem like I’ve looked when I haven’t.”
My face flamed a little hotter. Every time I stripped before shifting, he turned completely around so he couldn’t accidentally look, a courtesy I never afforded him. Even still, his sweats were always tented by the time he turned back. If Niamh was there, she’d inevitably accuse him of using a mirror to look over his shoulder. She liked to make an awkward situation worse. It was part of her charm.
“How are jeans going to help with that? I assume you’re wearing jeans?”
“Jeans are uncomfortable as hell when you have a hard-on and no briefs.”
“Ah. So that’s the real reason you’re free-balling it—trying to force self-control.”
His lopsided smile was adorable. “That purple sucks, anyway. It in no way matches your other form. It’s much too drab.”
I laughed and stood with the phone, dropping the towel into the laundry. It would be interesting to see who came in to grab it—Mr. Tom, as usual, or my mother, whom I’d banned from doing my laundry in my teens because she shrank everything but wouldn’t give me money to buy more. The ban hadn’t worked. She hated seeing clothes in the laundry basket. The woman was a machine.
“When did you want to train?” I asked, flicking on the light in my spacious closet and propping up the phone on my dresser, against my jewelry box.
Austin was on the move again, walking through his house, a place I’d never been. I had only been to his cabin on the lake, a place he usually didn’t tell people about.
“I have to hit the bar and put in a couple orders,” he said, “but I can run and do that now. Early afternoon? Lunchtime?”
When I was sure only my face showed in the picture, my robe hit the floor and I pulled out some knickers. “Yeah, whenever. I’ll probably need a break from the parents by then.”
“Great. I’ll just swing… What are you doing?” His tone had changed, almost aggressive.
Panties on, I paused with bra in hand. “Changing, why? You did it.”
The movement behind him stopped, and a pained expression took over his face. He swore, looking to the side. “Wish you would’ve waited on that.”
I couldn’t help a smile even as heat unfurled within me. A wave of shivers coated my body from the contrasting chilled air kissing my skin. I did my best to ignore the sensation, putting on my bra. “You need to get laid, son. This is becoming a problem.”
He shook his head and breathed out through his mouth. “You’re a pretty lady. Can’t be helped. Talk to you later. Wear a muumuu.”
I laughed as the call ended, the screen going black before morphing back into his contact image. For a moment I just let myself be still, owning the confusing emotions and feelings rolling through me: heat from our exchange, pleasurable aching down low, the strange contentment of having shared our morning routines, the comfort and joy of our deepening intimacy as friends, and the worry regarding the budding longing I felt to be near him. To call him again and keep talking. To speed up time so he could get here a little faster.
“Keep it steady, Jacinta,” I murmured to myself, pulling on a pair of pants and a shirt, smiling a little as I noted the order. “He’s the only normal man in your life. You’re clearly reacting to that as much as him as a person.”
The bedroom door opened for me as I reached it.
“Thank you.” I stepped through it.
“What?” Ulric walked toward me in the hall. “Me?” He grinned.
“No, sorry. The house. She hears.” I made a circle in the air with my finger.
A pained expression crossed his face. “Don’t tell me those things. This house is a lot to get used to. Not to shift the topic or anything, but can I come out now? It smells like bacon. Or can I at least fly out the window and hit a diner in town? If I smell bacon, I need to eat bacon. I don’t think I’m alone in that.”
“Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll go try to explain you all to my parents first. Then yes, I’m sure there is bacon, though we’ll have to make more, since my mom didn’t know to cook for the house.”
“It’s not Mr. Tom? Damn. I was hoping he’d come around on his stance regarding bacon. Did he make a special allowance because of your parents?”
For some reason no one could understand, Mr. Tom would not allow bacon in the house. He claimed it was bad for us, which wasn’t untrue, but then why were chocolate and cookies allowed? We’d all just kind of gotten over it, because we didn’t want to make it ourselves.
“He conveniently forgot about it at the store, but my mom brought some in her cooler.”
Ulric blinked a few times as we stopped at the top of the stairs before drawing out his words. “She…brought some…in her…cooler?”
I laughed. “Yeah, I’ll explain later.”
The blaring TV assaulted my eardrums before I even hit the ground floor. I made my way to the makeshift lounge and found my dad in his designated chair, his arm on the armrest, the remote in his hand. The man on the screen was casting a fishing lure into a calm lake while expounding on the best lures for big-mouth bass.
“Hey, Dad, everything good?” I asked.
“Heh?” He turned in his chair to look over his shoulder, and then turned down the TV. “Oh. Hi. Late one last night, huh?”
I moved so it was a little easier for him to see me. “Yeah, kinda. You good?”
He grunted and turned back to the TV. “Quite a setup you’ve got here. Lots of sitting rooms. How many sitting rooms does one house need? Although, if the house is this big, what else are you going to put in it, I suppose. There was an orange rug in my room. Did you decorate this place?”
“No. It came furnished. Mostly.”
He grunted again. “Well, I don’t know about the orange. That was a big thing in the seventies, that rusted orange color.”
“Yeah. You guys should’ve brought the color palette from your house. I could’ve closed my eyes and picked at random. What do you bet I’d land on brown?”
He scratched his stomach. “Nice, big house, though. Lots of room. I had to turn the TV up so I could hear it, it’s so far away. Least I can see it. I should get a new TV. What’s this picture? A bunch of pixels, right?”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Yes. Lots of pixels, you’ve got it.”
“Yeah. We still got that old one you gave us. It’s not as clear as this one.”
“Put it on your Christmas list. Do you need anything in here? We’ve got a big garden if you want to check that out. There’s even a hed
ge maze.”
“A what?” He muted the TV. “A hedge maze? What is that?”
“A big maze made out of…hedges. They’re like thick bushes but really tall, and they’re used to form the walls of a maze.” His blank stare said he still wasn’t getting it. “A corn maze, like in pumpkin patches, but made out of bushes and in my backyard.”
“You have a nice garden, huh?”
Clearly he wasn’t interested in discussing backyard mazes. It was probably a little too weird for his taste.
“Yes. Nice, big garden,” I said, just trying to go with the flow.
“That bed is awfully soft, the one in the guest room? I’m not used to soft beds. I kept waking up. Or maybe it was the thumping above me. Probably a rat. Old houses like this have lots of vermin. Our house had a mouse problem a while back. I’ll set some traps, don’t you worry. If there is one thing I know how to do, it’s how to get rid of vermin.”
“Oh no, no, that’s okay, Dad. Thanks. We don’t have rats. That might’ve been Mr. Tom, the butler. He was probably—”
His finger hovered over the remote, about to unmute the TV. “Is it Tom or Edgar?”
“Mr. Tom is the butler, and Edgar is the gardener. Remember the guy with the dentures?” Given Edgar’s issue with retracting his fangs, we’d called them out as malfunctioning dentures when he’d come in yesterday afternoon to meet the folks. Thankfully he hadn’t said much, keeping those chompers mostly under wraps.
“Oh yeah, the balding guy with dandruff. I use Head & Shoulders. Got rid of that problem. I told him so.” He snapped. “Earl. Irish lady called your butler Earl.”
“Yeah, Mr. Tom is kind of a nickname. He’d like it if you used that.”
My dad’s brows knitted together. He unmuted the TV and turned back to the fishing program. Apparently that didn’t make much sense to him, and now he planned to ignore it and the hedge maze both. Hopefully he did that for all the weird stuff he was bound to run into.
“Okay, well, let me know if you need anything,” I said.
My mother was in the kitchen, her half-moon glasses perched on the edge of her nose as she looked up at the top oven, the house having two stacked on top of each other.
“Hey, Mom.”
She glanced over, smiled, and then returned to studying the buttons. “You had a late one, huh? I’m just trying to figure out how to do the warm setting. Do you want some breakfast? I made enough for your butler and gardener and the Irish rock thrower, too, but the butler hasn’t come in since I started making breakfast, and none of the others have stopped by. How about your friend from last night? The big, burly man. He’s certainly handsome. Are you two dating?”
“Austin? No. It’s right here, Mom, the one that says ‘warm’ on it.” I pushed the button for her.
“Oh yeah. Warm. That’s a good hint.” She pulled open the oven and extracted the plates covered in grease-coated napkins. Why she was looking for the button to warm when about to take out the food was beyond me. “I couldn’t find any paper plates. I’ll get some at the store today.”
“No, it’s fine. We have real plates. Mr. Tom prefers—”
“And paper towels. You could use more paper towels. You don’t care what kind I get, do you?”
“No, honestly, Mom, it’s fine. Mr. Tom—”
Ulric popped into the doorway with a smile.
“Honey, look out!” My mother shoved me, grabbed a potato off the counter, and chucked it, all in a fast collection of somewhat rickety movements. Despite the way it was launched, that sucker flew true, directly for Ulric’s head.
“Holy—” Ulric bent to the side, batting the flying spud away. “I’m friendly! I’m friendly!”
“Martha, what’s going on in there?” my dad hollered from the other room.
“Mom, oh my God, he lives here!” Half shocked and half trying not to laugh, I put up my hands and danced between them. “That’s Ulric. He’s staying here for the moment. At the moment.”
“What?” She incrementally lowered the second potato, having reloaded in a hurry.
“I live here, ma’am.” Ulric stayed put, not attempting to step any farther into the kitchen.
The laughter finally bubbled over. “Really, Mom? A potato? You wouldn’t pick up a knife or something heavy…”
“Good aim, though.” Ulric beamed. “Now we know where Jessie gets her fierce streak. You should take up rock slinging with Niamh.”
My glare shut him up.
“Who is he?” my mom asked, finally lowering her weapon.
Jasper stepped in beside Ulric, his expression one of deep interest. “I smell bacon.”
I widened my eyes. It clearly took bacon to get him to say full sentences.
“Mom, meet Ulric and Jasper. Cedric—a youngish guy named Cedric—is also living here. At the moment.”
“Oh.” My mom dropped the potato onto the counter. “Well, it is a big house. And you didn’t get that much in the divorce settlement, did you? I guess it makes sense to take on a few roommates. But Jessie, why not just buy a smaller house? I’m sure there must be something you can afford in this area—”
“Oh no, ma’am, you have it all wrong.” Ulric took a seat at the island. “You see, we’re doing a sort of work exchange program. Jessie here has a large property—with extensive woods—and we’re all in the same doctorate program studying the global effect woods have on our ecosystem. Well, Jessie was nice enough to put us up for a few months so we can study her trees for the experience portion of our program.” He spread his arms with a smile. “Just a bunch of tree-hugging fellas, that’s us.”
Wow. Ulric was really good at making up stories on the fly.
“Austin recommended them,” I said, going with it. It probably should’ve occurred to me before now to have something worked out. “He looked into their backgrounds and everything.”
“Oh, Austin did?” She pondered that for a moment. “He seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.” Her gaze snagged on Ulric’s hair. “Well, I have some breakfast ready if you want some.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Yes, please.” Jasper joined Ulric at the island.
“Speaking of…” I leveled a pointer finger at them. “Austin wanted to check out some things later today. Trees. The woods, I mean.” I wasn’t great at lying. “He asked if I’d help. You guys should probably join.”
“Yeah, sure.” Ulric tracked my mom’s movements. “After breakfast.”
I just hoped I didn’t blow anyone else up. How would I explain a charred gargoyle to my parents?
Five
Austin stepped out of the Jeep, fatigue dragging at him. The bar was a lot busier now that he’d taken on the alpha role, people rolling in from all over, wanting to congregate in what they deemed the new magical epicenter of the area. Austin had had no idea the people around here were craving a larger magical presence. There wasn’t a strictly magical town for hundreds of miles, and no other alphas anywhere close. Or maybe they wanted a more organized magical presence. Whatever the reason, they’d been coming to the bar in droves, their presence signaling to Austin that he should extend his territory. So far, it was three towns, but given the growing patronage, soon it would probably be five.
He needed to establish a pack. Usually a territory didn’t grow this fast. People tended to balk from accepting a new authority figure. Of course, he wasn’t exactly new, and his situation was far from normal. He should’ve thought of that before making the switch.
“Can I be in your pack? I promise I won’t bring Mr. Tom.”
Goosebumps rolled across his skin, and he stopped just before stepping over Ivy House’s territory line.
“Give me a minute,” he murmured, hoping the house would hear him. It knew he was there because of his magical connection to it, but Jess wouldn’t. Not until he stepped over that invisible line. Out of habit, or maybe a respect for his privacy, she only tapped in to their magical connection if she was worried about him, or worried about her
self and counting on him.
He hadn’t been so respectful of her privacy. He had his side of that magical connection open twenty-four seven, mostly out of fear for her safety. Without an established pack to watch the borders of the territory, she was open for attack. He’d gotten that wake-up call a few months ago when a few teams of mages had waltzed in, watched the town, and made off with its prize. Jess. He would not close the connection until she was ten times more secure.
The other reason? He didn’t really like thinking about that.
He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and turned toward the street, taking in the nice day and noticing the trunk on Jessie’s parents’ car wasn’t latched properly. As he walked over to inspect it, he saw the handmade bumper sticker—a piece of computer paper cut into a strip and taped on. It read:
I leave the trunk open
so the wife can breathe.
Surprised laughter bubbled up through him. Those two were a trip, so much different than the serious household he’d grown up in.
“Hey.” Niamh stepped out onto her porch, an empty sack in hand for carrying their clothes once they shifted. “What’re ye at?” She closed her door behind her. “Ye look like ye just got stabbed with a pitchfork, so ye do.”
He ambled toward her, in no hurry, soaking in the sun and the quiet street. “I’m good. Need to work with Jess on the new spell Edgar pulled from the book. Did he mention it?”
“Yes.” She paused next to her chair and checked her rocks. Seeing they were accounted for, she walked down her porch steps and across a little patch of cultivated grass Edgar must manage, because no way would Niamh be bothered. “He wouldn’t stop going on about it. He’s delighted the alpha of the town called him directly. He kept saying that—the alpha of the town—as though ye aren’t also a part of Ivy House. He thinks of ye as royalty, the muppet. The hemming and hawing out of him would drive a person mad.” She rolled her eyes. “Did ye hear?” Niamh commenced a slow pace across the street toward Ivy House.
“About what?”
Magical Midlife Invasion Page 5
