by Heather Long
To their credit, no one laughed, but when the magic poofed and sparked all over Rika, she came out looking more like a character from a comic book, right down to the three-foot-tall mohawk. Yowling, she shoved away from the table and fled the diner.
The silence in the room held a heartbeat longer then Martin twisted in the seat to look at me. “More coffee?”
Surprised, I nodded, and he waved Dee Dee over. She refilled the cups, gave me a wide-eyed stare then a smile before resuming her work.
Still uncertain of Martin’s reaction, I took a sip of my coffee. Finally, I admitted, “I’m surprised you don’t want me to chase after her.”
“Teenagers are a tricky bunch.” He stretched his legs out beneath the table and held the rest of his comments till Dee Dee set all the plates on the table.
“Would you like me to make her burger to go?”
“No,” Martin answered before I could. “If she doesn’t return before we’re finished, we’ll get it to go then.”
After DeeDee left us, I plucked a french fry from the stack and nibbled on it. Martin cut into his chicken fried steak with gusto and took three bites in rapid succession. Poor thing was so hungry.
Finally, after dabbing his mouth with a napkin, he said, “Teenagers want attention. Sometimes they will go for negative attention, if that’s all they are used to. You handled that beautifully. You asked her if she wanted your help. She didn’t specify what you were going to do before you did it, so that’s on her. A good life lesson to learn. Also, now you’ve established a boundary, so a good lesson for you is to remember to maintain it. The food is here. We ordered the food. If she wants to eat, she comes back for it. If she wants to have it cold, she can continue her temper tantrum.”
“Interesting take on parenting.” Of course, what did I know? My parents dumped with me with Nanny about fifteen minutes after my first true temper tantrum as a toddler turned all my playmates into baby chicks. According to the story, it took my mother hours to undo my magic. Nanny kept me bottled up until I learned to direct my songs. I figured the technique worked for me, so why not for Rika?
Still eating a french fry, I glanced out the window to where Rika ran around in circles outside. Every few minutes or so, she would release a flash of light and her outfit, hair and other items would change. At the rate she was going, she’d be buck-ass naked and sporting the hair of a Viking.
“You’re not her parent. You’re her teacher.” Martin nudged me with his shoulder. “And you need to eat. You’ve been making do with too little and you’ve had a long couple of days.”
True enough, but I kept an eye on my so-called charge while I nibbled at my chicken sandwich. It was all really good, but the french fries were the best. Dee Dee didn’t even mind when I asked for an ice cream shake instead of coffee. Rika didn’t return, so we boxed her food up and, by the time we were ready to leave, Dee Dee told us the food had already been paid for.
Maybe Rika was right. Maybe we had an allowance. Outside, Martin took my hand and we walked, fingers interlocked as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Rika sat on the curb next to my car, she looked mostly herself—if her look was a fifties housewife with blue hair.
Martin handed her the box with her food in it, and she let out a glum sigh. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The last hour might have been uncomfortable for her, but it had definitely taken the edge off her personality. “You said we have a cottage?”
Surprise etched into the teen’s eyes. I met her gaze and held it. No, I would not be chastising her behavior; she’d done enough of that on her own. I merely waited for her to get a grip. “We do.” Okay, grip found and, no, I didn’t like the sound of the we. “I forgot to mention the I’ll be living with you part, didn’t I?”
“No matter. It will be easier to teach you if you’re close.” Of course, I have no idea what I, the epic-fuck-up, was going to teach her, the epic-fuck-up-part-deux, but we’d get there. “I’d offer you a ride, but…”
“You should be in school.” Martin interjected smoothly, and I blinked. School? I hadn’t even thought about it. Rika made a face and, based on the amusement in Martin’s eyes, my expression must have been similar. “This town has a school, I presume?”
“Yes.” Rika sighed, dejected all over again.
“You’re enrolled in it?” Hey, I can take a hint. I jumped on the responsibility bandwagon.
“Yeah.” An even deeper, more melodramatic sigh of a word. “I had a free period then lunch, and I kind of knew you would be here today because I’ve been scrying for you—” She shut up so suddenly, I realized all of sudden why I’d had a flat tire on the road.
“Well then, tell us where the cottage is and take your food to school. After school, do whatever homework and assignments you have then come home and we’ll talk.”
Rika looked confused. “You want me to do my homework and stuff before I come home?”
“Yes,” I said before Martin could say a word. “I assume you’ve been staying somewhere while waiting for us to get here?”
“Well, sort of…”
“Good, you can go there while you do your homework. Get it all done then come to the cottage. Now, where is it?” We left Rika after we made sure we knew where the school was and what time she would be done. The whole time we drove to the cottage, following her directions, I was aware of those watching us along the route… including three very fat cats who were waiting in our yard when we pulled in, though the hurried way they were leaving suggested they weren’t supposed to be there.
Martin opened his mouth to say something then they vanished. Rubbing his neck, he studied the cute little building with its curved doors and windows. “Why does it look like a gingerbread house?”
“I have no idea.” It was so utterly not me. “Let’s just hope it’s not made out of candy.” Of course, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Martin hoisted my suitcases out of the back without me having to ask. I put the roof up on the convertible before locking it and following him into the building.
Inside was laid out pretty basic, though the decorations from the shag carpeting to the beads hanging in the doorways was so late seventies, early eighties that I think I would have preferred sleeping in the car.
There was even a dogs playing poker picture over the fireplace.
“Please tell me this isn’t your idea of décor.” Martin’s quiet sentiment sent a pulse of laughter through me.
“Oh no.” I turned in a circle. “This is my idea of one of the circles of hell.”
“Hopefully, we can make improvements.” He stood rooted in the doorway through, a suitcase in each hand. With his beautiful suit rumpled and his hair askew—even with the pink keds on his feet—no matter how cock-eyed my world or what millennium they’d done the house up in, all was right with my world.
Curling a finger in his direction, I motioned for him to come inside. He closed the distance between us and I grinned. “See, improvement achieved.”
Inquiry reflected in the depths of his sweet brown eyes. My suitcases hit the floor, and then I was in his arms. I kissed him, thrilling to the same electric connection we’d discovered in the car. I loved the way his arms closed around me and how he lifted me from the floor. It was romantic, and it made me feel like a fairy princess.
From standing still to in motion, he kept stealing kisses as he strode through the house and down the hall. With a light bang, he kicked in a door and then we tumbled onto a bed. For a moment, I froze as I stared at the ceiling. Sensing my utter abandonment of his sensual assault, Martin followed my gaze and turned his head to look at the mirror across the ceiling.
“We’ve fallen into the house of porn,” he commented, then looked at me. “I don’t suppose you’d…”
“Mirror, mirror on the wall—somethings are just not right at all, I bid you thank you for all you do and send you somewhere else, adieu.” Singing the utterly ridiculous words paid off as the mirror vanished leaving an unfinis
hed, if ugly ceiling in its place.
“Do I want to know where it went?”
Hopefully back to the Baba Yaga’s twisted sense of humor, but I didn’t say that. “Do you care?”
For all of a split second, Martin seemed to consider my question as though I were serious. Finally, he shook his head. “Not in the slightest.”
Then we were all over each other. Martin shed the suit as if he too possessed magic, and I stripped out of my ripped jeans and shirt. By the time I slid out of my panties and reached for Martin, I had to pause and meet his stunned, almost dazed expression.
The way he looked at me sent a warm flush across my skin, and I’d never felt more beautiful. He didn’t seem to care about the extra weight at my hips or the slight curve to my tummy. My boobs had never been all that much as far as I was concerned, but the raw hunger in his expression made me strike a pose. “See something you like?”
“Very much.” The reverence in his tone totally deflated my playfulness. Moisture pricked my eyes, and I had to blink back tears. “You are an exceptional woman, my witchypoo.”
“Let’s be clear,” I told him, trying to force the words around the sudden lump in my throat. “You are the only one in the world who gets to call me that.”
He took a step toward me. “Agreed.”
“You are one exceptional specimen of a man.” Mortal or not. Former skunk or not. Martin really was built like a chiseled god, exquisitely crafted with every muscle seemingly detailed.
“I noticed earlier you seemed quite taken with my…” He motioned to his very erect and standing at full attention manhood. Yep, I said manhood. Live with it. This happens to be my damn romantic moment.
“Your package?” I grinned, rolling my hips in invitation as I hit the edge of the bed and slid onto it, continuing toward him on my knees.
He matched me step for step. “If that is what you wish to call it.”
I halted, then held up a hand. “Dude, we’re like in total fantasy moment so if you call it Bob or Jolene or something equally as weird, don’t. Your package, my box, got it?”
The curve of his very full mouth had me laughing. “My package, your box? I am definitely on board with that idea.” He kissed me, and I forgot how to think. When his hands wandered to my breasts, I had to gasp. Damn, if he didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t rush his delivery job. No, he took his time. He kissed, nipped, sucked and teased. When he finally tumbled me onto my back and nestled his way into the cradle of my legs, he said, “Ding dong.”
I froze, nails dug into his shoulders and panted as I met the warmth of humor in his expression. “This witch is so not dead.”
“No,” he shook his head and kissed my nose. “Special delivery.”
“Oh!” Thought took a backseat as he sank into me. The whole world revolved around skin on skin contact. We found our rhythm, holding tight to each other. At some point, I heard his shout of pleasure, but I was so busy drowning in my own, I just held on.
Drifting back to Earth, I ran my foot along the back of his leg. His face was buried against my throat and my whole body ached—in all the best ways. Reality intruded rather rudely into the glorious haze. I wanted to tell him how I felt. I wanted to blurt out those three magical words, but I didn’t dare. What if my scream only ripped away his curse temporarily? What if I invoked another curse?
What if I scared him off?
“Stop thinking, witchypoo.” Martin’s soft order against my throat sent a shiver through me. His hand came up to cup my breast. He pinched the nipple, just enough to send another electric shock through me. “School will be over soon, and I want to deliver another package.”
“I like that idea.” We had so much to do. Another job to deal with, and I was no closer to figuring out Nasty-Face’s issue than…Martin nibbled a path along my collarbone before he headed directly south.
“I see we must begin your education, my beloved,” he said as he pressed a kiss to my hipbone. “Where you should focus your mind, your attention, and your…”
To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what he said next or really anything he might’ve said for the next couple of hours. Remember how fascinated I was with his package when I first saw it?
Well, let’s just say that, had I known then what I found out at the cottage? We’d have never made it to Assjacket. Oh yeah, and what he did with his tongue? Well, I have yet to see that skill in a book, so I plan to keep it to myself.
Epilogue
Three days later…
“You go to school. You do the work, take care of your homework then you come back.” I repeated the instructions for the third time. Rika could be a stubborn little thing.
“I am not going to school today just so you two can get your bang on.” Instead of being impressed by my death stare, she gave me a bored look then turned on the television.
Hands on my hips, I glared at her. We didn’t just spend our days banging, we had actually gone out twice. Once to meet the famed Shifter Whisperer and her mate, in an honest attempt to fit in and make our intentions clear. They were cool. The second time, we’d had to go to the bank and grocery store. We’d even gotten Martin some new clothes. We did go out.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Rika said before she bit into an apple. Her magic control still sucked. Her current hair color was some kind of neon yellow and it was spikes in five directions. She looked more anime than cartoon this time. Not that it was an improvement. “I’m not going to school today.”
Martin stepped out of our bedroom, his freshly showered damp hair already curling. He had switched from button down shirts to a plain t-shirt. He said he planned to wear those until I stopped ripping all the buttons off. It was a deal I could live with. He took one look at my expression and shook his head.
Okay, so I couldn’t hex the little beast into behaving herself. Gritting my teeth, I gripped the back of the kitchen chair and went for the calm approach. “Do you care to explain why?”
“Cause it’s Saturday, genius. We don’t have school on Saturday.”
“Excellent,” Martin interceded before I flew across the room. “Then you have time for chores.” He plucked the remote from her hand and turned off the television.
I swear, Rika’s hair caught on fire and burned blue, but not a spot of magic escaped the bubble. Damn, I did good work. All of a sudden, I felt great about life. “Yes, you do chores, and I’ll cook breakfast.”
Martin wheeled around and looked at me. “Why don’t I cook breakfast for you, darling, so you can work on your research. We’ll plan some outings and lessons while we’re at it.”
I glanced at Rika, and she glared at me. Well, crap I didn’t want to do research. I wanted to play more post office with Martin. “Fine.” I sighed.
At the same moment, Rika flounced to her feet. “Fine. What are my chores?”
I swear Martin bypassed us both to head to the kitchen and muttered, “Thanks, Annabeth. You gave me two of them.”
“You know,” Rika said, almost whispering as the fire in her hair extinguished and left her with a very goth, black skullcap look. “I like him.”
“Me too,” I told her, and we both grinned. “Me too.”
A bang of a pot in the kitchen had us both moving though.
We have a long way to go, the three of us. I still need to find Nasty-Face’s solution and figure out how to train Rika. She has to learn to be polite. I have to learn to say what I’m feeling, and Martin?
Well, maybe he needs to learn a little more patience to put up with us. Otherwise, he’s perfect, just the way he was.
Who knew that the best thing to ever happen to me would happen because I said cow? Or because I ran into a skunk at a rest stop? Or from a scream in a fit of temper?
Huh…
Nanny knew. Damn, that woman knew everything. Still, no complaints here.
Not yet anyway.
Bridget, Martin, and Rika will return in Bridget’s Witch’s Diary.
February, 2017
About the Author
National bestselling author, Heather Long, likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime. From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books. When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family. She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them, you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.
www.heatherlong.net
@HVLong
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www.heatherlong.net
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Also by Heather Long
Always a Marine
Once Her Man, Always Her Man
Retreat Hell! She Just Got Here
Tell It to the Marine
Proud to Serve Her
Her Marine
No Regrets, No Surrender
The Marine Cowboy
The Two and the Proud
A Marine and a Gentleman
Combat Barbie
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
What Part of Marine Don’t You Understand?
A Marine Affair
Marine Ever After
Marine in the Wind
Marine with Benefits
A Marine of Plenty
A Candle for a Marine
Marine under the Mistletoe
Have Yourself a Marine Christmas
Lest Old Marines Be Forgot
Her Marine Bodyguard
Elite Metal
Pure Copper
