Witch Glitch: Magic and Mayhem Book Two

by Robyn Peterman

  I had to stall or possibly run. Being that I didn't know the area well, running wasn't my best option. Of course I could always just poof away with a wiggle of my nose or a flick of my hand, but I was trying just to use my magic only for the benefit of others. This was difficult since I was fairly selfish by nature, but I was trying.

  "Mac, how long ago did your parents die?" I asked as I bent down to examine a rock, a stick and some colorful fallen leaves.

  His smirk revealed he was in on my paranoia. "They died a long time ago. I still miss them."

  "How long?" I inquired as I feigned intense interest in a clump of dirt.

  "It's been about sixty years," he said.

  I froze. Sixty years? How the hell old was the man I'd been playing hide-the-salami with?

  "Um, Mac… can I ask you a question?"

  "If I say no will that stop you?"

  I thought about it for a brief moment. "Probably not."

  "Ask away, pretty girl."

  Did I want the answer to the question? What if he was as old as my dad? I mean I knew magical races lived for hundreds of years, but this was slightly disconcerting. Shithumpers. To ask or not to ask?

  Ask. I always asked. "Exactly how old are you?" I whispered and then held my breath.

  "Isn't it rude to ask a person their age?"

  "Are you a girl?"

  "Not last time I checked," he said as he squatted down next to me.

  "Then no, it's not even remotely rude."

  "You sure you want the answer, Zelda?"

  I thought back to the earlier question I'd asked Naked Dude and the appalling answer I'd received. As I tried to forget the mind-boggling amount of man whores my mother had consorted with, I paused.

  Did his age really matter?

  No.

  Would it change the wildly inappropriate need to slam him to the ground and ride him like a bronco while screaming Yeehaw?

  No.

  Would it change the alarming fact that I might be falling for the beautiful man next to me?

  No.

  Would it give me an excuse to get out of something that was way over what I might be able to handle and would surely screw up?

  Yes. Yes it would.

  "I want to know," I said.

  He expelled a slow breath and I tensed.

  "I'm seventy-five. I was fifteen when my parents were killed."

  Not much rendered me silent, but this did.

  Thankfully Mac was not as old as my dad. That would have skeeved me out. Naked Dude was around two hundred years old. However, I was thirty and that made the man I was doing the nasty with forty-five years older than me. The math was heinous. He could be my grandfather if we were human. But we weren't quite human and Mac looked the same age as me. It certainly didn't seem to bother him if the bulge in his jeans was any indication.

  "This won't work. We don't have the same pop culture references," I said as I shredded the leaves in my hands.

  "I beg to disagree," he shot back. "Favorite bands?"

  "Maroon Five, Journey and AC/DC. Yours?"

  "Eminem, AC/DC and the Rolling Stones."

  "That could possibly work," I muttered. "Favorite TV show?"

  "Deadliest Catch," he replied as he settled himself down on the dirt next to me.

  I figured he was getting comfortable for what he assumed would be a long drawn out interrogation.

  "I like that one. Would you be willing to watch Project Runway with me?"

  "Will it get me laid?"

  I looked down so he wouldn't see my grin. He was a total pig and I loved it. "Yes. Yes, it would."

  "Then I'm in for a marathon. You hungry?"

  "That's an unnecessary question. I'm always hungry," I told him with an eye roll.

  Mac stood and extended his hand. I debated taking it. Going inside felt monumental.

  "I'm sure lunch is ready. I'd really like you to come inside with me."

  I tentatively gave him my hand. "How much would you really like it?"

  "Sex to Journey's greatest hits and you pick the position much."

  "Works for me," I said as we slowly walked toward either our future or the end of our relationship.

  I was really going to try this commitment thing.

  Really really really.

  Chapter 4

  The interior of the house was gorgeous—all exposed beams, earthy colors and clean lines. However, the staff was strange… extremely strange.

  "Hello Zelda. My name is Jeeves. I will be at your service today and any other time you require a well-trained valet-cook-butler or even a chaperone to a formal event if Mac is busy off killing things. I studied my craft in England with the Royal Family," said the odd little dude standing in the foyer of Mac's house.

  The accent was difficult to pinpoint—kind of British slash Red Neck with a little Australian thrown in for good measure. He was dressed in an ill-fitted tux and tennis shoes and looked to be about twenty years old. Jeeves' long light brown hair was slicked back and braided into at least forty little braids with tiny bows on the end of each. His nails were painted purple and I could swear he was sporting eyeliner. He also had an interesting nervous tic. Jeeves liked to bounce and I found my head bobbing as I watched him.

  His smile was gigantic and his welcome was sincere. He was just weird—seriously weird.

  This was Mac's cook?

  WTF?

  "Kyle, what did I tell you about introducing yourself as Jeeves and lying about your credentials?" Mac asked patiently.

  "I can't recall," Jeeves mumbled, minus the alarming accent as his bouncing increased in speed and height.

  "Kyle… stop," Mac reprimanded as if he were speaking to a child.

  "Well um… I believe you said if I plan on lying I'd better be fucking smart because the truth is a lot easier to remember than the bullshit I usually spout."

  "Correct. Would you like to reintroduce yourself to Zelda?" Mac asked.

  "Do I have to? The first introduction sounded so much more impressive than the mundane and utterly boring life I lead," Jeeves pouted.

  I thought he was going to cry and I almost hugged the little freak. That would simply not do. It was bad enough that the whole town thought I was nice. It would ruin my rep if I became known for compassion too.

  "How about this?" I bargained to avoid a blubberfest. "I'll call you Jeeves instead of Kyle if you drop the accent and pony up on some real life facts. Also about the bouncing…"

  "He can’t help that part. It's in his DNA," Mac cut in quickly. "Kyle is a kangaroo Shifter."

  "For real?" I asked, shocked. "I thought they were extinct."

  "For the most part we are," Jeeves replied softly. "Mac, the greatest King to grace the round globe of the earth, found me on the side of the road in Australia when I was but a wee, helpless yet adorably precocious joey."

  "Really?" I asked as I peeked over at Mac.

  I tended to forget my host was the King around here. It was kind of hot to be boffing the King.

  "Oh yes," Jeeves went on. "Everyone else thought I was road kill, but not my magnanimous, tremendous, altruistic, benevolent, noble and bighearted savior."

  "Clearly Kyle has been reading the thesaurus again," Mac grumbled, uncomfortable with the over the top outpouring of praise. "Let's eat."

  He grabbed my hand and tried to pull me to the kitchen, but I wasn't having it.

  "So then what happened?" I asked a very talkative Jeeves as I pried my hand from Mac's.

  "Why he adopted me of course."

  That was certainly something to chew on. If I mated with Mac—not that I had any intention of doing so—I gained a strange little man with an immense vocabulary and a disturbing hair-do?

  "So you're his—?" I mumbled not quite sure what term to use.

  "I'm his son," Jeeves confirmed. "And I am dearly hoping you will be my mum."

  "Um wow," I choked out as I calculated the distance to the front door.

  Poofing away would be easier
, but it would be a weenie move. I was going to handle this like an adult and run like hell.

  "Time to eat," Mac grunted as he yanked my shocked body into the kitchen.

  I was lifted into the air and plopped down on a chair. Mac quickly straddled said chair and pinned me so I couldn't head for the hills. Smart man.

  "Say something. Now," Mac said as he watched me carefully.

  "Ummkay… you're seventy five years old and you have a kangaroo son with an identity crisis who wants me to be his mommy. Is there anything else I should know about you before I kick your ass to the curb?"

  His eyes narrowed and my stupid panties dampened with desire. What in the Goddess's name was wrong with me? A deadly werewolf King had me trapped in his kitchen while his bizzarro kangaroo son hopped around the house somewhere. And all I wanted to do was stick my tongue down the wolf's throat and ride him like a cowgirl.

  Damn it, I needed to find a new therapist immediately.

  "I want you to know this… I have waited seventy-five years for you and I'm not letting you go. Ever. You are mine and I’m yours whether you are ready to accept it or not. As for Kyle, he was dying on the side of a road and no one wanted him. I took him and had to adopt him so he would legally be under my protection."

  "It's Jeeves, not Kyle," the bouncing weirdo shouted from the foyer.

  "Go outside and play," Mac yelled back.

  "I never get to stay for the good stuff," Jeeves whined.

  "Now," Mac demanded.

  "Going," Jeeves answered dejectedly.

  Jeeves slammed the front door behind him bitching like a pre-pubescent girl. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  Did I want to leave? Nope. I was clearly insane.

  Should I leave? Yes. I was very ill equipped for this adventure that was playing out. I was barely capable of taking care of myself.

  However, the sex was so damn good, I decided to hear him out.

  Shallow? Yes.

  Did I care? Not so much.

  "Keep talking, little mister," I said as I narrowed my own eyes right back at him.

  "I have no more secrets like Kyle. I was worried about your reaction. He's harmless and can cook like a pro chef—plus he's grown on me over time."

  "He lives here?" I asked as I noticed the mouthwatering aroma coming from the stove.

  "Yes, he does."

  "That kind of fucks up playing Little Red Riding Hood… vague pun intended," I informed him as I covertly glanced over at the stove.

  "Hungry?" he asked with a smirk.

  Maybe I wasn't so covert. "Possibly," I replied as his scent mixed with the food hit my nose. I was in Nirvana times ten.

  "How about this. I will remove myself from your hot bod and feed you if you promise not to run," Mac suggested warily as he ran his hand through his dark hair.

  "What about poofing away?"

  "No poofing either. Deal?" he asked.

  "What's for lunch?" I inquired and wanted to punch my own head for being so easily bought.

  "Coq au vin, steamed potatoes, homemade crusty French bread and molten chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream for dessert. Also homemade," Jeeves announced with his face plastered to the screen of the open kitchen window.

  "I told you to go outside and play," Mac snapped.

  "I am outside," Jeeves reasoned.

  "He is outside," I admitted with a grin.

  Mac's frustration with his son was getting amusing. But to be fair, Jeeves was a pain in the ass.

  "Go play then," Mac ground out.

  "Fine. I'll play, but I'd like to go on record that this is incredibly unfair treatment. I'm an outstanding conversationalist and a sought after dinner partner."

  "So noted," Mac said. "Play. Now. Far away from the house."

  We sat in silence and stared at each other. It was all I could do not to laugh. Squirming beneath him, I felt evidence of his desire for me and it made my head spin. It would just figure that I was nuts for a werewolf with baggage.

  "I'll stay for lunch," I said as I pressed up against his erection.

  His quick intake of breath was hot—very hot—almost hot enough to make me forgo lunch, but food was food and I was always hungry. Plus the thought of Jeeves popping up at an inappropriate moment dampened my immediate need for sex just a bit.

  "After lunch we'll play," Mac promised as he began heaping food onto plates.

  "What about Jeeves?"

  Mac paused, sighed and then grinned. "I'll send him to the grocery. He loves the grocery. He'll be gone for hours."

  "I heard all of that," Jeeves yelled from the yard.

  "Of course you did," Mac muttered as he shook his head.

  "Maybe it's time Jeeves got his own apartment," I whispered since the kangaroo had super sonic hearing.

  "You might have a point there," Mac replied. "A very fine point."

  Chapter 5

  "Oh my Goddess," I moaned as I patted my full tummy. "Jeeves can definitely cook."

  "Told ya," Mac replied as he polished off the rest of the lava cake.

  Thankfully Jeeves had gone to the grocery. He was so excited to shop for food his hopping reached levels that almost made my neck cramp from trying to maintain eye contact with him.

  "So what do you want to do now?" I asked as I leaned forward in my chair to give Mac a nice view of my cleavage.

  His stare was downright lascivious and I giggled.

  "I'm thinking it's story time."

  "Which story would you like to hear?" I asked as I leaned a little further.

  "The one where we end up naked and rolling around in the sheets," he replied in a low sexy rumble that made me shiver.

  "Not sure I know that one," I teased.

  "Oh, I think you'll enjoy it. A lot."

  "Possibly. I suppose there's only one way to find out. Oh, and I brought props," I said as I reached down and ransacked my purse.

  "Lay them on me," Mac said pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor.

  Sweet Goddess Almighty, I paused and took in the scenery with a huge grin. No one had the right to look like he did. His six-pack was actually an eight-pack and the light sprinkling of hair on his chest that veed down to my favorite part of his body made my fingers itch to touch him.

  "It has to be in the bedroom to do it right," I explained as I got back to business and found what I was searching for.

  I tossed him a granny cap and then dug around my bag for elastic hair ties. My locks were fire red, not golden, but I figured I could whip my mass of curls into pigtails for a more realistic approach.

  "Bedrooms are up… Wait. What the hell is this?" Mac asked as he gingerly held up the white granny cap as if it were a dead mouse. "You cannot expect me to put this on my head. My Johnson will not be okay with this. At all."

  "Trust me. I'll make sure your Johnson is just fine and you have to wear it. It's the rules. However, we need to discuss the name of your thingie. I was thinking we should call him Bon Jovi or Adam Levine."

  "Absolutely not," Mac snapped, instinctually protecting his dangly parts with his hands. "He's been Johnson for as long as I can remember."

  "Well that's certainly a long time, considering you're older than dirt," I shot back.

  I thought I'd come up with creative names. His shooting down my suggestions for renaming his penis didn't bode well for a healthy relationship.

  Mac's bark of laughter made me roll my eyes.

  "Fine. You can call him Johnson and I'll call him Petey," I said with a shrug.

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What happened to Bon Jovi?" he demanded realizing he might be losing quickly.

  "I thought you didn't like Bon Jovi."

  "Well it's certainly better than Petey," he huffed.

  "Fine Bon Jovi it is," I said as I stood up, finished my girly hair do and yanked my dress over my head. "Put on your cap. You have to get under the covers and pull them up to your nose. I will then enter the room and we can just improvise."