Summer Magic

by T. M. Cromer

  Amusement lit Alastair’s eyes, and the blue brightened by degrees.

  Seeing the transition of color as it happened was creepy as hell. Irises weren’t meant to do that.

  Alastair turned all business in the blink of an eye. “I had my assistant go back through the video archives. Conveniently, any recordings of Morty’s time with White Laboratory was missing. Would you know anything about that, child, or should I lay that at the doorstep of my meddling sister?”

  “Both. She gave me a copy of the digital recording.” Summer pulled out her laptop and played the keyed-up video.

  Coop watched Alastair carefully as he viewed the screen. The subtle shifting of his jaw, the lowered brows, and the menace in his eyes let Coop know Alastair wasn’t happy about the behavior of his employees.

  “I’ve seen enough.” Alastair closed the computer with a decisive click and picked up his cellphone from the table. “Please excuse me a moment. I need to make a phone call.”

  “I think you should know, if any of your staff turn up missing, I’m going to know it’s you, Alastair.” Where Coop got the balls to open his mouth, he had no idea.

  Delighted laughter echoed around the empty diner. “I’m starting to like you, boy.” A heavy hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed. “I also find it hilarious that you believe you’d be able to do anything should I decide to punish that lowlife by putting him to death.”

  Putting him to death? The antiquated term brought to mind Game of Thrones and punishments meted out to unfortunate characters on the show.

  As Alastair walked away, Coop turned incredulous eyes to Summer. “Putting him to death?” he couldn’t help repeating. “What the fuck?”

  “He’s messing with you, Coop.”

  “Is he? Because I’m pretty sure he’s not.”

  “Well, he’s right about one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  She shrugged. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

  His brows clashed together. “You act as if warlocks murdering muggles is an everyday occurrence.”

  “Muggles?” she giggled. “I still can’t believe you refer to yourself as a muggle.”

  He refused to acknowledge her comment and reached for a glass of water in front of him.

  Summer stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

  Keaton’s warning from the day Coop found out Summer was a witch resurfaced. “Why?”

  “You never know what potion the evil warlock might have put in the muggle’s water.” Deviltry sparkled in her eyes.

  “You’re a wicked little minx. Tonight I’ll spank you again.” He took a sip of the water and, for effect, clutched his throat.

  “Not funny, Cooper Carlyle.”

  His own laughter rang out, and he leaned to touch his nose to hers. “Good to know you care.”

  “Pfft.”

  When Alastair returned, he wore a no-nonsense mask. “Now to the subject of returning my property.”

  Summer folded her arms across her chest and prepared for battle. “You’re not getting Morty, daddy dearest. Give it up.”

  Her father’s lips twitched. “After all these years, it’s nice to hear you call me dad.”

  Both father and daughter wore matching looks of cold amusement.

  “Whatever. You’re not getting my sweet boy,” she said.

  Frustration fueled Alastair’s exhalation. “You don’t understand, child. I need him.”

  “Because of the paintings?” Coop asked.

  Summer smacked a hand to his forehead. “I thought we were keeping that between us.”

  “Obviously, you know nothing about interrogation tactics,” he retorted as he rubbed the spot over his brow. “It’s an art.”

  “Speaking of art,” Alastair’s cultured tones opposed the blatant amusement dancing in his eyes. “What paintings?”

  Summer opened her mouth to reply.

  Coop anticipated her action and fastened his hand over her mouth. “Why don’t you tell us? If I recall correctly, you mentioned you liked to watch him paint.”

  Summer licked his palm, and he jerked his hand away as if on fire. The action brought to mind the first time they made love. Heat scorched Coop’s neck when Summer winked.

  “Shall I book you a room?” Alastair sounded and looked decidedly less amused this time.

  “No, thanks. I have a perfectly good hayloft,” she replied.

  Coop avoided Alastair’s eyes and leaned close to murmur, “Uh, babe, he’s your father whether you like it or not. And fathers tend to frown upon the idea of their daughters doing the deed. Let’s not piss off the powerful warlock who can shrivel my man parts, okay?”

  “I’ll un-shrivel them,” she returned and patted his leg.

  Alastair’s choked laughter was a good sign, right?

  “Can we please focus here?” Coop begged. Yep, he’d definitely checked his man card at the door.

  Father and daughter shared another amused glance.

  Well, at least they were bonding, right?

  Alastair picked up the lead. “I need Marty’s memories.”

  “Morty,” Coop and Summer corrected.

  “Morty,” Alastair acknowledged. “Believe it or not, I care about animals as much as you.”

  “Right. Is that why White Labs tests everything from mice to monkeys to puppies?” Summer scoffed.

  “How much do you know about my business holdings?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t even know you owned the lab until the day you showed up in the driveway.”

  “My point exactly. I purchased the business two weeks before your beloved GiGi made off with all the animals.” Alastair gave Coop’s water a pointed look and raised his own water in salute before he turned his attention back to Summer. “It didn’t concern me if she chose to free them. All animal testing had been discontinued the second I took over, and I knew they’d be safe wherever she re-homed them.” With careful precision he placed his glass in the center of a paper napkin. “I didn’t come for your pet until I realized he had valuable information I need. I was content to let you keep him. I still am as long as I can extract what I require.”

  “How do you plan to go about that?” she demanded.

  A warm smile blossomed on the older man’s face. “The same way you do, child. I’ll ask him and allow him to show me the pictures of his mind.”

  “So I inherited that ability from you as well?”

  “You did. While all the Thornes can understand animal speak, only a handful of us can actually see the images they provide.” He indicated the hand she rested on the table. “May I?”

  Summer held it out palm up.

  Coop had no idea what the fuck was happening or why. But because she showed no fear, he reined in his own.

  A red arc of light shot from the fingers Alastair trailed along her palm.

  Coop attempted to interfere, but Summer placed her opposite hand on his chest.

  “He’s not hurting me, Coop. It’s like an animal sniffing your hand. He’s testing my magic.”

  “Well, it’s fucking weird if you ask me,” he muttered.

  Again, Alastair’s lips twitched. “I can check your level of magic next if you’d like.”

  “What magic? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Why the Carlyle witches, of course.”

  “Carlyle witches?” Coop and Summer echoed, mouths agape.

  Completely out of character, Alastair snorted. And damned if he didn’t sound just like Summer when she was scoffing at Coop.

  “If I had to guess, your parents bound your powers.”

  “Okay, hold the boat. Are you saying Coop and Keaton are warlocks?”

  “I am. Any born of that line have power.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Coop exploded. “Now I know you are making shit up.”

  Summer grabbed his hand and shoved it toward Alastair.

  The desire to snatch it back overwhelmed him and had h
im sweating bullets.

  “May I?” Alastair asked.

  Coop gave a curt nod.

  Red arced from Alastair’s fingertips. A tickling sensation started in his palm and, one by one, spread to his fingers. As it traveled the length of his arm, Cooper’s nerves got the better of him, and he pulled back.

  “Did you feel the surge, son?” Alastair asked.

  “Yeah. What was that?”

  “That, my warlock friend, was magic.”

  “You’re not a muggle,” Summer laughed.

  Fuck a duck!

  * * *

  Coop looked like Summer had asked him to eat green eggs and ham. His sickly expression didn’t bode well for his state of mind.

  She gripped his hand under the table and turned her attention to Alastair.

  His watchful gaze noted everything and caused a shiver of appreciation for the master manipulator he must be.

  “Calling you dad or father after all this time seems odd,” she said.

  His face hardened. “You still believe Preston is your father?”

  “No.” She sighed and shook her head. “No, I don’t. But you have to understand, I’ve had twenty years of believing you to be the bad guy in this little family drama. While I am adult enough to realize not everything is one-sided, a small part of me knows you’re not as innocent as you’d have me believe.”

  She shot a quick glance in Coop’s direction. His coloring was returning to normal, but the troubled look still remained.

  “I suppose I’ll continue to call you Alastair until I get to know you better if that’s all right.”

  Shockingly, Alastair cleared his throat as if his emotions got the better of him. “You… you want to get to know me better?”

  Summer bit her lip and nodded.

  “I’d like that,” he admitted. “Very much.”

  “I have one condition. Well, more than one really.”

  Amusement twisted his lips. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “One, you cannot threaten Coop. Not in look, not in deed, not ever. What happens—or doesn’t—in my relationship is between him and I.”

  “No breaking him if he breaks your heart. Got it.”

  She pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh. Laughing during serious negotiations was a no-no.

  “Two, you cannot hurt Morty.”

  Ice coated his words as he said, “I don’t go around hurting innocent creatures, Summer. Despite what you may think of me.”

  “I don’t think anything of you.”

  His blond brows shot skyward.

  “Or, um, what I meant to say is that I’m trying to start this relationship with a clean slate.” She leaned forward in her seat and took the large, ringed hand in hers.

  Silently, she studied the scars on the back of his hand.

  “If you have questions, ask.”

  Unable to meet his probing gaze, she shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m ready for the answers.”

  His hand tightened over hers, but not to the point of pain. “When you are, I’ll answer honestly.”

  “I get the feeling you’re always honest. Brutally so.”

  “Look at me, child.”

  Unexpected tears flooded the eyes she lifted to his.

  “When you know me better, you’ll know whatever I’ve done, good or bad, has been for you or your mother.”

  She picked up his air of sadness and tightened her own fingers before she released him.

  With a clearing of her throat, she continued. “Three, I intend to be there when you retrieve whatever information from Morty that you suspect he knows.”

  Alastair nodded his acceptance of her condition.

  “Four, you have to train me and Coop in magic.”

  “Excuse me?” Coop, who’d remained silent and watchful, straightened in his seat.

  His dark scowl had her rushing to explain. “If you truly have latent power, you need to uncover it and learn how to use it. And we all know how hit or miss mine is.”

  “I don’t have power, Summer. This is some twisted joke on his part.” Coop jerked his chin in Alastair’s direction. “I’d know if my parents were witches.”

  “Would you?”

  They both whipped their heads around to stare at Alastair.

  “If a witch or warlock didn’t want you to know what they were, believe me, you wouldn’t know. The Thorne sisters have lived next door to you for your entire life, boy. You had no idea what they are.”

  “Not my entire life,” Coop grumbled.

  “Summer. Care to inform him of the truth?”

  “What truth?” Coop demanded. “Summer?”

  She winced. With a glare in Alastair’s direction, she confessed, “We’ve always lived on our estate. We made up the story of moving to Leiper’s Fork when we were teens.”

  “No way! You’re our neighbor. I think we would’ve…” He shook his head when it sunk in. “A cloaking spell? For years?” When she nodded, he asked, “What was the purpose?”

  Alastair answered for her. “When witches are young and testing their boundaries, they need to be kept away from the population at large. Only when they have learned not to share what they are and to curb the impulse to use magic in public, will they be allowed to join the non-magical community.”

  “But we met when we were children,” Coop argued.

  Summer shifted to face him. “We all wanted to see the fireworks and were relentless in pestering Dad—er, Preston. He and my mother bound our powers for the day. We were sworn to secrecy under the threat of severe punishment if we spoke a word about magic.”

  “Then what? You went back home, put up your invisible barriers and went about your life for the next nine years?”

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “Your children will be treated the same way? Shut away from society?” he demanded.

  The words “your children” hurt. It was as if he took himself out of the running for fathering her kids.

  “Yes.”

  “Kids need social interaction, Summer. Look at you and your sisters. You’re practically outsiders in this town.” He shook his head and slapped the table. “You have no real friends. No…” He pinned her with a frustrated stare. “It’s no wonder you clung to your crush. You’ve never had any real-life socialization.”

  Clung to her crush? As if she didn’t love him?

  “I’ve had plenty ‘real-life socialization’, Coop. I left and went to college, remember? Friends are tricky because I don’t like lying. But I’ve had boyfriends and lovers.”

  His mouth tightened. “Are you saying it was okay to lie to boyfriends and… lovers?”

  She looked to Alastair. “Care to help me out here?”

  “I’m Switzerland in this conversation.”

  “Thanks a lot.” Summer blew out a breath and faced an irate Coop. She searched for the right words, found herself at a loss, and decided to speak from the heart. “Coop, if you truly are a warlock, if your parents are descended from witches, you would have been raised the same way. I can only assume they felt as you do right now and decided to bind you and Keaton in order for you to have a normal childhood.”

  His brows slashed downward.

  “If you had been raised like I was, then yes, you would’ve lied to girlfriends and lovers, just as I’ve had to lie to anyone who’s gotten close,” she told him.

  She touched his face but dropped her hand when he flinched. “I’ve never lied to you.”

  “Never? Not all those times we found Eddie in our pool?” he ground out. “How about the downtown goat incident? Not then either?”

  Alastair took exception to Coop’s temper. “Tone, boy. You’ll want to watch it.”

  Coop was in no mood to be threatened. “Condition one, remember, old man?”

  Summer froze. Goddess, this was about to get ugly.

  “Okay, and on that note, it’s time for us to go!” she said, infusing a false brightness into her tone.

/>   Coop stormed from the restaurant without a backward glance.

  Her stomach clenched, and her heart fell to her toes.

  A hand rested on her shoulder. “Give him time, child. He’ll come around.”

  “I don’t know. He’s had an aversion to me being a witch from the beginning.” She faced Alastair. “Now, add the fact my father is powerful enough to wipe this little town he loves so much right off the map, and the fact that I’ve lied…” She trailed off with a shrug.

  Heart heavy, she didn’t resist when Alastair pulled her into an embrace. He rested his blond head atop hers and sighed. “Give him time. He loves you. It’s in his every action.”

  Of their own accord, her arms came up and wrapped around Alastair’s midsection. He smelled of exotic spices and cinnamon. Not unpleasant at all.

  When he pulled away, she experienced a sense of loss.

  “He’s waiting for you in his vehicle.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked.

  “He’s parked out front and is glaring at us through the window.”

  24

  “You’ve been a bit of a dick for the last four days. Are you done sulking?”

  Coop lifted his head to find Summer in the doorway of his office. “No.”

  “Fair enough. I’ve brought you lunch.”

  As she unpacked her canvas bag, she held up a candy bar. “Chocolate for your PMS.”

  He bit back a laugh.

  “Cake to sweeten your disposition.”

  He did grin then.

  “Pomegranate.”

  “Why pomegranate?”

  She paused in unloading the groceries. “It helps with erectile disfunction.”

  Someone snorted in the outer office.

  Coop glared through the window leading to the pit. “I do not have erectile disfunction,” he bit out.

  “I know that. But we don’t want to take any chances in the future.”

  He narrowed his eyes. Was she trying to hide a smirk? The little troublemaker.

  “Avocado is an aphrodisiac.” She waved the fruit in the air before placing it in line with the other food.

  “Summer.”

  She looked up from the stash of food, all wide-eyed and innocent.

  “Come here.”

  “Why, Sheriff Carlyle! I declare, I know what that tone of voice means. I’m not that kind of girl,” she teased in a Southern Belle effected tone.