by Ashlyn Chase
“Myranda?” She interrupted. “What does Charity mean to you?”
Myranda reared back. She seemed stunned for a moment. “Charity? Are you asking for charity?”
“Huh? Oh, no! Not at all. There’s a spirit behind you—a woman, and she’s telling me to say the word ‘charity.’”
Myranda slapped a hand over her mouth. “My Great Aunt Charity?”
The spirit nodded and Brigit affirmed it for her.
“What else is she saying?” Myranda leaned closer and Brigit listened very carefully as the ghost said something else that made no sense to her. Then she took a penny out of her skirt pocket.
“She’s showing me a penny.”
Myranda’s mouth opened wide. “I—I understand that. What else?”
The spirit placed the penny on Myranda’s shoulder. Now the words she’d been saying came through. Brigit chuckled.
“She just placed the penny on your shoulder, and I think she’s telling you to sit up straight.”
Myranda leaned back and laughed. Then she rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chest and chin. “There. Is that better Aunt Charity?”
The spirit nodded, looking pleased.
“Yup. That’s what she wanted.”
Myranda continued to laugh and crossed her legs. “That’s her all right. She used to put a penny on my shoulder and one on my brother’s shoulder and tell us that whoever kept their penny on the longest could keep it.
Of course, we weren’t playing along for the money. We knew the value of a penny wasn’t much to get excited about, but we always fell for the little competition between us. I think it was her way of keeping us from turning summersaults all over her house, and it taught us good posture at the same time.
Brigit laughed. “I’ll have to remember that trick. Except that my child won’t have a sister or brother. Oh well. I can just use that trick to teach good posture.”
Myranda smiled. “How do you know you won’t have more?”
Brigit’s face must have betrayed her. “It’s...it’s complicated.”
“Does Ethan have something to do with it?”
Startled, she opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t think of what to say. “Um...Why do you ask that?”
Myranda shrugged one shoulder as if the other one was balancing a penny. “Just a vibe Yvonne and I got at the last coven ritual—and then again yesterday.”
“Seriously? We’re giving off vibes now?”
“Sure. It happens all the time. I like the idea of you two being together. You make a cute couple.”
Brigit was about to halt the whole conversation, but she remembered the last time she was here, and Myranda saw an obstacle in her crystal ball. Maybe now she could tell her what it was.
“I think I see what’s happening, Brigit.”
“You do?” Boy, she’s good. I didn’t even have to ask.
“You and Ethan. You think one of you will be asked to leave the coven if Hanna finds out you’re together.”
Brigit shot to her feet. “What?”
Myranda stared at her. “You knew the coven was supposed to be made up of unrelated individuals, right?”
“Huh? No. When did that happen?”
Myranda worried her lip. “That’s the way it’s been since Michele and Donovan...well, I shouldn’t gossip.”
“Please?”
“No. I don’t do to others what I don’t want done to me and that includes gossiping.”
She humphed. “Is that why Dru left? Because he and Rebecca are a couple?”
“No. He left because he’s a cowboy in Texas.” Myranda chuckled.
Brigit wasn’t seeing the humor in the situation. “Are you saying that if Ethan and I were a couple, Hanna would make one of us quit?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask Hanna.”
“Well, that’s not a problem, because we’re not a couple. I just didn’t know about that rule.”
“It’s not a rule—I don’t think it is, anyway. She just doesn’t like complicated dynamics. I remember her saying something about it when Donovan was booted out.”
“I was in California then.”
“Yes. You came along right after that.”
“I replaced someone that moved away, I thought.”
“It feels like you’ve been with us since the beginning.”
Brigit noticed the subtle change in subject. She couldn’t help wondering what the hell happened. “Was Ethan one of the original members?”
“No. He came in right before you did.”
“So there were a couple of changes?”
“It takes some people a while to feel it out and decide if it fits into their lives or not. As you know, it requires a lot of dedication.”
“That’s true.” As Brigid let her mind wander, Myranda’s Aunt Charity disappeared. Maybe that’s what happened if a medium lost her concentration.
“So, what do you think about my clairvoyance? Would it be all right it I read clients? Maybe I could do a few for free to get more practice.”
Myranda grimaced. “Yikes. I don’t want to give the impression that anyone working here is less than an experienced professional. Maybe you could read the other coven members first.”
“That’s a good idea. We’re getting together for Yule soon. Will you be there?”
“Always.”
“Does your husband ever have a Christmas party or anything that interferes this time of year?”
“If he does, he goes without me. He knows when our coven meets, I have an obligation to be there. Besides, I can’t think of any party I’d rather attend.” Myranda grinned.
“He sounds pretty understanding. It’s good to know that men like that exist.”
“Granted, they’re few and far between. But trust me, they’re out there. Your Ethan is one of them.”
She didn’t have to ask how Myranda knew that. The woman was as psychic as Edgar Casey. She was beginning to entertain the idea of incorporating Ethan into her life to the extent he wanted. He seemed realistic about not marrying. And if what he said about not wanting to date other people was true, she could handle being in a relationship. But now there was this new wrinkle. Would one of them have to leave the coven?
She glanced toward the front of the store and noticed it was starting to snow. “I have a lot to think about, Myranda. I’d better get home. Something else I need to do is find a maternity coat pattern.”
“Oh! That’s right. You’ll need new clothes soon. You sew?”
“Yup. And it’s a good thing too. I can’t afford to go shopping right now, but I can probably add some stretchy panels to a few existing items and I have an Indian blanket that I thought would make a pretty coat.”
“Wow. You really are resourceful. Don’t worry, Mama. I know you’ll be just fine.”
Brigit appreciated the vote of confidence. Her own confidence was waning like the moon.
* * * *
When she arrived home, she was surprised to find her mother, stepfather, and a stranger in her little guest house. There was someone else sitting on her couch, but with his head down, she couldn’t see his face. Then he lifted it.
“Ethan?” There was a defeated look in his eyes that she’d never seen before, and his hair was sticking up as if he’d raked his fingers through it and left it like that. Then she noticed his clothes. They were damp and rumbled.
Her mother was wringing her hands.
“I told you I’d find him, and I did,” her stepfather boasted.
“What’s going on?” she asked, wishing this weren’t happening at all. It was Ethan’s appearance that worried her the most. He was usually clean cut—maybe a little windblown, but not like this. Then she spotted the swelling and redness on his cheek.
She quickly sat beside him, touched the spot and he winced. “What happened? Did he hit you?” she asked incredulously.
“No. I fell.”
She cocked her head. Would he lie to protect her stepfather? She whi
rled on him. “Did you hit him, Jonathan?”
“No. I didn’t touch him.”
The stranger spoke up. “I yanked him by the collar and he fell off his boat. Don’t you believe your fiancée?”
Fiancée? “Now wait just a minute,” she snapped. “Ethan and I agreed that we’re not ready to take that step. Who are you to decide—”
Her stepfather barked a laugh. “Not ready? You’re both in your thirties. You’ve known each other since high school. You’re pregnant! Just when the hell do you think you’ll be ready?”
“I—I don’t know, but we won’t be bullied into marriage.”
Ethan rested his hand on her knee. “I think your father is right, Bridge. It’s not like we’re strangers. And I promised I’d step-up and take responsibility.”
“You promised who?”
He nodded toward Mr. and Mrs. Graham. “Them.”
“And you promised me you wouldn’t.”
Ethan stared at her stepfather. “I told you this wouldn’t go well.”
Brigit then pointed to the stranger. “Who are you?”
“Just someone I hired to help me,” Jonathan said before the stranger could answer.
“And if you’re satisfied with my services, I think I’ll leave now.”
Mr. Graham nodded.
“Not so fast. I think the police need to be called,” Brigit said.
Ethan glanced over at her. “Police? What for?”
“He caused you to fall and you got hurt. Don’t you want to press charges?”
The guy barked a laugh.
Ethan shook his head. “No. Let him go.”
Brigit strode to the door, opened it for the dark, menacing man and slammed it behind him. Then she hurried back to Ethan. “Do you want an ice pack?”
“Do you have one?”
Her mother spoke up. “I’ll make one for him.”
Brigit let her mother take care of that chore. She looked like she needed something to do besides worry. Sitting next to Ethan again, she asked, “Are you badly hurt?”
“No. It’s just a bruise.”
“Stop fussing over him,” her stepfather snapped. “You’re the one who needs medical attention.”
“Me? What are you talking about?”
“You’re pregnant. Or did you forget?”
She rose and frowned at Mr. Graham. “I’m fine. I already started pre-natal vitamins and I have a doctor’s appointment next week.”
“Who’s going to pay for that?”
“I am,” she said.
“No, Bridge. I am,” Ethan corrected her.
Her stepfather nodded. “Smart man. Now, when is the wedding?”
“Jonathan!” Mrs. Graham reentered the room, wrapping a clean dish towel around a plastic bag of ice. “Here you go, dear.” She handed the ice pack to Ethan and he pressed it to his injured cheek.
“I see no reason to delay the inevitable,” Mr. Graham said.
Brigit practically screamed, “Get out. Now!”
Her stepfather pointed at her and said, “You forget this is my house. If you’re too stubborn to get married like a normal person in your situation, maybe I’ll ask you to leave.”
“Stop it!” Mrs. Graham stomped her foot. “Nobody is going anywhere. We should be talking about this like adults.”
“Your mother is right,” Ethan said. “I know you might not believe me, Mr. Graham, but I was getting ready to propose anyway.”
“Why wouldn’t I believe you?” he asked. “You seem like a decent sort. I just wish you had been a little quicker about it.”
“I was getting my grandmother’s ring sized.”
Brigit suddenly felt tears pricking her eyes. She strode to her door and opened it. “Can you two please give us some time alone?”
“Of course,” her mother said. She took her husband’s arm and pulled. He seemed reluctant to go at first.
Finally he left, saying, “We’ll be waiting for your decision.”
Brigit bit her tongue until they cleared the door and then slammed it. “Oh, Goddess! This is a disaster. I’m so sorry, Ethan.”
He rose, set the ice pack on the table and went to her. Taking her face in his hands, he touched his lips to hers gently. “I’m only sorry that I didn’t have the candlelight dinner I had planned for you and this is apt to be the memory of your proposal.”
She shook her head and the tears refused to be held back any longer. She hugged his chest, careful not to come near his bruised cheek.
They stood there, holding each other and saying nothing for several moments. At last, Ethan pulled away. He tipped up her face and said, “Is it the thought of marrying me that’s making you cry?”
She chuckled. “No. I’m just a little overwhelmed.”
He shrugged. “I can’t imagine why.” His lip quirked up on one side.
She grabbed his hand and led him back to the couch. “Why don’t I get you a cup of tea—or coffee. I guess I should learn how to make a small pot of coffee for you since that’s what you drink.”
“Do you have any?”
“I think there’s some around here somewhere.”
“Don’t bother, Brigit. I had plenty to drink when I was ass-side up in the river.”
“Oh...” She couldn’t believe what her stepfather had done. The guy who was there earlier must have been the PI he’d hired. She wondered if he knew what a brute the man was and vowed to find out.
“Come and sit next to me,” he said.
She grabbed the ice pack on the way and settled in next to him. “Here. I don’t want to hold it against your cheek in case I push too hard and hurt you again.”
“Thanks,” he took the pack and smiled.
It was the first time he’d smiled since she walked in and it was a relief to see. Ethan was such a good man, and she couldn’t stand the idea of anyone hurting him. She felt as if she was physically hurting too. She didn’t think it was the pregnancy. It wasn’t her stomach that hurt. It was a little higher—around the region of her heart.
He laced their fingers together. “I guess we need to come up with a plan.”
She raised her brows. “Plan?”
“Yeah. You know. Live together or get married? It’s still our decision.”
“Oh. I guess you’re right. I thought, well...Never mind.”
“No, what were you going to say?”
“Well, you said you were getting your grandmother’s ring sized—unless that was just to appease Jonathan.”
“No. It’s true. Yvonne showed me a ring that fit you perfectly when you tried it on and let me borrow it so I could take it to a jeweler. They’re going to call me when it’s ready sometime next week. When is your doctor’s appointment?”
“Um. Why?”
“Because I want to go with you.”
“There won’t be anything to see yet.”
“Well, I should at least go to pay for the appointment. Maybe I can give them my credit card to keep on file until I get you covered on my insurance plan.”
“Wait. That would mean—Doesn’t coverage for someone else make that person a dependent?”
Ethan laughed. “You’ll never be dependent on anyone, Bridge. That’s one of the many things I love about you. Now say you love me too and get me out of this situation with your family.”
* * * *
A short time later, upstairs in Brigit’s bedroom, she smiled and pulled back the covers so Ethan could slide in beside her. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
He chuckled. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Before we get too sidetracked, I just want to know one thing.”
Uh oh. What now? He rested his head on her pillow and rubbed lazy circles over her bare breast. “Mmm? What’s that?”
“Ohhh...Don’t distract me.”
He ginned, but didn’t exactly stop. He held her with his arm draped over both of her breasts. She closed her eyes and cleared her throat as if trying to retrieve her concentrat
ion.
“Did you mean it when you said you’d be content with gentle love-making?”
“Absolutely. Now if that’s all...” He leaned over her breast, prepared to suck that hard pebble, which meant she was turned on. At least he hoped it did.
She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. It was all he could do not to groan.
“There’s something I want you to know too.”
“What’s that?”
“I really do love you,” she said. “I know I behaved badly. I tried to push you away, but that’s because you didn’t go into this to get saddled with a family.”
“I’m not feeling saddled, Bridge. I love you too—more than I thought I could love anyone. Now—will you please stop pushing me away?” He moved her hand until it slipped over his shoulder and gave her a wolfish grin. She chuckled and cupped the back of his head, pulling his mouth to hers. They shared a long, languorous kiss. He felt her gently stroking strands of his hair through her fingers. He hated to think she was trying to brush it.
“I’m afraid the brackish water made my hair pretty stiff,” he whispered against her lips.
“I don’t care. If it’s attached to you, it’s beautiful.”
Wow. How can I top a compliment like that?
Her hand traveled to another part of him that was stiff. He closed his eyes and let the rush of sensation take him to a place where his brain clouded and he couldn’t think—only feel. “Ah, Bridge. That’s good.”
She nipped his lower lip and kissed him as she stroked. He hadn’t seen this side of her before. The little minx was seducing him.
Their tongues sought each other and swirled. She made a sound that would have been a moan, if her lips weren’t fused to his.
Air. He needed air. He broke the kiss and gently pushed her onto her back. She may have lost her grip on his cock, but he would have come too soon if she didn’t. He kissed his way down the column of her neck and licked her collarbone. When he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked she arched into him and moaned.
Love. This is what he’d been missing all these years...And why he’d stayed single. He was waiting for this—for her.
He switched to the other breast and suckled. She was cupping his head, holding him there, as if she never wanted him to stop. Hell, he never wanted to stop. He’d always gotten off on making a woman scream in ecstasy. This was different. It was as if they were choreographing an ancient dance. One of pleasure that reached a primal level.
