Don't Hex and Drive

by Juliette Cross

  “Hey, Isadora,” said Evie, her ponytail swinging as she stopped in front of me. “You need me for something?”

  “I just need to talk to”—I pointed over her shoulder—“him.”

  “You just missed the funniest stories I’ve ever heard.” She laughed as she strode toward a lone customer at one of the booths along the wall.

  Violet was walking away, too, but she turned back to Devraj. “You’re coming for dinner Sunday, right?”

  Violet! I was going to skin her alive, then bury her in the backyard in an ant bed, then resuscitate her with my magic so I could do it all over again. Why? Why were my sisters torturing me?

  He was standing now. “Nothing would give me more pleasure.” His eyes were still on me as I approached.

  “Mr. Kumar,” I said a little shakily, “might I have a word with you outside?”

  “Absolutely.” He dipped his head in a slight nod, his long hair sliding forward over one shoulder before he said formally, “After you, Miss Savoie.”

  I marched for the exit, not trusting my sisters who liked to eavesdrop. Pushing open the door with a little too much force, I exhaled a calming breath before I spun to face him. The amusement twinkling in his eyes and lifting the corner of his mouth made me want to punch something. Preferably his perfect face. He was lucky I wasn’t a violent person.

  I crossed my arms, feeling defensive and angsty. He mirrored me.

  “I believe you have something of mine,” I stated, low and with some bite.

  “What might that be?” All innocence. Yeah, right.

  “A certain package.”

  He lifted a hand and smoothed the short beard of his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Hmm. I’m not sure. Describe what’s in this package.”

  Really? He was going to play it this way? Unbelievable!

  “I am not going to describe it to you, pervert.”

  He chuckled and then grinned openly.

  “You are well aware of what I’m talking about.” I glanced back toward the door of the Cauldron, afraid one of my sisters might suddenly appear and overhear us. Then I whispered, “Big John.”

  Those warm brown eyes trailed from my eyes down to my lips. “Big John, is it?” But his thoughts seemed miles away.

  “You have it?” I demanded, clearing the breathiness out of my voice.

  He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed. “Have dinner with me.”

  I blew out a sigh. “No. Give me back my package.”

  “You seem kind of desperate for it.” The wickedness was back in his eyes. Ten-fold.

  “You can’t keep it hostage.”

  “Can’t I?”

  Hands on both my hips, I argued, “I paid for it. Are you seriously going to steal my vibrator? I’d say you’re the desperate one if that’s the case.”

  He let out a bark of laughter, his white teeth gleaming. Still no canines. That was a relief at least.

  “Why won’t you share a meal with me?” he asked, his voice softening. The velvety-dark timbre was unfair for any man to possess. But then, he wasn’t just a man, now was he?

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  Exasperating! I didn’t like to hurt people’s feelings, but if he was going to push me, then it was his fault. “If you must know, I don’t particularly like you.”

  “Everybody likes me.”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  He arched a brow, smiling wider. “You don’t even know me.”

  “And I don’t care to. Why is it so important that I eat dinner or lunch or whatever with you? Because I keep refusing you?”

  “Maybe.”

  It was my turn to tilt my head back and laugh. “You are something else.”

  “So I’m told.”

  “I don’t mean that in a good way.”

  “But maybe you really do?” He inched closer, the size and breadth of him suddenly filling up my personal space.

  “You can’t sweet-talk me, Devraj. I’m immune.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Ughhh. I just want my package back. That’s it.”

  He recognized the obvious frustration in my voice and posture. He measured me for several more seconds before his teasing expression morphed into sincerity. “Fine then. Swing by and pick it up this afternoon.”

  I frowned, not exactly keen on the idea of going to his house. Like walking into the dragon’s lair.

  “Or,” he said slowly, “I could drop it by later, though I’m sure your sisters might get a good kick out of the fact that I accidentally opened it and found quite a surprise inside.”

  Flames licked up my cheeks. My sisters and I didn’t hide things from each other. Or, at least, not those kinds of things. I was sure Violet and Jules were hiding a shit-ton from the rest of us. But I did not want to be the butt of the joke for them for the next month. Violet could be merciless with embarrassing things like our neighbor vamp receiving my vibrator by mistake.

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’ll come by after work and pick it up.”

  “What time do you get off?”

  “I’ll finish about four o’clock today. Clara usually closes unless she needs me to.”

  “Good. Four o’clock.” He smiled. “It’s a date.”

  “Devraj.” I snorted a laugh, unable to suppress it. “Me knocking on your door and standing on your porch is not a date.”

  He backed away, holding my gaze. “I look forward to seeing you soon.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “I think you mean marvelous.”

  “Oh. I have plenty of other names for you.”

  “I look forward to hearing all of them this afternoon.” He winked, flashing his charming smile. “Four o’clock.” Then he turned and strode down Magazine.

  “What’s going on there?”

  I jumped and gasped at the same time. Violet held the door to the Cauldron open, watching me watch Devraj walk away. Why was I watching him?

  “Nothing,” I said, squeezing past her and zipping through the bar to get mine and Clara’s lunch so I could get the hell out of there and away from him as fast as possible.

  Chapter 7

  ~ISADORA~

  * * *

  The rest of the day crawled by. I didn’t like my new precious in the hands of that freaking vampire. I mean, I didn’t think he was actually playing with it or anything, but his attempts to get under my skin were working. I didn’t embarrass all that easily, but remembering his complete amusement at my expense had my cheeks flushing with heat yet again.

  I spent the afternoon working on the books, but that didn’t take long enough. I finished with too much time on my hands. So I started on payroll, even though payday wasn’t until Monday. After that, I strolled back to the inventory closet and decided that the organization needed readjusting.

  I mean, honestly, how can we mix the Tarot cards on the same shelf as the Oracle? They’re two entirely different things. Well, not entirely, but it’s best not to get them confused. And the new shipment of geodes were stacked in boxes next to the crystals. If for some reason Livvy decided to fill shelf space in Clara’s absence, she’d more than likely just toss anything out there without thinking. Don’t get me wrong. Livvy was brilliant—at marketing, promotion, and anything techy that we needed. But don’t let her get near the products she sells so well.

  By the time I finished, it was still only three o’clock. I decided to dust the shelves, much to Z’s disgust. He found a table to hide under while Clara cozied up to an elderly woman in need of some pain healing. Clara brought her over to the packets of teas, the ones I’d made specifically to help with muscle and arthritic pain.

  At five minutes to four, I opened the cabinet under the register, getting ready to tear out of there when the shop door swung open and in stepped three boisterous young women.

  “Oh. My. God. Would you look at this place?” A statuesque blonde clapped her hands together loudly.

>   “Too adorbs,” said the pretty brunette in a halter top. “Like it’s real witchy stuff and everything.”

  I had a quick flashback to high school where groups of girlfriends like this found it so easy to move and talk freely in social situations. Whereas I would just break out into a sweat, trying to find the right words to say. Fortunately, I always had my sisters to lean on when I’d clam up.

  The third one wearing the halter top picked up a very expensive crystal ball. “Brittany, you could totally tell my future.”

  “No need,” replied the blonde. “You’ll be slutting it up with Jared again this weekend,” she said, lifting a geode of purple crystals. “There’s your fortune.”

  “Bitch,” mumbled Halter Top girl. “You’re just jealous.”

  They congregated around the crystals, picking up and touching them. Like all of them.

  “Maybe,” said the blonde, “but I told you he was bad news.”

  “I don’t care if he’s bad news,” responded her friend, picking up a deck of Oracle cards. “As long as he’s good in bed.” Then she knocked over several decks of cards on a standing display. “Oops.”

  They dissolved into giggles. I glanced over at Clara where she was still talking to the older woman near our selection of teas, then sighed heavily.

  I’d backed up behind the register almost to the short hall where my office was. I hated dealing with customers like this. Okay, I didn’t care much for dealing with customers at all.

  My heart beat faster as I prepared to handle this, which I didn’t want to do. It just made me nervous. This is why Clara handled the front of the house.

  “Excuse me,” I said, approaching the blonde. “Can I help you with something?”

  I was aware my polite voice hadn’t made an appearance and I came across a little aggressive. I was so shitty at this. My palms were actually sweating.

  “It’s okay, Isadora,” said Clara, coming up beside me and putting a hand on my back, washing me with a wave of her joy spell. She fed it into me like I fed healing into Archie and the other animals.

  I met her gaze and gave her my relieved thank-you-I-love-you expression. She smiled wider.

  “I can help these ladies. Besides, I think someone is here for you.” She nodded toward the shop door.

  Standing just inside with his hands in his pockets was Devraj, taking in the whole scene. How long had he been there?

  “Thanks, Clara,” I whispered, then headed to the register to pull out my handbag from the cabinet beneath.

  And no, I didn’t miss those women ogling Devraj, maybe even drooling, as I swept toward him and the door.

  “Was passing by right at four o’clock. Thought I’d walk you.”

  “That’s fine,” I said, rushing past him. Just glad to get out of there.

  He followed and fell into step beside me.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He arched a puzzled expression down at me. “You seemed a little nervous back there.”

  “Did I?”

  How did I explain my social anxiety to someone who thrived off of fame and attention, who entertained strangers in bars with his wild stories?

  “Hmm,” was all he responded with.

  I didn’t know what that meant, and I wasn’t about to spill all of my little insecurities or quirks, so we remained silent the short walk to his front porch. But I couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread in my chest at his obvious concern. It didn’t seem false, but completely sincere. Could there be more to this guy than I first thought?

  “Would you like to come in?” he asked as he unlocked the door.

  He was wearing the sexy smile now.

  Danger, Isadora. Danger.

  “No. I’m good. I’ll wait right here.”

  His smile didn’t diminish. If anything, it brightened at my resistance. He gestured toward the cushioned bench on his porch.

  So I settled onto the bench and waited. And waited. A long time for him to just pick up a package and bring it out to me. Right when I was about to stand and knock to find out what was taking so long, he stepped out holding two cups of what smelled like spiced tea.

  He handed one to me. “I thought you might like some tea.”

  The dainty cups with silver trim set on matching saucers looked too small in his long-fingered hands. I noticed he wore a thick silver band on his index finger of one hand and a gold cuff bracelet with black beading on his opposite wrist.

  I was about to protest and tell him I just wanted to pick up my package and head home, but that would be pretty rude. Besides, the tea smelled divine. All that I managed to say was, “It’s been a long day.” It definitely sounded like a complaint.

  He tilted his head slightly, raising his brow and giving me a genuinely compassionate look. “I think this chai might hit the spot after a long day.”

  Dammit! I couldn’t dislike this guy when he was kind. And made me tea! As a matter of fact, all my reasons for disliking him in the first place seemed to vanish more rapidly the longer I was in his company.

  I was the only tea drinker in the house except when someone needed my healing brews, so to have a cup I didn’t make myself was a rare occasion indeed.

  I was still uncomfortable in his presence. My back was stiff from sitting so straight and my neck was suddenly a little sweaty. I still wasn’t sure why he was trying to spend time with me, but he was being kind. And I wasn’t a rude asshole.

  So I tried to relax just a little and took a deep sip of the chai. Mmm. Perfectly spiced with cinnamon and ginger and sweetened with honey. “It’s very good.”

  He took a seat on the opposite side of the bench, not too close. “I’m pleased to hear you say so.”

  On a glance, I caught him watching me drink the tea, his gaze riveted. I frowned down into my cup. “You didn’t try to drug me or anything, did you?”

  He belted out a laugh. “No, I would never do something like that.”

  “Then why are you staring at me?”

  “If I said it was because I find you extraordinarily beautiful, would you believe me?” His smile was teasing but his eyes were serious.

  I huffed a laugh, trying not to roll my eyes at his sweet talk. The thing was, I wasn’t the prettiest or the edgiest or the most glamorous of my sisters. I liked my green eyes, but I had blond lashes, which meant, because I chose not to wear makeup most the time, I didn’t dazzle the menfolk much with them. I liked my body, too, though I had smaller breasts than even Clara and not many curves to speak of at all. As the tallest, I was more legs than anything else. And that was fine by me. I had some nice assets. And some flaws, some might say. But I didn’t care. I liked myself. Loved myself even. Just the way I was.

  But extraordinarily beautiful?

  I could get dolled up and make myself really pretty if I wanted to, but today with my hair that needed washing twisted in a tight bun, my baggiest mustard-yellow skirt that hit near my ankles and a plain white V-neck shirt that had a frayed hem, I was far from the ideal beauty.

  I sipped my tea and narrowed my eyes on him, which only made his smile brighten. “I would think you want something from me.”

  His grin widened. “Maybe I’m telling the truth and I want something.” He crossed an ankle over one knee and balanced the tea in the crook of the bent leg, staring intently as I tried to read behind that cryptic line. I was still musing when he asked, “So tell me, how did you become a hermit?”

  I coughed on the sip of chai I was swallowing and set the cup in my lap. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I asked around about the reclusive witch, Isadora Savoie,” he said with no shame at all.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I was curious.”

  “And what? Someone told you I’m a hermit?”

  He shrugged one shoulder, resting his arm closest to me along the back of the bench, his fingers brushing awfully close to my shoulder. “Some didn’t even know who I
was talking about. They knew all the sisters, but you. Until I mentioned you were the one who rode a bicycle.”

  I would find this offensive if I actually cared what other people thought of me.

  Angling to face him more, I said clearly and maybe a little defensively, “I’m not a damn hermit. Just an introvert.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  I licked my lips before continuing on. His gaze dropped to my mouth, which had my pulse tripping faster. And I didn’t like that feeling one bit.

  “Introverts simply prefer to be alone and not to be annoyed by other…humans.”

  “So do hermits.” He arched an accusing brow, tapping his forefinger with the wide silver band along the back of the wrought iron bench.

  “Look.” I blew out an exasperated breath, not exactly thrilled about being so frank with a stranger. It was difficult for me to open up, especially to someone like him. Mr. Fancy Pants with fancy cars and a fancy life. “I just have a lower tolerance for people.”

  His sudden laughter shook something loose inside me. “Low tolerance for people?”

  “They annoy me,” I mumbled.

  “Like I am?”

  I pressed my lips tightly together, determined not to answer that question. But the smug expression on his face pulled it out of me.

  “Exactly.” I drained my cup. “Even if you do make passable tea.”

  It was better than passable, but Devraj didn’t need too many compliments. His ego was already oversize. His grin spread, merriment written in every line of his face and in his sparkling, dark gaze.

  “Passable, eh?” He reached up with his hand that had been resting on the back of the bench and twirled then tugged a loose strand of hair that had fallen from my bun. “I’ll have to up my tea game next time.”

  His nearness and flirtiness disturbed me. I stood and smoothed the lock of hair he’d touched then held out my empty cup and saucer. “Thank you for the tea. May I have what I came for now?”

  Without hesitation, he took my cup and headed for the front door. Well, that was easy. He balanced one saucer on his forearm while opening the door, which was kind of impressive for such a large guy.