Shame of Clones: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Karma Inc. Files Book 3)

by Melanie James

  “Fu—ouch!” I clumsily jerked my bruised knee to the side. “Son of a…” Then I heard it.

  VRR-RIP!

  “Oh shit! My dress just ripped!” Out of pure instinct, I once again jerked my leg—kicking Gabe right in his throbbing salami, setting off a disastrous chain reaction.

  Ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to our entertainment tonight: Clowns Versus the Laws of Physics!

  “Oof!” My injured werebear lurched forward against the table, his face contorted like he’d just eaten a jalapeno pepper dipped in flaming kerosene.

  The force of his weight shoved the table, pushing me against the back of my chair. I balanced on the back legs, a worried smile on my face. Had disaster been averted? Not a chance. The chair fell backward and I rolled down the two carpeted steps in a reverse somersault, dragging the tablecloth down with me—along with every piece of china, silverware, and crystal. As you might imagine, it created a cacophonous sort of sound, like a monster truck crashing through the front window of a china shop.

  When I came to a stop, I was curled into a ball with my face on the carpet and my ass in the air, mooning the astonished diners. When I say my ass was in the air, I mean it quite literally. My tight little skirt had been peeled away much like discarded giftwrap on Christmas morning. My ridiculously thin, lacy thong had wedged itself so far up the crack of my ass it became a part of my anatomy. God only knows the horrors that filled the eyes of every man, woman and child in the dining room.

  “The table,” I thought. “I can crawl for cover.” Like a soldier crawling through the barbed-wire-laced muck of a battlefield, I scooted for shelter. My brain—disoriented from the concussion, no doubt—thought it was perfectly sane to grab the tablecloth for some quick privacy. After showering myself with some amazed family’s tasty prime rib specials and all their china, I suddenly realized I’d grabbed the cloth from someone else’s table.

  “Déjà vu,” I mumbled.

  Gabe, the poor soul, wrapped me in one, or both, of the white tablecloths and stood me upright. Thank God he held me. I was wobbling quite a bit, looking like the last girl standing after an all-night frat house toga party.

  “Hey! Game warden!” one of the poachers shouted. “Before you drop your slut off at Cheese Nips, let us have a turn with her.”

  A frightening crescendo rose from Gabe’s throat. It was the growl of a bear about to go on a rage-fueled killing spree.

  “Gabe, just let it go. Please, don’t shift,” I pleaded. “Let me get my wand. I’ll—”

  To my surprise, Gabe didn’t shift, but neither did he listen to my plea. “It’s Conservation. Officer,” he shouted, each of his words marked by a step as he marched toward the vulgar man. Without warning, he picked the drunk up by the collar and belt as easily as if the man was as light as a pillow.

  “Wait!” Pearl hustled to the door and swung it open. “Okay, clear!”

  Gabe hurled the man clear across the bar and straight through the doorway. I should have cringed at the thought of that jerk’s face when it slid through gravel, but I felt… satisfaction. The other man ran after his partner, tripping over Pearl’s outstretched foot.

  “Have a nice trip,” Pearl said sweetly, without a tinge of sarcasm.

  “I’m sorry, Kelly. I didn’t mean to knock you down,” Gabe apologized.

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kick your erection,” I replied, hugging him. We kissed until Pearl interrupted.

  “Why don’t you two go home? You can kiss it and make it better, Kelly.”

  “Sorry about causing such a scene, Pearl. Come on Kelly, let’s go.”

  “Don’t feel bad about throwing those bums out. I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to see those creeps get their asses kicked. So thank you. You kids have a good night.” Pearl made it seem as if our embarrassing clown act was somehow a blessing in disguise.

  Gabe leaned through the doorway, looking for signs of the evicted men. “They’re already gone. Come on, Kel. It was a disaster, but any time spent with you is worth it. Just think, we have the whole weekend of this date left. Things can’t get any worse.”

  “Don’t tempt the Fates, Gabe,” I teased, handing my makeshift toga to Pearl.

  We had a good laugh on the ride back to his cabin, but I quietly worried. Last weekend’s webcast debacle followed by the kinky floorshow I’d put on at the Supper Club left me feeling jinxed.

  Chapter Seven

  Time for Dessert

  “What do you say we pick up where we left off earlier?” Gabe said with a boyish smile, opening the cabin door.

  “The part where I kicked you and fell off my chair? Or…”

  Gabe gently placed his finger over my lips and kissed my neck.

  “Ooh, that part. I like the way you think,” I said softly, my sarcasm already surrendering to passion. Gabe’s lips met mine while he skillfully unzipped the back of my tattered dress and slid the straps off my shoulders.

  Not wanting to be the only one getting naked, I tried to match his sensual skills by unbuttoning his shirt. A situation like that is when you realize it’s not fair play. It seemed like there were five hundred buttons to work through and I lost patience at number three. Thankfully, Gabe finished the job.

  I sat down on the edge of the sofa and tried something new. I wanted to be naughty and playful. Again, not fair. Gabe must have a closet full of belts and not a single one has the same type of buckle. My performance was ruined when I fumbled with that buckle like a drunk monkey trying to pick a lock—hardly the sultry seductress I hoped to be.

  Gabe, presumably unable to take any more suspense, unbuckled his belt. It goes without saying I knew exactly how to handle him from there.

  I’d like to pause and share some advice I’d received from Ezzy. When it comes to oral, it’s always about style. Think of going to a fancy French restaurant. The atmosphere has a certain elegance to it, the presentation of the meal is artistic and the pace is deliberately slow. So even though you might be eating greasy snails or something equally disgusting, it somehow becomes the best and most memorable meal you’ve ever had. The same rules apply to oral sex. I had to agree with her. Why cheapen the experience? After all, you wouldn’t pick up a fine French meal in a drive-through only to wolf down the slimy escargot in the seat of your car. It was advice I took to heart and I think if men were to heed her advice, there would be many happy women in the world.

  So, there I was. Truly enjoying the sensations, the textures and tastes of my French cuisine. My goal was to see how long he could stand what I was doing with my mouth and hands before he took control of the situation and brought me to his bed.

  Catching my breath, I looked up. I could see it in his eyes. I went back to work, and when his ab muscles tightened, I thought, “Three, two, one. Time to go.”

  Gabe dropped down on one knee, put an arm under my legs and the other behind my back. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he whisked me away to the bedroom. Bathed in candlelight, we made love in every way I’d fantasized since we last saw each other and even some ways I hadn’t thought of.

  Dawn was breaking when we finally collapsed in each other’s arms, exhausted.

  When I woke up, I tried to focus on the red glowing numbers on Gabe’s alarm clock. It was noon and I was alone. A warm looking robe had been set out on the edge of the bed, presumably for me.

  Eventually, I went looking for Gabe. I was just in time. I found him crossing the living room with a cup of coffee. “Perfect timing. I’ve got a cup of coffee here for you, and breakfast is just about ready.” He kissed me, and it seemed like he was filled with happiness. “Last night was perfect, baby.”

  “Yes, it was. Now coffee, and breakfast? You are really trying to spoil me. You have some ulterior motive?”

  “Hmm. Naw, just happy to have you here with me.”

  Part of me really wanted to say to him, “It’d be okay if you do have an ulterior motive, you know. Especially one that involves an engagement
ring.” But I bit my tongue and responded instead with, “That’s good.”

  ‘That’s good’? Way to sound like a cynical, coldhearted bitch. Ugh, fucking ugh.

  “So, what’s cookin’, good-lookin’?” I teased him, attempting to lighten the mood.

  “Scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, berries, and cinnamon rolls. You know, every bear’s favorites,” Gabe chuckled.

  I couldn’t have imagined a more beautiful place to enjoy breakfast than Gabe’s back deck. The sun illuminated the forest. Deer peacefully nibbled while strolling over a carpet of colorful leaves, painted by autumn’s magical hand. The air had just enough of a chill for the coffee cup to warm my hands. Wisps of steam curled away from my breath as I took it all in. Of course, sharing it with Gabe made it an unforgettable experience.

  I recounted the previous weekend’s calamity in its entirety as well as Karma, Inc.’s sudden death. Surprisingly, I no longer felt upset about it. I was literally in a better place.

  Gabe thought quietly about the situation for a minute. I could tell by the way he stared into the distance that he had some concerns. “What’s on your mind, Gabe?”

  “A couple of things. When the magic failed, I really don’t think it was a coincidence. I mean, think about it. The RV that you’re about to target for mischief suddenly shoots off the road and into a canyon. It’s got to be a set up. Someone else wanted those folks killed or seriously hurt…”

  “And they wanted to set us up to take the fall. You bet I’ve thought about it, but in the end the Schwanzes got away unscathed and we are done with Karma. Of course, if someone was trying to frame us, they’d have to be in the witch community. I know that’s what scared Ezzy off.”

  “Do you think she knows more than she’s letting on?”

  “Nope. I know her too well. If she knew who might want to frame us for a murder, Ezzy would be on the offense. You know Ezzy—she’d be so furious it would be scary. She would literally be planning for war. Instead, she’s very worried about it and laying low.”

  “I think she is trying to find out more on the Schwanzes. Sorry if I worried you, Kelly. I just want to be sure you and your friends aren’t in danger.”

  “I’m fine, really. I’m sure as hell not going to let it interfere with our weekend. And just think, only a few weeks until my cousin’s wedding. I hope you haven’t forgotten.”

  “Of course not. I’m looking forward to meeting all of your family.”

  “You say that now. Once you see what my crazy Italian family is really like, you might run like hell. I wouldn’t blame you.” I winked.

  “Only if you promise to run away with me,” Gabe replied. I wasn’t sure to what extent he meant.

  Facing him, I draped my legs over his lap, opening his robe so I could get a good look at those mouthwatering lower abs and that picture perfect cock of his.

  Let’s be honest. Most guys’ junk isn’t all that attractive when sitting idle. Especially outdoors and in the light of day, they look about as attractive as a newborn mole rat. But Gabe’s perfectly formed cock was already half-erect, and his bronze skin has no tan lines.

  “You know, I could get really used to spending my Saturday mornings like this.” I untied my robe and took in the erotic scenery, which was soon fully erect. Before I knew it, he was on his knees, slowly parting my legs with his gentle touch and soft kisses. Leaning back and offering myself fully, I ran my fingers through his hair while his mouth and tongue took me to a passionate high.

  With my hands on his head, I stared off into the pale blue sky. “I could get used to spending every day with you,” I whispered. “I love you.” My words drifted skyward, unheard, as a surge of ecstasy shot through my body like a lightning bolt.

  The rest of the weekend was spent making love, walking in the woods, making love, cuddling by the fire and making love. Monday evening when I got home, I cried. I had an honest to God heartache. I think Gabe had one too, because the following week he called me a few times a day.

  Our relationship had finally reached the uncharted territories of my heart. I was lost. It’s not like me to be indecisive, but I really didn’t want to be the one to push things ahead. I was waiting for Gabe to make the next move. Somehow, some way, I knew I had to at least give him a sign that I was ready. All I needed was more time with him.

  Two weeks churned by. I buried myself in preparing lesson plans, attending meetings and more meetings about upcoming meetings. Of course, there was testing and more testing as dictated by No Assessment Left Behind. Somewhere in my schedule, I actually got to do a little teaching—just enough to remind myself that my students were living, breathing human beings, waiting for someone to acknowledge they actually existed.

  Something else bothered me. A series of recurring nightmares forced me to relive the trauma of witnessing the Schwanzes’ RV fly off the road and into the canyon. My guess was my psyche was trying to tell me we had nothing to do with it, but I wouldn’t drop the issue. Of course, it was an unresolved affair, considering the Schwanzes’ strange behavior in the aftermath.

  It was probably why, more than ever, I happily anticipated going to my cousin’s wedding with Gabe and discussing all the things we’d do together. When he called that Friday night, my heart broke in two.

  “I’ve got bad news, Kel. Remember the idiot I tossed out of Pearl’s Supper Club?”

  “How could I forget that jerk?”

  “As it turned out, that jerk broke his jaw when he hit the parking lot. Not only that, but his dad is the CEO of a mining company up here and one of the governor’s biggest campaign donors. My boss was able to hold off on the calls for my removal over the past week, but the pressure keeps mounting. He thinks it would be best for me to get out of the spotlight. You know, disappear for a while. He’s sending me on a special assignment.”

  “Oh, Gabe. I’m so sorry. But what assignment could be so special that it makes you disappear? Unless they’re sending you to protect a unicorn, it can’t be that special. Even still, how far can they possibly send you? We’re talking about Wisconsin, not Siberia.”

  “Pretty damn close on both accounts. I’m being sent up to Alaska. I’ll be helping the Department of Fish and Game with a herd of reproductively challenged muskox by collecting glandular secretions from the males.”

  “So they’re sending you to the Arctic to jack off a yak?”

  “Muskox. A yak is… never mind. Yes, manually manipulating the male animal to… oh, what the hell. I’ll be jacking off muskoxen then I’ll be inseminating the females.”

  “Inseminating? With a turkey baster or something? Can’t the muskox do it like everyone else?”

  “They were transplanted from different herds in Canada. Apparently it’s caused some social anxiety or shyness. So, for now it’s the turkey baster.”

  “You have got to be kidding me. Can’t someone just create a Tinder app for muskoxen?”

  “I wish there was, because I’m flying up there tonight. My boss will be here in a few minutes to give me a ride to the airport.”

  I didn’t have much else to say. I pictured Gabe in snowshoes, giant eyedropper in hand, staggering across the frozen tundra from muskox to muskox, giving hand jobs to the huge hairy bovines along the way. How do you console someone for something like that?

  “Okay, Gabe. Be careful, and don’t worry. I’ll come up with some spell to fix this.”

  “Uh… I don’t know. Maybe we should just ride this one out the conventional way. It seems like magic has been… well, kind of… disastrous at times. I prefer a hands-on approach.”

  “If you say so.” I was, of course, disappointed in his lack of confidence. The tone of my voice must have told him as much. But he was the one who would be tugging yak junk. Accomplishing his task via the hands-on technique was his choice. Hands-on it would be.

  Chapter Eight

  Randy Drops By

  The following morning, I’d just poured that essential first cup of coffee and had gotten my laundry done.
Most people would find those two acts to be ridiculously dissimilar. Not for a witch. I may not have achieved a stellar magic record when it came to the big things, but I’d perfected spells to wash, fold, and put away clothes with a wave of my wand.

  It really is the little things that make witchcraft so enjoyable. Got a trashcan so disgusting it would gag a maggot? One zap and poof, it’s gone. A sink full of dirty dishes? Just shake the old wand a few times. Watch them scrub themselves clean and fly back to the cupboards. It can be all finished while you sip on a perfectly, and magically, made cappuccino. Best of all, dogs had a disgusting accident? Zing! All cleaned up.

  In any case, I knew it was time to face the facts. My love life was on hold for the foreseeable future. And thanks to Karma, Inc.’s demise, my financial forecast was dire.

  Just as I was starting to feel quite alone, my living room lit up neon green as a lightning bolt shot up through the floor. “Witches never knock,” I mumbled.

  “Kelly! Kel!” Randy stood there in shock, like he’d seen a two headed ghost. He extended one hand toward me, fanning his face with the other. “Help! Give me CPR! I haven’t had a pulse for three minutes.”

  “What? If you haven’t had a pulse for three minutes you’d be dead, goofball.”

  “There’s no time to joke around.” He ripped his shirt open. “Come on! Pump my heart.”

  “Oh damn. You know what? My Red Cross CPR card expired just last month. I’ve been meaning to get it renewed. But you can be sure I’ll have a new one by the time someone else pops in to die. Sorry, Randy. I’ll sure miss you.”

  Without warning, he picked up a decorative marble bowl from the end table and frantically slapped it against his chest like he was playing Whack-A-Mole with his nipples. As if he hadn’t already done an excellent job of convincing me he’d gone stark raving mad, he started belting out the old disco classic, “Staying Alive.”

  “Randy! What the actual fuck is going on with you?”