Miki stabbed her fork through a ladyfinger. How ironic. Back when this had exploded on her birthday, all she’d wanted was to get laid. Well, she’d gotten screwed all right. Royally. And unlike sex with Perry, this was the screwing that just kept on giving.
A distinctive, high-pitched giggle rose above the restaurant noise and sent the tiny hairs on the back of Miki’s neck into spasms while her stomach cringed. A tremor shook the restaurant and Teri grabbed the flower vase on their table just before it could launch itself across the room.
Anja, one of the café owners, gave a wide-eyed look around, as if trying to pinpoint the source of energy. Her eyes met Miki’s and she raised a warning brow.
Quick as a flash, Lena grabbed Miki’s hand in hers. Like a heavy blanket, her energy covered Miki’s with calm serenity. Miki closed her eyes and drew it in, biting her lip to keep the tears at bay.
Not again. Miki looked toward the door and met the gloating gaze of the swine himself as he helped his ladylove, the ever giggly and quite gregarious Pammy, remove her raincoat.
Bland as ever in his unassumingly expensive black suit, Perry watched Miki closely as he ran his hand down Pammy’s back. The petite blonde fluttered at him like she was a butterfly and he was hoarding the only pollen in the garden, but unlike Perry, she didn’t seem aware that Miki was there.
If she had been, she’d blush, stick out her bottom lip, and come over to stutter out one of her trademarked passive-aggressive apologies.
Miki should know. On the few occasions she’d gone out, she’d seen the couple here, there, everywhere. It was the same each time. Santa Monica couldn’t stand too many more of these coincidences. She watched her soon-to-be ex-husband escort her already-ex-business partner to a corner table.
“Damn it, I don’t even get custody of my favorite restaurant. The snake is everywhere,” Miki growled.
“Pig,” Teri corrected. “And those are the breaks, kid. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s a big town. When you’re trying to avoid someone, I promise you’ll see them three times a week. Especially when you move in the same circles.”
“Maybe it’s time to take a break,” Lena suggested.
“Break?” She’d already had the breakup of her marriage and business partnership. With her magic going wild, she was breaking china and crystal left and right. Hadn’t she had enough breaks already?
“You know, to get away from all this crap. A vacation. A chance to relax and regroup in a porcine-free zone.”
“Right. I can’t afford to pay the upcoming property tax bill, and you think I should take a vacation?”
Miki rolled her eyes when Lena’s bottom lip quivered and her eyes got that same guilt-inducing pitiful look Ryan always tried for, but never quite pulled off.
“Knock it off, Lena. You know I’m not really in the position to go relax.” Why did Lena always turn the slightest imagined offense into a freaking miserable pout-fest? Miserable, that was, for whomever she was manipulating.
“I was just making a suggestion, Mikaela. I think a week in Mexico, or even San Diego, would do you good.” Oh, ouch. Full name and pitiful flutter of the lashes.
“I appreciate the thought, but it just isn’t practical.”
“So my thinking is impractical?” Lena’s voice dropped to a growl.
Miki raised a brow and cast her gaze over her sister. It was a dismal, rainy March day and Lena was wearing a sundress and strappy sandals. Miki would bet her copper-bottomed sauté pan the woman didn’t have a coat or an umbrella.
“Yeah. I’d say your thinking—among other things—could be termed impractical. I can barely afford this dessert, Lena. Catch a clue, huh?”
Before Lena could blast her, Teri leaned between them and clanked her spoon on her wine glass. “Ladies, please. No point in putting on a show here.” She cast a meaningful glance at Miki, then over at the corner where Perry sat, nibbling Pammy’s ear between sips of coffee. “Especially for such a gloating audience.”
Miki pressed her lips together and clamped her eyes shut against the rush of tears. God, she couldn’t even have a slap-fight with her sister without that damned pig ruining everything.
“Now,” Teri continued in her best uptight tone, the one that always made Miki smirk since it was such a contrast to her sexy persona, “I think Lena has a point.”
Miki opened her eyes to stare at the usually sane woman. Lena licked chocolate off her spoon, her eyes triumphant.
“Teri—”
“Wait, Miki. I don’t mean about taking a vacation. That’s just irresponsible.”
Lena dropped her spoon in her dish with a clanking clatter and glared at Teri. Miki smirked again.
“I mean you’d do well to get away. Tell me something, how often have you seen Perry this last week? This last month?”
Miki quit simpering at her sister long enough to think about that. She twisted her lips. “A dozen or so times this last month. Not including the lawyer’s office. Every freaking restaurant I go to, every event, there he is.”
“He’s messing with you,” Lena snarled. Snit forgotten, she dug her nails into the table and leaned forward to hiss, “He knows your habits, your favorite places. He’s deliberately showing up wherever you are.”
“Oh please. The man doesn’t care enough to stay married to me. Why would he bother stalking me?”
“He might not care enough to make you happy, but that self-important swine obviously gives a good damn about making you unhappy.”
Even as she shook her head at her sister, Miki peeked over at the corner where Perry and Pammy were canoodling in a disgusting PDA. The last two years, she’d wondered if the man even had a sex-drive and now he was feeling Pammy up over coffee. Pig.
“Lena’s right, Mik. He’s playing you. He’s trying to shake you up, keep you miserable. He’s truly bacon-worthy.”
“Revenge. This cannot go unavenged, Miki. You have to show that boar he can’t screw over a Lansing and get away with it.” Lena was practically frothing at the mouth now.
“I don’t know...”
“You said you couldn’t do any kind of negative magic,” Teri reminded Lena.
“I’m not talking about magic. She can get revenge some other way. It’s just a matter of finding the right plan.”
“I don’t think...”
“Don’t you want to pay him back? Screw him over the way he did you?”
“Lena, I had more control of my powers at five than I do now. I try to create a spark of light and I start an electrical fire. I’m in debt up to my ever-widening ass and out of work. Everything is falling apart and I have no clue how to stop this downward spiral, let alone fix it. The last thing on my mind right now is revenge.”
Even if she wanted revenge, how the hell could she get it when Perry held all the cards? Or in this case, Pammy’s breast. Out of the corner of her eye, Miki glared at the happy couple ruining her last favorite restaurant. Didn’t the guy have a bed in his new place? Not only was he stalking her, he was acting like a pervert, always screwing around in...
Miki’s eyes went wide and her heart stuttered.
“Oh, shit.”
“What?” Lena asked, looking at the hot and heavy couple. “What’s wrong, other than the sucky floor show?”
“I think that floor show is my fault.” Miki sunk her head into her hands and groaned. The smell of chocolate filled her senses, but for once, did nothing to calm her. “Oh, shit.”
“Quit saying that and explain,” Lena berated, swatting her on the arm. “What did you do?”
Miki just groaned again, trying to remember.
“Mik, you can’t blame yourself for Perry’s obnoxious behavior. The guy’s an ass, granted usually a lot more boring than this,” Teri mused, “but even before he took his sex life public, he was a total jerk.”
“Usually a lot more boring...” Lena mumbled.
Miki winced.
“You didn’t.”
With a sigh, Miki raised her head and met
her sister’s horrified stare.
“I think I did.”
“Think?”
“I don’t remember clearly. I was upset, the power came on so suddenly. I just can’t remember.” Panic whipped through Miki, blowing away the lethargy of the previous months. She had to remember, but the harder she tried to focus on the night of her birthday, the blurrier it all became. Tension knotted her shoulders and a throbbing pain lodged itself behind her left eye. “I don’t know, Lena. I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m pretty sure I cursed him.”
“What?” Teri gasped. “I thought that was a ‘no no.’”
“Obviously,” Lena growled with a roll of her eyes. “We have to figure this out. You have to remember what curse you used, Miki. Then you have to remove it.”
“I know what I have to do, Lena,” she ground out. “What I don’t know is how.”
The waiter stopped at the table to clear their plates and the women shooed him away.
“Can’t you just... you know, turn back time or do some kind of general fix-it spell or something?” Teri asked in a fierce whisper.
“I can’t control time.”
“If you had control of your magic, you could go back in time. You could recall the spell and recant it,” Lena told her.
“If I had control. Lena, I don’t. You’ve seen the mess I make of things. And that’s when I’m not trying to use my powers. When I try, it’s even worse. If I tried to go back in time right now, I’d probably end up having cake with Marie Antoinette.”
Tears burned her eyes, but Miki refused to let them fall. She was so tired of feeling helpless, useless.
“Okay,” Lena said. She lay a hand over her sister’s and Miki felt a surge of loving calm pour through her. Like a hug, it was filled with encouragement, hope, and assurance. She gave Lena a grateful smile and let the calm clear her head.
“I guess you’re right,” she said.
“I usually am,” Lena joked. Then she tilted her head to one side, her curls catching the light. “What’re you referring to?”
“I need to get away.”
“Vacation? No, you were right before, that’s a bad idea. You need to deal with this first.”
“I can’t deal with it here. Not with the money worries, stresses, and constant Perry sightings.”
“Where will you go? To stay with Mom?”
Miki shuddered. “Please, the last thing I need is Mom having any idea how bad I’m doing. She’d do some crazy intervention or something.”
“Then what?”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It wasn’t running, she promised herself. It was regrouping. Miki leaned back in her chair, not even tempted to peek at Perry and Pammy climbing all over each other in the corner. No. The next time she saw Perry, she’d have her powers under control, her life all mapped out. She’d remove his curse, make reparations, and be in such a great place, he’d realize what he’d thrown away.
But to do that, she had to get the hell out of Santa Monica and away from the emotional triggers. She needed a place to hide out, relearn to do magic, and harness her power. Somewhere she could relax, regain her confidence, and plan out what she wanted to do with her life.
Miki sucked in a deep breath, puffed out her cheeks, then exhaled. “I’m going to take a sabbatical. I’m going to Idaho.”
And while she was there, as much as it would screw her over karmically, she hoped Perry was arrested for public indecency. It would serve the oinker right.
There’s a New Witch in Town: Chapter Three
Gideon Ross inhaled the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee with a deep sigh of appreciation. Nothing like a small vat of java to start the day right. Only one way better. Gideon eyed the only other people in the diner, three old codgers arguing baseball and Marcia, the waitress. She was fifty-going-on-eighteen, did scary things to spandex, and was one of the few single women in Rossdale, Idaho, population two thousand twelve. Gideon took another sip of his coffee. He’d stick with the java.
He leaned back in the comfortable seat of his customary booth and squinted through the large plate-glass window at the picturesque main street of his hometown. Other than the lack of choice feminine companionship, Rossdale wasn’t that bad a place to live. Rural, but close enough to the ski areas to have plenty of tourist potential. Low crime rate, winning high school football season. Yeah, it should be a good town. It had been once. But the last seven years had taken their toll. Gideon stared out the window, barely noticing the cracked sidewalk or its barrelful of flowers wilting in the morning sun’s weak rays.
“Gideon, glad to find you here.”
“Hey, Fred.” Gideon gestured to the seat across from him. “Take a load off. Coffee?”
“Sure ’nuff.” Fred Ambrose heaved himself into the booth with a grunt and waved Marcia and her blessed coffee pot over. Graying and husky, Fred ran the General Store with his wife, Reba, as well as the auction house with his brother, Lenny.
Knowing Fred’s penchant for complaining, Gideon nodded at Marcia’s offer to refill his cup and ordered a piece of pie. Might as well get comfortable.
Two bites into his runny lemon meringue and Gideon began to space out as Fred ranted about the land next to his. Some fancy-ass Californian had bought the property a few years back, and it’d gone downhill fast. Since it was Fred’s favorite bitch, Gideon didn’t have to listen too closely. He’d heard it a million times before.
Gideon winked his thanks to Marcia as she refilled his cup. He carefully cut the last piece of lemon and meringue away from the blackened edge of the crust and wished old Joe would find a decent cook. Even a diehard pie man like himself was having trouble choking down the offerings lately.
“Now I’m fine letting things be,” Fred stated. “You know that, Gideon.”
Gideon figured it was an ode to his momma’s upbringing that he didn’t snort aloud at the claim.
“But Reba, she’s all up in arms and having fits. Something has to be done, I tell ya.”
“What’s Reba having trouble with?” This time went unspoken. It wasn’t like Fred needed reminding that his wife always had issue with something.
“That rental, the old Henderson place, it’s a mess. Been vacant for eight months now and it’s in even worse shape than before. Damned shame, since it’s sitting on prime land. Reba looks right out our bathroom window at that mess and just howls with the shame of it all.”
Having tiled their bathroom the summer before, Gideon knew Reba would’ve had to be standing on the toilet to peer out that window and do her howling. But he let it pass with a sympathetic grunt.
“Now Reba’s thinking there’s no reason she can’t just borrow a bit of that overgrown mess of land to plant a few flowers. Prime soil, you know. She had it tested and everything.”
“C’mon, Fred. You know better than that. Someone owns that property. You can’t just help yourself to the land so your wife can have her way with the flowerbeds. It isn’t right.”
“Gideon, I tell ya. Reba, she’s depressed as hell over the loss of our flower shop. You know how hard it was for her to close the doors. It was harder still losing her daddy’s land to the bank. All that prime soil, sitting fallow. It just about drives her crazy.”
Gideon grimaced. The bad economy had hit everyone. Between that, the crazies who lived out by the lake, and all the trouble they stirred up, it was getting to be hard for any business to survive in Rossdale. Reba Ambrose had prided herself in that flower shop. She’d grown her own posies, handling all the church functions, weddings, and funerals from here to McCade.
“Look, Fred, you have my sympathies.” They shared a knowing look, both aware of the sad state of things. Especially when it came to an unhappy woman. “But I can’t do anything. Talk to Reggie,” he said, referring to the mayor. “See if he’ll put you in touch with the homeowner or something. Maybe Reba can rent a patch of dirt.”
“Gideon, you know damned well Reggie is about as useless as tits on a boar.
”
Gideon pushed his plate away, satisfied he’d distracted Fred from his land-lust for the moment.
“Damn shame that man’s sitting in your daddy’s seat,” Fred continued. “That’s just wrong. Lucas Ross was the best mayor Rossdale ever had, and you’re his spittin’ image. People look to you for answers. I don’t see why you don’t just step up to the plate and take on the job like you’re supposed to.”
Gideon had obviously picked the wrong topic for distraction. He took another sip of his coffee and pursed his lips. It’d lost some of its flavor, although that could be due to the current conversation.
“Fred, tell ya what. I’ll bring my mower by, clean up the property so it’s not such an eyesore for Reba. Maybe if she’s not staring at it and fuming about the mess, she’ll quit jonesin’ to plant something pretty on it and go putter in her own dirt instead.”
Fred worked his jaw, jowls swaying to and fro as he mulled it over. Finally he nodded. But Gideon could see from the look in the old guy’s eyes he wouldn’t be giving up his nagging. Elections were coming and Fred—and most of the cronies of Gideon’s late father—were dead set on putting a Ross back in the mayor’s seat.
Too bad for them. ’Cause if there was one thing guaranteed to destroy whatever hopes the town still had for survival, it was Gideon’s butt in that seat.
“Morning, gentlemen.”
“Gene,” they greeted the newcomer who elbowed Fred over and settled into the booth. As lanky as Fred was wide but just as gray, Gene Crandall had retired the year before as editor of the The Rossdale Sentinel.
After sharing pleasantries and pouring a steady stream of sugar into the cup of coffee Marcia set in front of him, Gene turned his watery blue eyes on Gideon. Without preamble, he jumped right into his version of the town’s favorite anthem, who’s to blame for our woes.
“Now I realize Reggie feels we need the property taxes from those yahoos out by the lake, but I’ve just about had enough of their shenanigans,” Gene said with a ponderous frown. “The wild parties they throw are enough to drive an old man crazy. That drumming gets so loud, you can hear it a mile away. Last week, someone took spray paint to my tractor.”
Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers Page 62
