Holiday Magic

by Tl Reeve

  “Okay, whoa. Time out. Let’s get on the same page here.”

  She squared off facing him, a determined look on her face. He was lost. What the hell had he done?

  “Okay, go on,” she said when he didn’t say anything.

  “You first. What’s chaffed your ass?”

  Her eyes narrowed and he sighed. Right. Maybe he should have phrased that nicer.

  “You really don’t need to be here,” she grumbled.

  “So you’re mad that I’m here.” That’s what he’d thought.

  Aubrey turned on her heel and headed into the kitchen. She was apparently done talking, but he wasn’t.

  “Blondie, come on.” He followed her into the kitchen and stopped when he caught sight of her alphabetizing her spices. Was she for real?

  “Stop calling me Blondie. I have a name. You can use it.”

  “I see.” He couldn’t stop smirking at what he was seeing. She was legitimately alphabetizing her spices, and making sure all the labels were facing out, just so.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Blondie, you’re neurotic, you know that right?”

  Her eyes narrowed, her hand strangling the paprika. Fuck, she was cute when she was mad. Really cute. He leaned against the counter, returning her stare. Feisty Blondie was far more attractive than scared, confused Blondie.

  “My name is Aubrey,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “I bet you get called sweetheart a lot, don’t you? You look like a sweetheart.” He teased. Her chest rose and fell slowly, as if she were trying to calm herself with deep breaths. She was probably counting backward or something too. He dug deep for a little more Ryan Davis assholery that seemed to charm the pants off unsuspecting women. “Maybe a babe, but never baby, am I right? You just don’t have that quality to you.”

  Her fingers tightened on the paprika jar until her knuckles were white. Shit this is easy.

  And then abruptly the anger vanished from her face and her eyes welled up. Jesus fuck. She dropped the paprika on the counter and lowered her head, trying to hide her face behind her hair.

  “Aubrey,” he said softly, reaching out and pulling her against him. He was a little surprised she didn’t fight him. Instead, she shook as she cried silently. He smoothed her hair and held on while she let it out, ignoring the heat that was magnifying between them. Literally. The buzz where their skin met was intense. Pleasurable, but very intense. “You’re okay. You’re going to be fine.”

  “You can’t know that,” she sputtered between sniffles.

  So apparently she didn’t have much confidence in his ability to do his job. Maybe he deserved that.

  “I’m not going to let them get you,” he promised into the top of her head. He pulled away when he heard her chuckle, raising an eyebrow at her amusement. It’s not that funny.

  “I’m not worried about those weirdos. I’m—” she stopped and sighed before stepping back to lean against the counter behind her. “I’m worried about those stupid tests. What if they don’t find anything and I have to undergo more exams? Or what if they do find something and it’s bad? Or they have to do more testing.”

  “So what I’m getting is you’re worried they’ll need to do more tests.” He winked at her and she grinned. He changed his mind. She might be sexy as hell when she was angry, but she was gorgeous when she smiled.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “They might.” Since she didn’t seem to appreciate lies or half-truths, he figured he might has well be honest. Her smile faded, replaced with apprehension that wrinkled her forehead.

  “What if they want to, like, study me?” The look on her face was dead serious and Nate tried his hardest not to laugh. He choked on the laughter and it came out like a hiccup.

  “Blondie, I won’t let them turn you into an experiment, or lock you away to study you. Okay? They’ll have to take me out before they can get to you.”

  “Even if it’s your own people and not the bad guys?”

  Fuck, she was seriously cute. And she had no idea what he did for living, or what Gaius Aeden was all about. If she did, she’d realize how ridiculous this all was. Instead of explaining it to her when she was clearly too tired and emotionally drained to hear it, Nate simply replied, “Yeah, even if it’s my own people.”

  “Really?” The look on her face pulled at his gut. It was like he’d just told her he loved her.

  “Protecting you is my job, Aubrey. So yes, really.”

  She nodded in response and then lowered her eyes to the ground, looking lost in thought. Finally she looked up and grinned. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  He decided to do a second sweep of the apartment and give her a few minutes to herself. As he headed to the living room, her voice stopped him. “Nate?”

  “Yeah, Blondie?”

  “If anyone ever hurts you again, I’ll heal you. If I can, I mean.”

  He froze, his breath caught.

  “I don’t know how it works, but I’ll try. Since you’re protecting me, I can protect you, right?” Her voice was soft but didn’t waver. She did, however, bite her lip nervously as he stared at her.

  He blinked a few times. Was she serious?

  “Nate?”

  “Okay, sure,” he said quickly before disappearing deeper into the apartment.

  Dalton had told him that Hobbs had been sent to Festival to make sure a healer who was coming to see the elder witches made it to her destination safely. Healers were rare. Extremely rare. And there were people who wanted one for themselves.

  Some people thought healers could stop the aging process, and therefore give eternal life. There were many myths about healers.

  Dalton had been ready to search the area around the barn for the healer once he learned Nate had picked up Aubrey. Hobbs and Davis were already on their way to pick up Aubrey’s car. Dalton would have them search the area while they were there.

  Maybe Nate wouldn’t have told Dalton about Aubrey’s health issues if Dalton hadn’t insisted upon finding this healer. But Nate knew he’d picked up the right person, and to make Dalton understand, he had to tell him that Aubrey had been the one going to see the Elders. And then he had to explain why. Which meant he’d had to tell Dalton about her ability to heal.

  That’s when the yelling had started. Dalton wanted an explanation, and Nate didn’t have one. Which would have been fine, had Nate not stupidly told Dalton that he had no idea how Aubrey had healed him because he’d been unconscious, and that when he’d come to, she was sleeping beside him. Why did I tell him that? Why hadn’t I been as vague as possible?

  Maybe because Dalton’s desperate look revealed just how much Aubrey meant to him. He wasn’t his usual composed self. And Nate had wanted Dalton to have as much information as possible so he would slide back into that collected man who led their office with quiet patience. The problem was, Nate had very little to give.

  And now Aubrey was offering to heal him in the future? There were only a few possible explanations for how she’d done it, and none of them sat well with him. A human capable of healing? That didn’t happen. Which meant she wasn’t human.

  Nate sat straight up on the sofa and stared at the apartment door. He heard it again, the faint clicking of someone picking the lock. Silently, he moved from the sofa so he was positioned behind the door when it opened. The light from the interior hallway of the apartment complex shone on the back of a tall heavy-set man and highlighted the gun at his hip. When the man turned to shut the door, Nate raised his gun.

  “Hands where I can see them.”

  The man attempted to fling the door in Nate’s face, but Nate kicked it back at him. In two hits, Nate had the man on the ground, his hands behind his back, Nate’s knee below them. Nate groaned. His cuffs were sitting on his jacket in the chair on the other side of the room.

  Nate looked down at the man pinned beneath him. The intruder’s face was turned away from the handcuffs. He didn’t see the cuff
s lift seemingly on their own accord and fling themselves across the room to Nate’s waiting hand. Nate cuffed the guy, read him his Miranda rights for what it was worth—really more out of habit than anything else—before he called Detective Finley to come get the asshole and take him in to headquarters.

  Aubrey was either sleeping through the whole thing, or smartly staying out of the way.

  It took Finley fifteen minutes to get there. During that time, the man sat stone-faced and silent.

  “You get Aubrey, I’ll take care of this guy,” Finley said. His fiancée, Madison, was with him, looking a little disheveled. Nate liked Madison. She was smart and clever, a rare combination for a person who was also genuine and friendly. She was a good addition to the team when she stepped in as a consultant.

  Nate nodded and headed down the hall to Aubrey’s room. The door was shut so he knocked before entering. Blondie was sprawled out in the middle of her bed. Her comforter was bunched around her feet, the top sheet covering one leg but not the other. Falling from one hand, a novel, the other hand was tucked up under her head. He was halfway to the bed when he caught sight of the thin black camisole she wore. He froze, his eyes trailing down to the two-inch gap of skin between camisole’s hem and the hem of her vibrant pink underwear.

  “Blondie,” he said gently. She didn’t move. “Aubrey.”

  “Hmm?” Her hand released the book and she rolled onto her other side, tucking her legs up while simultaneously shoving the blankets farther away.

  “I need to go into work, and I can’t leave you here alone.” Nate was now beside her bed. He hovered, trying to decide if she was hearing him or not.

  “You go on. I’ll stay here,” she mumbled.

  “Aubrey.” He sat on the edge of the bed and dragged his finger down her exposed arm. Sparks jumped from her flesh to his. The typically gentle buzz more intense and electric. She grinned and let out a low moan that nearly distracted him from the task at hand. Re-centering himself, he grabbed her arm firmly and said, “Aubrey.”

  Her eyes sprung open. “What?”

  “Someone broke in. Finley is here, and we have the guy, but we need to go to GA.” He relaxed his grip on her arm, ignoring the pulsing under his fingers. How was her skin so warm when she kept her bedroom so cold? The heat was barely on, and the temperature outside had easily dipped below freezing by now.

  “Someone broke in?” Her eyes grew wide. So she had slept through that noise. She sat up abruptly, and he dropped his hand from her arm. He nearly dropped it to her bare leg that was pressed against his denim-clad thigh, but he knew that was a terrible idea.

  “Get dressed.” He stood and looked around her room. “And pack a bag, quickly. We’re not coming back here tonight.” He wanted to install extra security measures before they spent another night in this place, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to do that before the sun came up.

  When she scurried out of bed, Nate saw the full length of her bare legs in the reflection from the mirror above her vanity. Pulling his gaze away, he headed for the door. He needed to get a new assignment. This wasn’t going to work. That damn buzzing made him feel like a teenager and the winter solstice was fucking with his head.

  5

  Aubrey had fallen asleep on the small sofa in her uncle’s office while Nate and Ian booked the intruder and filled out paperwork. She woke for the second time that night to her body surging, flushed, hot, and inappropriately aroused. Nate’s hand was on her shoulder, shaking her gently. Her body ached for him to touch her more. Her brain reminded her that would never happen. He worked for her uncle. And he was a witch.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, following him to the elevator. Ian and Madison had apparently already left. The building appeared to be empty. She checked the clock near the water cooler by the elevator doors. It was nearly four in the morning.

  “My place.”

  She nodded as if that sounded perfectly reasonable. It did not sound perfectly reasonable to her. Couldn’t they go to a hotel? And get separate rooms? Of course, maybe he had a guestroom? Maybe he’d sleep on the couch. She frowned at herself for that thought. She should sleep on the couch.

  “Whatever you’re brooding on over there, knock it off.”

  She smirked. “Brooding?”

  The drive to his place was incredibly short. Nate’s apartment was within walking distance of Gaius Aeden. She was surprised to find it was more than a typical bachelor’s place. Instead of a hodgepodge of furniture from college, he had a cohesive collection of warm wood pieces and leather. It looked like he’d actually bothered to think about what he was putting in his place, and like he’d had the money to do it. And she was in luck; he did have a designated guestroom.

  “There should be clean towels in the adjacent bathroom,” he said, leaving her bag on the bed before retreating to the doorway. “I’m just down the hall. The alarm will be set, so don’t open any of the windows or the front door.”

  “Thank you.” She sat on the bed, bouncing to test it out. Yep, it seemed comfy.

  He nodded and pointed down the hall. “I’m just down there, if you need anything.”

  “Night.”

  “Goodnight, Aubrey.”

  Aubrey’s phone buzzing in the pocket of her jeans on the floor near the bed woke her. She dangled her arm over the side of the mattress, searching for the annoying device. Her hand closed over it and she rolled onto her back before answering.

  “Hello?”

  “Bree, good morning.”

  “Walt?”

  Of course, it was her uncle. No one other than her uncle had ever called her Bree. The man had a nickname for everyone. And eating an entire round of brie on the winter solstice when she was six had solidified hers.

  “Did I wake you?” She could hear Walt shuffling on the other end of the line. “It’s nearly ten.”

  “Really?” She sat up in bed and looked around the room for a clock. There was a stack of books on the bedside table instead of a clock. Her lips twitched as she read the titles: Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Emma, The Novice’s Guide to Botanical Potions, Ender’s Game, and The Portrait of Dorian Grey.

  “I wanted to make sure you’re okay. I know you weren’t very pleased with me yesterday,” Walt said.

  She looked away from the curious collection of novels and down to the bedding wrapped around her. The faded purple had a gray quality to it, and it reminded her of when she’d tried for a more grown-up look to decorating her apartment in college. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Has Detective Evans secured your apartment?”

  “What?” She stifled a yawn and studied the room more. It was nice. In fact, it looked like someone lived in this room. She frowned at the hairbrush on the dresser. Definitely a woman’s. Rising from the bed, she checked the closet. It held a few dresses, a jacket or two, and a pair of women’s polka-dotted wellies.

  What the fuck?

  “Does Nate have a girlfriend?” She grimaced as soon as she asked the question.

  “Detective Evans?” Her uncle’s thinking was horrendously loud over the line. She shouldn’t have asked him that. Fuck. “No, I don’t believe so. Aubrey, are you okay?”

  “Yes, sorry. I’m just in his guestroom and it looks rather lived in. Like maybe—” she stopped. Why would his girlfriend live in the guestroom? That was absurd. “Never mind.”

  “You’re not at home?”

  “Huh?” She picked up a perfume bottle and smelled it. It was nice. Light, springy. “Oh, no. We’re at his place.”

  “That’s unusual.” Her uncle sounded annoyed.

  She gave in to her curiosity and opened the top drawer of the dresser, exposing an interesting assortment of very impractical underwear. She froze. Was his roommate a stripper? She held up a pair of underwear, eyeing the straps and wondering how exactly one was to get those on.

  She really should focus on the conversation with Walt and not dig through Nate’s roommate’s belongings. “I think he thought it
would be safer, after the break-in last night.”

  “Break-in?” Her uncle’s voice rose.

  Shit.

  “Uh, yeah, a guy—” The line went dead. Well, fuck.

  Aubrey ditched the underwear and raced for the door. She headed down the hall toward what she assumed was Nate’s room and then wondered what the hell she was doing. Warning him?

  “What’s up, Blondie?”

  She jumped and looked down the hall to see Nate standing in the living room staring back at her.

  “Walt apparently didn’t know about last night, or that we’re here, and he seems, uh, confused? Annoyed? I’m not sure. He hung up on me, which is completely unlike him.”

  “Jesus fuck,” Nate cursed, turned and left her staring down the hall alone. She hurried to the living room and found him studying his phone. He looked up at her, sighed, and then raised his phone to his ear. “Evans.”

  She winced, watching his face harden as he listened.

  “Yes, sir.” His gaze met hers and his face shifted to blankness. “There was no sense in another person coming in at three. We had it covered. Yes, sir. I understand. Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  That was so many sirs. Walt would have shit a brick if she’d have called him sir that many times. But Nate works for him, so maybe he expects that from him.

  Once Nate was off the phone, Aubrey waited for him to say something. Instead he just continued to stare at her. And then she remembered she wasn’t wearing any pants. And her tank-top probably left little to the imagination.

  “I’m going to go put something on,” she stammered.

  “That might be good,” he said flatly.

  “Right, okay.” Aubrey sprinted back to the guestroom, which she was sure was not actually a guestroom, and dug through her overnight bag for clothes.

  Dressed, she reemerged to find Nate lounging on the couch with his tablet. She sat in a nearby chair and waited for him to say something. His gaze shifted to her briefly but he continued doing whatever it was he was doing. She was pretty sure he was playing some sort of game.