by K. F. Breene
“Oh my God, I’ll be fine.” I hastened to the door. “I’m good, Mr. Tom. We don’t need to be so much in each other’s lives.”
“As your protector, miss, I must—”
I shut the door. Edging into middle-aged dating was uncomfortable enough; I didn’t need help from my ancient, wacky butler. I had to draw the line somewhere.
As I started walking, nervousness coiled within me. Wow, it had been a long time since I’d gone on a first date. A long, long time. I had no idea what to expect. The guy I was meeting was a few years older than me, with a couple of teenagers and a steady job as a winemaker, and lived one town over. We had similar interests, and though he was apparently big into crime shows, he also enjoyed comedy. If we went to a movie or something, we’d probably be able to find some common ground.
That was about the extent of what I knew, though. I supposed I could’ve exchanged a bunch more emails with him before taking the plunge, but I didn’t much like getting to know someone via electronic communication. Inflection was missing, as was tone. I had a large propensity for sarcasm—I couldn’t have someone mistaking that for genuine concern, because then where would we be?
The windows of Austin’s bar shone up ahead, the honeyed glow spilling out onto the sidewalk and highlighting a couple of Harleys parked out in front. A flicker of light caught my attention to the right. A man leaned against a thin tree trunk in front of the closed candy shop, his head bowed over his phone, the light not reaching his face. He glanced up as I passed, his face concealed in the shadow of a flat-billed baseball cap.
A familiar warning sensation crawled down my scalp and over my skin—something I felt whenever I encountered a male stranger lurking in the shadows. I pulled my gaze away, lest he took that as a challenge or as interest, watching instead for movement out of the corner of my eye. I held my breath as I increased the distance between us, speeding up just enough that I’d get out of there faster, but not enough that he saw I was scared and decided he liked chasing prey. I might not technically be prey to people anymore, but old habits died hard.
In a moment, though, he dropped his head back to his phone, uninterested. I let out a relieved breath. He was probably waiting for something, bored, and had decided to check out the chick in the dress as she walked by.
My relief was short-lived.
Up ahead, hanging out outside the bar, sucking on a cigarette and checking out the Harleys, stood my nemesis. He kept trying to annoy and antagonize me in subtle little ways, something he did despite knowing Austin would punch him off his barstool (literally) if he talked trash to me. It had happened on my very first night in town, plus another handful of times in the two or so months since. The guy’s name was Ryan, but he didn’t deserve the respect of being called his real name, so I’d dubbed him Sasquatch for his shaggy hair and bushy beard, which probably held crumbs and fleas alike. He was clearly as dumb as rocks, and if his vendetta weren’t so tragically annoying, it would be hilarious.
He grunted as I neared, the amber of his cigarette glowing across his bushy unibrow. “What are you doing here? You don’t come in on Thursdays,” he said.
“Funny, I’d hoped the same thing about you.”
“I come in every day.”
“Maybe if you had a friend, you wouldn’t have to.”
“Well, maybe if you had a friend…” His brow furrowed and a constipated look crossed his face. “You’d… You wouldn’t…”
I smirked. “Need a little more time for that comeback? Should I check in later and see if you were able to think of anything?”
He flicked his cigarette at me, sparks shedding as it sailed through the air.
“Oh my God, what the hell?” Pain flared on my palm as I slapped it away, a flurry of sparks following its progress. “You’ve got problems, dude. That hurt.”
“You’re magical now, apparently. You’ll heal.”
“Just wait until I know more of my magic. Hopefully you won’t heal.”
He chuckled. “Fat chance, terrorist.”
I could do nothing more than stare at him for a moment, shaking my head. What did you even say to that? It had exactly no grounding in reality.
Giving up on our not-so-snappy repartee, I continued on toward the door. At least I wasn’t scared of him anymore. Thanks, Ivy House. And thank you, Mr. Tom, who had been teaching me close combat with a knife named Cheryl. It was the same knife I currently had tucked away in my clutch, a light, sleek, spring-loaded blade that required very little pressure to bring springing forth from its lovely teal casing.
Before I could get through the door, Sasquatch stepped in front of me, halting my progress.
“Really?” I asked dryly, half inclined to take Cheryl out for a spin right now.
“Ladies first, which is why you’re going last,” he said.
“Great, yeah, real snappy put-down, jackass.”
“How do ya like me now?”
I gritted my teeth, wondering what I could do. Magically shove him out of the way? Shank him? Wet willie? All were terrible, but I didn’t want to start a fight this close to Austin’s bar. It was rude, for one, and two, I wasn’t one hundred percent positive I would win. I mean…I thought I could, but a lifetime of being weaker than my possible attackers made me hesitate. I had a lot of past conditioning to work through before I was ready to start a bar fight. Besides, Austin quelled violence in his bar, regardless of who started it.
Sasquatch took slow, heavy steps, intentionally holding me up, swinging his weight too far from one foot to the next. He’d be easy to knock askew, and then, when he was getting his balance back, probably flailing his arms, it’d be easy to stick something sharp into one of his soft places.
Wow. I’d really retained Mr. Tom’s teaching. Clearly I had a violent streak somewhere inside of me, no doubt bulldozed in my twenties so I could better fit in with the mothers and wives and women around me.
Did social conditioning bulldoze away their interesting bits too? I wondered as I followed Sasquatch into the bar, careful to breathe through just my mouth. There was a funk wafting off him that I didn’t want invading my world. Maybe we’d all had a fire inside of us, clawing to get out, and we’d kept it at bay to fit into someone else’s mold of what we should be as women.
I chewed my lip, thinking. Digressing. I kinda wished I could go back in time and strike up some very different conversations with a few of them.
Maybe we could have encouraged each other to approach life differently, to let out some of that fire. Because it felt pretty damn good, and I couldn’t wait until I no longer had to rely on Austin and the others to protect me. Someday I would be the only protection I needed.
“Goals,” I muttered, drawing the notice of a younger guy sitting at a small table off to the side. I shrugged. “I only talk to myself when I need an intelligent conversation,” I told him, continuing on.
“Nut job,” Sasquatch said.
“You should talk,” I replied, barely stopping myself from giving him a dig in the ribs.
Sasquatch peeled off to the side, finally getting out of my way. I caught sight of Austin behind the bar, his large shoulders straining the confines of his gray cotton shirt. The fabric stretched down over his robust chest, pulling tight between his pecs and loosening a little over his flat stomach. His cobalt gaze noticed Sasquatch before darting to me—and then back to Sasquatch. His easy posture and relaxed air changed in an instant, and suddenly every muscle in his very impressive body was flexed. He straightened up slowly, and cold shivers zipped down my frame, screaming of danger. Telling me to leave Cheryl where she was, forget my magic—it wouldn’t be enough—and race the hell out of there.
Chatter and laughter died down until Austin’s presence extinguished it completely. His face—high cheekbones, straight nose, planes and angles that ended in lush lips—morphed from something handsome into something that might be the last thing his enemy saw on Earth. That enemy, at the moment, was Sasquatch.
Sasquatch fr
oze. He tensed for a beat, clearly feeling a challenge, and just as clearly thinking about answering it.
I could feel the whole bar holding its breath. I’d seen Austin in action in wide-open spaces. He was strength and power and incredible brutality that, if set loose in this confined space, would ruin the bar.
I started edging backward.
4
Sasquatch let out a breath…and about-faced. Picking on me wasn’t worth facing Austin. He muttered an apology as he made his way out the door. Austin couldn’t possibly know what Sasquatch had done, but it was clear he’d identified that something had happened, and it was Sasquatch’s fault. Suddenly I was glad I hadn’t attempted to retaliate.
His silent decree carried out, Austin’s demeanor melted back into that of easygoing bar owner, steering his ship and slinging his alcohol.
“You don’t need to do that,” I said as I approached an open space at the very end of the bar. He met me there, his gaze roaming my face before slipping down over my body.
“You look beautiful, Jess.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at him, suddenly flustered that the hottest man I’d ever known had complimented me. “Turns out the only nice things in my closet are, like, ten years old. Fits, though, so that’s a win. Thanks, Ivy House.”
“Big win. You’re going to knock ’em dead.” He winked at me.
Face heating and trying not to show how nice that was to hear, I checked the time on my phone. I was only a tiny bit early. I had a feeling my date might already be in the bar.
The Sasquatch incident had temporarily derailed my anxiety, but it returned stronger than before. I stopped myself from looking down the bar, afraid of what I would find.
“You don’t need to scare Sasquatch—I mean Ryan—out of here,” I said.
“Yes, I do. He was going out of his way to be rude to a lady. He knows better than to do that in my bar.”
“Well, if you let him keep it up, maybe he’ll get stabbed one of these days…”
A smile wrestled with Austin’s lips. “This is true. Can’t allow it in the bar, but maybe if you hung around in a less-populated area, like in the shadows along his route to the bar, you could surprise him and I wouldn’t be the wiser.”
“Meaning…you wouldn’t feel pressured to keep the alpha’s law and order in this town?”
The grin dripped off his face. “I’m not the alpha of this town.”
“Yes, yes, I know, but you know what I mean. If you didn’t know about my randomly attacking a member of this town, you wouldn’t feel obligated to punish me…”
Confusion and unease stole over his expression. “I don’t think I could hurt you if I tried.”
“Oh.” I twisted my lips to the side, guilt lodging in my gut. “Because of the Ivy House magic?”
His eyes were deep and troubled. He didn’t comment.
“Honestly, Austin, I’m trying to find a way out for you. I really am. We all know you were trying to protect me and not the house. Ivy House knows that, too. She—or it, I guess, but I think of it as a she now—can communicate with me after a fashion. She knows she pulled a fast one. She’s being a real stubborn butthead about the whole thing, but I’m positive that I can break your attachment to the house once I learn more of my craft. I know I can. You won’t be trapped by the magic forever, Austin, and then you can thump on me like you thump on everyone else, don’t worry. I’ll be super scared of you, just like every other normal Dick you meet.” I grinned to show my jest.
He shook his head, a tiny movement that I barely noticed. It was the snap of his magic that had me clicking my teeth shut without meaning to, feeling the command of his power, his presence. I couldn’t remember him doing that to me before.
He grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to use my magic just then. I haven’t quite mastered controlling my magic around you when it compels me to assert…” He let the thought drift away.
“Your dominance?” I narrowed my eyes. “Not cool, man. I don’t want to be ruled any more than you do. One day I might accidentally react negatively to that silent command, and you won’t be pleased with the result. Or will you disown me when I have more power than you?”
“You already have more power than me. I can feel it brimming within you, which is why my magic tries to react. It’s muscle memory.”
“I mean, when I know how to use more power than you.”
“My ego isn’t fragile, Jacinta. I don’t give a damn how much power you have.” He paused for a moment, staring at me. I swallowed, not ready for his sudden intensity. “I know that you might accidentally react with magic, which is why I’m trying to train myself. I don’t want to set you off when you’re not sure what you’re doing. I felt that…summons earlier. That’s what Niamh called it, anyway. Not the one from Ivy House, which I also felt, but the one from you. I would’ve texted to see if you were okay, but it didn’t feel like it was meant for me…”
“Yeah, that was more unconscious magic. I was gearing up to fall to my death, apparently with the possibility of being run through by Niamh’s horn and then smooshing Edgar, when I felt that happen. I thought the house had done it. Mr. Tom is annoyed with me for calling in help, did Niamh tell you? His list of grievances is growing. He’s also upset that I’m dating Dicks. The guy is not super pleased about my life choices at the moment, I’ll say that much.”
Austin grinned, and then his humor drained away. “Listen, Jess, I will continue to ignore Ivy House. I did not agree to work for it, so I won’t come at its beck and call. If you need help, though—if you call me—I will be there, okay? All you have to do is ask.”
“I know,” I murmured, warm inside. “I didn’t bother you because I didn’t think you’d be much help with the whole flying thing. Though…you’d certainly be better at catching me than Edgar.”
Austin’s brow quirked. “I thought you were jumping from up high?”
“Yeah. Third floor. Edgar thought he’d be able to save the day if my wings didn’t show.”
“But…” He paused with a semi-open mouth and a confused expression. Whatever question he had, though, dissolved, and he shook his head. I agreed—no words.
“Anyway,” he said, “I’ll try to walk on eggshells until you’ve got your bag of tricks under control.”
“And after?”
“After you have complete control?” A smug grin pulled at his lips and his blue eyes glittered. “I won’t pull any punches. We’ll see who comes out on top.”
Excitement sparked deep within me, coursing through my blood. That was a challenge if ever I’d heard one. He didn’t want to be ruled, I didn’t want to be ruled, but trying to rule each other?
“You’re on,” I said with a grin to match his. “Say goodbye to your king-of-the-mountain status. It’s time for a queen around these parts.”
He huffed out a laugh. “We’ll see. Anyway, we can talk about how I’ll dominate you later…”
A flash of unfettered heat stole my breath. I looked away, not ready for it.
Most of the time, I liked being in the friend zone with Austin. He had his hang-ups, and I had mine. He wanted to live a solitary life, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself with the hot local bar owner that I would see all the time. Both of us needed a good friend—a close friend that we could be open with—and we’d each found that person in each other.
Sometimes, though, his hotness blasted through all my defenses and seared me alive. He would be a wild ride. A wild, scorching-hot, sweaty-sheeted, delicious-bodied ride…
“You okay?” he asked.
I fanned my face. “Yep. Just nervous about my date. Is he here, do you know?”
His glance down the bar said it all. He pushed away, grinning, and moved to help someone.
“Crap,” I muttered, checking my watch again. Now five minutes late. Time to officially show up.
I tapped the bar with my nails and thought about pulling a runner. Mr. Tom was right. Me and this guy would never work—I was now magical and he
was not. Our worlds were different, and that would never change.
I had to start somewhere, though. He was level one in my dating life. If I chickened out this time, I’d have to start at the same level—I couldn’t jump to level two.
Leaving wouldn’t accomplish anything. But that didn’t mean I had to go in totally blind.
“Austin,” I whisper-shouted across two middle-aged guys with their hands wrapped around their brown bottles. They halted their stilted conversation and leaned back uncomfortably. I leaned with them so as not to be seen by anyone at the other end of the bar. “Austin!”
Austin took a twenty from someone down the way and glanced at me. I gestured him closer.
His saunter looked loose and confident, like he had a line on a horse that was going to make him a millionaire. That, or he knew of a joke that he couldn’t wait to see play out.
I was the joke. I hoped to hell my date wasn’t the punch line.
“What’s he like?” I asked as he came closer, still mostly whispering.
Austin leaned against the bar with one hand, his muscles popping out through his plain shirt. “He’s exactly what you’d expect from online dating.”
