“What?” He steps in and closes the door behind him. “What’s wrong? Are you choking?”
He appears prepared to Heimlich me.
I shake my head violently and point at my throat.
“You lost your voice?” He tilts his head. “Does your throat hurt?”
I shake my head again. Then I nod. I try to speak but get only silence. Oh. My. God.
I rush over to my iPad and pick it up. I open a notes app and quickly type in a message. I thrust it at Trace. I had a sore throat and I tried a spell to fix it and it worked but now I can’t talk HELP
I watch his eyes move over the screen, widen as he takes in the message, his lips parting. “You tried a spell on your own?”
I nod, my mouth turned down into a sad pout. I type again. Don’t be mad. I’m sorry! HELP
What if this is permanent? What if Trace can’t fix it? What if I can never talk again? My eyes fill with tears.
“Easy,” Trace murmurs. He rubs my upper arm gently up and down.
Okay, that’s distracting. But my bottom lip is still quivering. I give him pleading eyes.
“Come on. Show me what you did.”
I follow him to my couch with my iPad, show him the candles I used and the spell.
I think he senses my panic, because he’s very patient and gentle, nodding. “Okay, I got this.” He curls his hand around my throat. It’s an ultimate gesture of domination because he could so easily squeeze the life out of me, but it doesn’t scare me. I feel safe with him. His hand is gentle, his gaze holds mine, and I trust him. It’s actually incredibly… erotic. He closes his eyes briefly, then opens them. “There.”
I open my mouth. “Did you fix me? You fixed me! Oh, thank God!” I throw myself at him, curling my arms around his neck and burying my face against him. “Thank you, thank you.”
His hands come to my back and rub gently. “Romy, Romy. What were you doing?”
I don’t want to look at him. “I had a sore throat. I’ve been impatient to try spells, and I thought it would be something easy. I don’t know what I did wrong!” I keep my face pressed to his shoulder.
I feel the change in the air around us, his body tightening, heat emanating from him. My nose is right near his throat, and I pull air in, breathing his scent. My body shifts involuntarily closer to him, and my fingers brush over the back of his neck where his hair is clipped short and his skin is tender.
My inner muscles squeeze and throb. I feel the tension in his body, the way his breathing quickens, his hands tightening on me. God, I want him to kiss me. I want his hands everywhere on me. On my skin.
Slowly I move my head to tilt it back and look at him. His eyes burn into mine. We stare at each other. My tongue slips out to wet my bottom lip and his gaze drops there, his own lips parting. I’m seized with lust.
“Fuck.” He lowers his head, shaking it. Then he gently moves me away from him. “You’re making this so damn hard.”
My bottom lip quivers. “I-I’m sorry.”
He makes a frustrated noise. “Don’t. I didn’t mean that…”
“Then what did you mean?” I swallow.
He’s silent for a moment, his gaze moving over my face. “You know that Joe and Cassie took me in after my family died.”
“Yes.”
“I was a little asshole to them at first.”
I nod.
“I acted out because I was grieving and didn’t know how to handle my emotions. I was pissed at the world. I was—” He stops. “I was a jerk. But they were patient and firm and… if it weren’t for them, I’d probably belong to the Black Kats.”
“The what now?”
One corner of his mouth lifts. “It’s a gang. Not all witches are upstanding citizens. There are witches involved in criminal activity. They use fronts like normal businesses for cover and to make money, but they’re usually dealing drugs or… worse.”
I stare, wide-eyed. “I had no idea.”
“Anyway, my point is, Joe and Cassie gave me a lot. They’re trusting me to teach you, and I don’t want to betray that trust.”
“You are teaching me. I don’t understand how you and I being together would betray them.”
“You’re Joe’s daughter,” he reminds me, although it’s unnecessary. “He trusts me to look after you. Like Magan and Felise.”
“You’re not my brother. Not even half brother.”
“I know.” He closes his eyes, his face tightly drawn. “But you’re Joe’s daughter.”
Okay. I get it. He doesn’t want this, and I have to stop hoping. I nod. “I understand,” I say, trying for light and breezy, although my face is hot. “Totally. Thank you again for fixing my throat!” Shit. We still have the rest of the afternoon to get through. “Okay! What are we working on today?”
I was going to show him the app I created for crystal gemstones and their properties, making it much easier than memorizing everything. But right now I’m not sure he’d appreciate it.
14
Trace
I arrive at Joe and Cassie’s place for dinner on Sunday to find the three girls out on the patio, giggling over cocktails. I’m a tightly wound coil of nerves in anticipation of seeing Romy again. I feel like shit after what happened yesterday. She was so sweet and hot and looked at me like I was a god and she wanted me more than anything in the world. Not only was it ego-boosting, but it was also exactly how I felt about her. I wanted her. Resisting her took all my fortitude.
Then I had to endure a couple of awkward hours, pretending nothing had happened. All the while I just wanted to strip her clothes off and lick her everywhere.
Romy is sitting on one of the big chairs with her legs curled under her, her shoulders bare in a bright pink sundress. Her dark hair looks different—instead of smooth and sleek, it’s tousled and piecey with a just-been-fucked look. My dick responds instantly even though my gut tightens.
She looks up and our eyes meet, and an electric current zaps straight to my balls.
Shit. This is goddamn inconvenient.
She immediately flashes a tight smile.
“Hey, Trace,” Felise says.
“Ladies. What are you plotting?”
“World domination,” Magan says.
“That does not surprise me one bit.” I take a seat. Do they even realize that the power the three of them might have? Telling them might be dangerous.
I catch Romy’s eye again, but she quickly looks away. Great.
I remember the night we met—how easy things were. How it seemed meant to be that she showed up instead of Amy Whoever, how she wanted a distraction and fun, and somehow I stepped right up to give her that. Now I’ve fucked it all up.
A tight feeling grips my chest. Not only is she Joe and Cassie’s daughter, I’m no good at relationships. That would really create an awkward family dynamic. Right now the discomfort is just between her and me. Imagine if it was the whole family. I’d be banished. I’m not really one of them, and if I hurt Romy…
I can’t risk that.
The girls continue their chatter about the new design Romy is doing for the store, and I listen as I sip a beer. Romy’s laptop is sitting on the table, and she picks it up to show them some mockups she made. I lean over to get a glimpse. They’re fantastic.
She talks with confidence and competence. “Making it visually appealing is important,” she says. “But in the end, it’s how functional the website is that matters. You don’t want to lose customers because they can’t navigate your site.”
“Agreed,” Magan says.
“I love this one.” Felise points at the screen. “But I wish the font was a little more flowy.”
“We can do that.” Romy focuses on her computer for a moment, and with a few clicks makes the change. “How about that?”
“Oh! Yes. That’s perfect.”
“I love it too,” Magan says.
I can’t stop watching her. The sweet curve of her mouth, the shine of her hair, the way her eyes sparkle�
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Joe comes out of the house to join us. “What’s up?” he asks.
Guilt smacks me in the face so hard I nearly fall over backward in my chair.
The girls show him what Romy’s working on, and he studies the site. “That’s impressive, Romy.”
“Wait till it’s finished.” She grins at him. “It’ll blow you away.”
“Have you looked at the website for Dream Homes?” he asks her.
“No.” She raises her eyebrows. “Should I?”
“Take a peek. See what you think.”
I watch her blue eyes focus, moving over the screen. She purses her lips, clicking through the site. “It’s good,” she finally says.
“It’s not good.” Joe laughs. “Not compared to what you’ve shown us.”
A few years ago, I had to convince Joe that we even needed a website. We set up something cheap and quick so we have an online presence because these days you have to, but we have no trouble attracting customers, so it hasn’t been a priority to update it.
“Dinner’s ready!” Cassie calls from the door.
Romy shuts her computer and ignores me as we head inside to sit at the dining table. I follow behind her, irked at her indifference.
Why am I annoyed? This is what I wanted. This is why I stopped things yesterday before we went too far.
As usual, Cassie has conjured up a feast—balsamic brown sugar pork roast, mashed potatoes, and crisp roasted brussels sprouts. The conversation continues as platters and bowls are passed around, Romy happily chatting away… just not with me. My irritation grows. And I open my mouth. “How’s your throat, Romy?”
She shoots me a startled glance. “Uh, it’s fine.”
“What’s wrong with your throat?” Cassie asks immediately.
“Nothing,” Romy replies quickly.
I repress my smile. “No laryngitis?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “No,” she snaps.
Jesus, I’m like a little kid. Even her antagonism is better than disinterest.
“Did you have laryngitis?” Joe asks.
“Not really.” Romy drops her gaze to her plate. “I just had a little sore throat. It’s fine now. This pork looks delicious!”
“Good thing it’s not fish.” I try not to smirk.
Her glare could set my hair on fire.
“Don’t you like fish?” Felise asks Romy with a puzzled expression.
“I like fish,” she says tightly.
“Next time I’ll make salmon,” Cassie says cheerfully. “We all love salmon.”
“Better than goldfish,” I say. I’m trying not to laugh as Romy shoots pointy objects at me with her eyes.
Cassie gives me a look with her forehead furrowed. “Goldfish?”
“We had to evacuate our building today,” Romy says. “At work. The fire alarm went off. We didn’t know if it was a drill or if there was really a fire. It turns out someone on the seventh floor burned some toast.”
Well, that changed the subject.
In a way, I feel satisfied that I got her attention but also frustrated because I’m an idiot.
Conversation jumps around from the construction business to a customer at the Charming Chalice who came in with her emotional support snake, then on to local politics and some gossip about Ziggy Cox’s niece possibly having an affair with a state senator.
“Next weekend is Wendell’s wedding,” Felise comments, referring to her cousin. “What are you wearing, Romy?”
“Er… I don’t know.” She nibbles her lip. “I’m not sure if I should go.”
“What? Of course you should go!”
“You’re part of the family now,” Joe says.
She flashes him a weak smile. “I know.”
She’s met some of the extended family again after the night we told her she’s a witch, but considering how many people that is, it’s not a wonder she’s hesitant.
“You can come with us,” Felise says. “I’m bringing Cam as my date, but you can totally come with.”
Felise’s best friend besides her sister is Cam Wayland. They’ve been friends for years, and they both swear there’s nothing more between them than friendship.
“I don’t want to intrude,” Romy says haltingly.
Felise snorts. “No worries about that.”
I gather she’s hesitant about attending on her own. Which raises the question, why doesn’t she have a boyfriend? Why isn’t she dating? But if she was… I’d be annoyed.
“Are you bringing a date, Trace?” Cassie asks.
I shake my head. “Nah.” Inviting a casual acquaintance to a wedding gives women weird ideas.
“Then you can bring Romy!” Cassie says with a delighted smile. “Perfect.”
Oh fuck no. I look at Romy, my gut clenching.
She looks at the ceiling and sighs.
What the fuck? It’s bad enough that I have to see her every weekend for tutoring and then at least one other day for a family dinner. Now I’m supposed to survive spending a whole evening with her?
Cassie’s smile is hopeful and imploring. Once again, I can’t say no. “Sure.”
Romy’s jaw tightens.
So does mine.
Cassie lifts a hand, and a strawberry cheesecake appears on the table. “Who wants dessert?”
As Cassie cuts and plates the cheesecake, Romy says to me, “I guess we won’t be doing tutoring Saturday.” She looks pleased about this.
“Right. We’ll find another time.”
“Oh.”
Felise frowns at the piece of cheesecake passed to her. “I don’t like strawberry.” She points at it, and the strawberries turn to cherries.
Cassie sighs.
Felise picks up her fork. “Let’s go shopping and get you a new dress, Romy. Tomorrow night!”
“I’m sure I have something I can wear.” Romy accepts her own dessert.
“I’m sure we can find something better,” Felise says. “I mean, no offense, but your wardrobe is pretty conservative.”
“I don’t think a wedding is the time to break out her inner slut,” Magan says.
“Oh my god. I’ve told you I hate that word.” Felise rolls her eyes. “I’m not talking skintight sequins and cleavage. We can still be classy, just more… fun.”
“I’m coming too,” Magan says. “Just to make sure you pick something appropriate.”
“Of course you’re coming too,” Romy says.
She’s not offended by Felise’s interference, knowing her intentions are good. And she never lets Magan feel excluded even though she’s not as gregarious as Felise. She’s got these two down already. And that gives me a warm feeling in my chest.
Saturday and I’m back at Romy’s place, but this time it’s not to study. Today I’m wearing a suit and I’m picking her up to go to Wendell’s wedding.
She opens the door, and I have to hoist my jaw up off the floor. I blink a few times. “Hi.”
“Hi. Come in. I’m ready, I just need my purse and my phone.”
This is what I was afraid of.
Her dress is a bright orangey-red with spaghetti straps. It fits her curves all the way to just above her knees where a big ruffle swishes around her legs. When she turns away from me, it shows off her tight ass. I swallow.
I follow the ruffle down to her slender calves, then lower to her feet, wearing high-heeled sandals that are nothing more than two little beige straps.
She pauses at her kitchen counter and slips her phone into a small purse, then picks up a sweater and turns again to face me. This time I get the full frontal view. The ruffle at the bottom is shorter at the front, showing more of her legs. The V-shaped neckline isn’t particularly low, barely hinting at the curves of her tits, but it’s subtly sexy. And all that smooth skin… wow.
I clear my throat. “You look nice. Is that a new dress?”
“Yes.” She looks down and smooths a hand over one hip in a gesture that has my groin tightening. “This is what Felise and Magan helped
me pick out the other night. It’s really bright.”
“You look like a flame.”
Her eyelashes flutter. Now I notice how she’s emphasized them with mascara and how her eyes are shadowed and shaded, making them look huge. Her lips gleam with a coral shimmer. “Thank you?”
Why did I say that? “Yeah, I meant it as a compliment,” I reply gruffly.
She slips her arms into the cardigan. “Okay, let’s be off!”
The Uber is waiting for us. The driver gets onto Highway 41, and it’s a straight fifteen-minute drive to the Drake Hotel. The atmosphere in the car is stiff and uncomfortable. I ask Romy questions about her homework to distract myself from how fucking hot she looks. She studies hard and knows all the theory. She’s definitely smart. She’s just impatient and a little irreverent, like she still doesn’t take this all seriously.
At the hotel, I lead Romy into the lobby through brass revolving doors. It’s opulent and grand in here, with potted palms, heavy drapery, and crystal chandeliers dripping from the high ceiling. People mill about, and I spot Joe and Cassie talking to Chuck and Stella near the stairs. I direct Romy over to them, and we all greet each other.
“You look lovely, Romy!” Cassie says, holding her hands. “This dress is perfect!”
“Thank you.”
“We should go up to the ballroom,” Joe says. “The ceremony is supposed to start in about five minutes.”
We climb the carpeted steps and move into the room where the wedding is being held. Chairs set up in rows flank a white carpet running down the center aisle. The lighting is dim, with lots of candles, late afternoon sunshine filtering in through sheer curtains. We find seats near the front where some other Candler family members are already seated—Felise and Cam, Magan and Dallas, some of the cousins. Music drifts around us.
Felise twists on her chair, beams and claps her hands as Romy takes a seat behind her. “You look gorgeous!” She shifts her gaze to me. “You too, Trace. Nice suit.”
“Thanks.”
Soon Peta and Tony, Wendell’s parents, arrive. They’re seated at the front, then Dean’s parents across the aisle. Jay, Wendell’s brother, and Dean’s friend James walk down the aisle and take their positions at each side of the officiant, and the music changes to Teagan and Sara singing “I Was Married.”
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