by Amy Boyles
He droned on while I considered options. What about Rose? Could I tell her? What would she say? For as kooky as my great-aunt was, she could, on the rare occasion, dole out sage advice. Perhaps that’s what I needed to do.
I sniffed my armpit. I also needed a shower. I’d been running around in last night’s dress with no shower. Yeah. Back to the house for some cleaning up and then to find Rose and discuss options.
Best idea ever.
I arrived home to an empty magical house. I deposited Eugene in the living room and headed upstairs. The hot water felt amazing as it sluiced down my body, hitting all the nooks and crannies that needed freshening.
The house had a bathrobe and slippers waiting for me when I exited into the steaming bathroom. I’d finished toweling my hair when the doorbell rang.
I waited to see if anyone would answer, but apparently I was still the only person home. With the last bits of water dripping onto my shoulders, I padded downstairs and opened the front door—in my bathrobe.
Thorne stood on the other side, fully dressed, while I stood on my side, completely naked except for a silvery robe that I was pretty sure was made of silk.
This was not a thick terry-cloth robe that hid things. This robe was meant to accentuate, not hide certain physical traits, like when a cool wind blew right down the V at my chest.
Thorne’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw me, and at the same time I felt completely naked even though technically I wasn’t.
“Hey,” I said, averting my eyes in shame. I felt like Thorne’s gaze was scraping over every square inch of my body even if it wasn’t.
“Hey. I just wanted to make sure you got home safely.”
I lifted my gaze to meet his. “Oh? Peek didn’t tell you that he dropped me off?”
“He’s been busy.”
“No surprise there.”
He scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you could’ve picked a better deputy to take me home than that one.”
“Peek? He’s great.”
I shot a quiverful of arrows from my eyes. “He’s not great. At least not to me. Maybe to someone else—another vampire, for instance. But to me he’s horrible. Really terrible. Like an evil wart on your skin that won’t go away.”
“I’ll remember that,” he said flatly.
I nodded. “It would probably be best that you do.”
Thorne nodded.
We stared at each other. Water from my wet hair dripped onto my shoulders. “Do you want to come in?”
“No, I shouldn’t. I have a full day.”
“Yet you’re here.” I studied him, trying to figure out the emotions that crossed his face.
“Look, I caught you at a bad time.”
He turned to leave, and I don’t know what made me do it. I don’t know what took possession of my body, but I reached out for him and grabbed his arm.
“Wait…”
Thorne’s gaze met mine, and a shock wave fissured all the way to my knees, making them quake. My body trembled. The look of intensity on his face made my heart rate jack way, way up.
Then, as if we needed no more excuses, as if the pressure that was building up inside both of us finally hit its apex, Thorne moved to me and I reached for him.
The next thing I knew his fingers slid through my wet hair while I coiled my arms around his neck. Thorne bent down. I tipped my body up, and our lips finally met.
My nerve endings exploded as if a fireworks display had launched itself in my body. The kiss was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I’d kissed boys. I’d even kissed men.
But I’d never kissed a vampire.
His mouth was warm, and it moved over mine sensually, tugging at my bottom lip. I immediately lost myself in the moment.
A moan caught in my throat. My entire body throbbed as the kiss deepened. This was the good night kiss I’d wanted. Not some friendly peck on the lips but a real kiss fueled by passion and full of desire.
Y’all, this kiss was so full of desire I thought I might burst.
My fingers threaded through his long locks, and boy, were they soft. Thorne must condition his hair pretty often. But there was no time to notice that.
His hands slid up and down my waist, coming dangerously close to my breasts, but Thorne was a gentleman. He wasn’t someone who would touch things he wasn’t allowed to touch.
I let him drink from me and I tasted him and it was absolute heaven, worth waiting for. My body sang. Every cell leaped for joy that we were finally experiencing the kiss I’d waited weeks for.
I don’t know how late it was when we came up for air. All I know is that one moment we were intensely locked together and the next, we were slowly breaking apart.
It was the saddest moment of my life.
Then Thorne’s beautiful face loomed over me. He took my hand from his shoulder and kissed the inside of my palm.
He smiled. Really smiled. Not a smirk and not one of those lip-coiling things he did when he was amused. No, this smile was sincere.
Butterflies tornadoed in my stomach.
“So,” I said.
“So,” he replied. “I see you made it safely home.”
I laughed. My gaze darted to the floor. “Yep.”
Wow. Now that we’d kissed, I had no idea what to say. My tongue was all knotted and stuff. Maybe we never should have kissed. Maybe it killed my edge when it came to our conversations.
“I, uh, have some work to do. People to talk to. Is your mother around?”
My eyes narrowed. “That’s really why you’re here, isn’t it? To talk to her.”
His jaw clenched. “No. I came by to see about you. Like I said. The idea of talking to your mother just occurred to me.”
“We kiss and you think about my mother?”
“You’re twisting my words.”
I pulled my hand from his. “I’m not twisting anything. That’s literally what just happened. We kissed—a heck of one, too, I would like to add. Then you start asking about Mama. Literally. I’m not making that up.”
“I just thought I’d see—”
“Maybe you should just see about her later.”
I glared at him. Thorne studied me. “Do you want to keep fighting or would you rather kiss some more?”
My breath hitched. “Well, um.”
Was that a trick question? Was he trying to catch me off guard?
Before I had a chance to think of an appropriate response, Thorne cupped my face and our lips met again. This time it was less passionate, more tender. I felt my heart open and myself soften to him.
All the pent-up frustration that had balled itself up inside me released, and I sighed into the kiss, letting myself go.
After a minute or so—I mean, who could count when it came to hunky vampire kisses—Thorne gently released me.
“I’ll call you later,” he said firmly. “Glad you’re okay.”
Then before either of us could launch an argument assault-style at each other, Thorne disappeared from the doorway, using his vampire speed to get the heck out of Dodge—or my house, as it were.
I stood stunned for a moment, staring outside. A moment later Mama appeared in the doorway.
“Charming, what on earth are you doing standing half-naked for the whole town to see?”
“Kissing a vampire?”
She eyed me. “Oh, well. In that case, I approve.” Mama angled her head to peer right and left of the house. “Where’d he go?”
I waved my hand lightly, feeling a bit woozy from all the kissing. “He disappeared. He may have turned into a bat.”
Mama flicked her wrist. “Preposterous. Every witch worth her salt knows vampires can’t turn into bats. Now shoo, get inside and get dressed.”
My thoughts suddenly shifted from the kiss to Mama and the dead bouquet. “Have you seen Rose?”
“I haven’t.”
“Here I am!” Rose strode down the hall behind us toting Pig with her. My great-
aunt grinned widely. “Just got in from the store. Do you need something, Charming?”
“Oh, no. I was just wondering if you were around.”
“Well, okay. I’ll be in the kitchen preparing supper. We’re having leg of lamb. It’ll take all day to cook.”
I rubbed my lips together. “Sounds good. What are you going to be doing?” I directed to Mama.
She shrugged. “I just spoke to the local water witches about joining their little afternoon soiree at the waterfall. I might do that.”
I nodded. “You should. You definitely should.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to get rid of me?”
I feigned innocence. “Me? I would never do that.”
“You’re up to something.”
“I am not.”
Mama stared at me for another second before announcing she was going to her room to get ready for the waterfall. “I have to find the perfect outfit. Something that can get wet but is practical.”
“Sounds like you need a swimsuit.”
Mama scoffed. “As if, daughter. I don’t wear spandex on this skin. How horrible. I’ll find something.”
As soon as she disappeared, I scampered into the kitchen. “Rose,” I whispered in a desperate tone.
“What is it?” she said as loudly as a deaf person at a rock concert.
I gestured for her to keep her voice down. “I discovered something today.”
“What’s that?”
I leaned in and placed my lips to her ear. “Mama placed a pile of dead roses on Frankie’s doorstep.”
Rose blanched. “Why would she do that?”
I shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me that. If she placed the roses with a nasty note, do you think she could have…”
“What?”
“You know.” I dragged my finger across my neck. “That.”
Confusion filled Rose’s face. “What?”
I rolled my eyes. How much more obvious could I be? “You know.”
“No. What?”
Frustrated, I blurted out, “Killed Frankie. Do you think she killed Frankie?”
“Why on earth would I have killed Frankie?”
Mama’s voice from behind me made every muscle in my body ball up into a hard knot. I groaned. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“Well, the two of y’all apparently learned how to whisper in a hailstorm.”
I slowly pivoted to see Mama in the doorway wearing a fitted jumpsuit. It was pink, of course. She folded her arms and scowled.
“What is all this nonsense?”
I pointed my finger at her nose. “You left Frankie a pile of dead roses, that’s what.”
She sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I rolled my eyes. “You did it, Mama. Just admit it. You left the bouquet for Frankie.”
She stared at me a good long moment, her aqua eyes full of suspicion before saying, “And what if I did?”
I raked my fingers down my face. “Well, for one thing, it ties you to her. It could possibly tie you to Frankie’s murder.”
Mama smacked her lips. “And what if I did? What if it was me that killed Frankie Firewalker?”
My eyes widened. I glanced at Rose.
She set the raw leg of lamb into a roasting pan. “Oh dear. If you did that, then we have a big problem.”
You could say that again.
Chapter 20
Mama grabbed a towel and smacked my shoulder. “Of course I didn’t kill Frankie. I did send her the roses, but I didn’t kill her. She was a horrible person.
“Besides,” A burning heart dripping red stuff that looked like blood popped into existence. “Frankie sent me this first.”
“Ew.” The thing was revolting. “That’s horrible.”
A self-satisfied smirk settled on Mama’s face. “That’s what I thought. So I sent her the flowers in retaliation.”
“With those disgusting cockroaches?”
My mother shuddered. “What cockroaches? I didn’t do anything with cockroaches.” She pressed a finger to her chin in thought. “But that would have been a great idea. Too bad I didn’t consider it.”
“Wait. You didn’t add the cockroaches?”
“No,” she said flatly. “And I’m surprised you would even suggest I touch such a foul creature.”
That was strange. “Were there any cockroaches around when you placed the bouquet at her door?”
“How would I know? I sent them by magic.”
“So you didn’t set them there in person. That’s weird, but it doesn’t change anything.”
Rose placed the leg of lamb in the warm oven. “It doesn’t change what?”
“Well unfortunately, half the town thinks Mama was Frankie’s worst enemy.”
Mama scoffed. “Trust me. She had worse enemies than me.”
I folded my arms and leaned against the wall. “If Thorne discovers you sent those flowers, he’s going to haul you in for questioning. In fact, he’s going to do it anyway.”
Fear sparked in her eyes. “How long have you known this?”
Eugene chose that exact moment to float into the room. “Oh, she’s known for at least a day or two. Maybe more.”
“Only one day,” I snapped. “And I didn’t tell you because I asked Thorne to give it more time. I thought maybe if I could find the killer, we could spare you the humiliation of being dragged down to the station and questioned.”
“Hmm. If you’d told me earlier, perhaps I could have helped you find whoever did this terrible thing.”
“With all due respect, everyone’s pointing the finger at you, so I’m not sure what to say.”
Mama clapped her hands. “It’s time for a group discussion. If we’re to figure out who did this and keep me off the suspect list, I need to know what you know. Now,” she added sternly.
I raked my fingers through my hair. “I know Tex was only doing the show for the exposure, Vic Little used to love Frankie until she broke his heart and Watts Pugh is devastated that she’s dead.”
“Real or fake devastation?” Mama asked.
I tipped my head from side to side. “Hard to say. Could be real. Could be fake. Either way it was definitely over-the-top.”
She poked the air with authority. “We’ll start there.” Mama’s eyes glittered with excitement. “Anyone who’s horribly upset that Frankie is dead is immediately suspicious in my book. Were you able to get into his house?”
“No.” I rolled my eyes. “We can’t go around breaking into people’s houses when they’re not there.”
She grimaced. “You’re right.” Mama drummed her fingers on the counter. “But perhaps we don’t have to. Maybe we can just sort of invite ourselves into his home while he’s there and take a look around.”
Rose clapped her hands. “Oh, I love that idea. How’re we going to manage that?”
I folded my arms and shot her a stern look. “Yeah. On what pretense will we be able to just slip on in and take a tour?”
“Let me think about that one,” Mama said. “It may not be as easy to do as I originally hoped.”
A ridiculous idea flared in my mind. “What if—and this is a big what if—we pretended to be raising money for a foundation for Frankie, or a monument or something, and we were going around seeing who could donate.”
Rose inhaled. “And then when Watts starts to open his checkbook, we say we’re looking for objects to donate—like valuables in his home, and we tour the home while we’re talking to him.”
“What if Pig gets loose while we’re in there?” I added.
“And Broom starts sweeping,” Mama said.
“What if I turn on my flames?” Eugene chimed.
“No,” the three of us said in unison.
“We don’t want the place to burn to the ground,” I explained. “We only want to get a good look, see if there’s anything funny about it.”
“Like what?” Eugene asked.
&nb
sp; I hiked a shoulder. “I don’t know. Like he has an aquarium full of cockroaches or maybe a book on how to electrocute someone with magic while they’re in a hot tub.”
“Wouldn’t that be perfect?” Mama said. “But I’m sure it’s too much to wish for.”
“You never know.” Rose pulled out a cutting board and started chopping vegetables. “One time I ran across a book titled How to Use Squirrels to Send You Back in Time.”
“So it was a book about time traveling?” I asked.
“Oh no,” Rose said. “It was more about how to cook squirrels than anything to do with time.”
I frowned. “Then why the title?”
She chopped a large carrot in two. “I think the author just named it that so people would buy the book. I don’t really know, but it had a few great recipes.”
And so that’s how life with Rose went. I was about to comment on how the entire scenario was ridiculous when the doorbell rang.
“Who could that be?” I said.
Mama sat on a chair and snapped a newspaper into existence. “I’m sure I don’t know. Find out for us, won’t you, Charming?”
“Sure,” I said snidely. I mean, was I her servant or something? “Let me get rid of whoever’s at the door and then we can go over our plan about Watts.”
“Sounds perfect,” she said.
I exited the kitchen to the front door. I opened it, being sure to cover myself a bit better than I had earlier.
Thorne stood there. Again. I quickly shut the door behind me and stepped onto the porch to give us privacy.
“What are you doing here?”
He cocked a brow. “Better question is, why aren’t you dressed yet?”
I glanced down at my robe. “I’ve been busy. You back for another kiss?” I joked, not-joked.
He shook his head. “Is your mother home?”
“Yes, but—”
“I need to speak to her.”
The sharpness in his voice caught me off guard. “Thorne, you promised you wouldn’t do anything.”
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Things have changed. I need to speak to her.”
“Okay.” I opened the door and led him into the kitchen. “Here she is.”
