“Wait, wait, wait.” Finnie had been leaning back on two legs of his chair, but suddenly plopped forward. “You never called him a hot nerd before.”
Finnie was the kind of guy who was always smiling, even when he talked. He had what some might call “careless charm.” From what JJ had told me, it was working for him waiting tables. He was racking up those tips. As a nursing student at UNO, he needed the money, so good for him.
“He’s right.” Evie finally took her seat next to Mateo, quirking her brow in mock-confusion. “I think I heard you call him butt-munch and fuck-nugget, but never hot herd.”
“Don’t forget cockwaffle,” JJ added.
“Oh, yeah. My favorite,” giggled Evie.
“Hold up,” I interjected. “I have no idea what’s going on. You’re gonna have to tell the story again. Who is a cockwaffle exactly and how has he earned this title?”
Also, I applauded Livvy for her creative profanity. We sometimes played a drinking game to see who could come up with the most unique swear words.
But I also noticed that when her emotions were running high about something or someone, she tended to come up with all manner of names.
Livvy rolled her big blue eyes. “First off, I have eyes, Finnie. He’s using that grim reaper swagger to his benefit. I can see that. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s also a—” She raised both hands, spluttering to find the right word.
“Thundercunt?” I suggested.
“Yes!” She clapped her hands together, laughing and winking down the table at me. “Nice one.”
“Well, now I need all the details. Please start over.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath and started from the beginning. “There’s this marketing contest, and it’s sponsored and hosted by Garrison Media Corporation.”
“Should I know them?” I asked.
Finnie, Evie, JJ, and Sam all said in unison, “The biggest PR company in Louisiana.”
Livvy ignored them, giving Finnie the side-eye before going on.
“Anyway, there were some preliminary rounds, which I made it through. But on the semi-final round, we were grouped with two other contestants and given a panel interview. In my group, there was this guy Willard Thompson from Metairie and this grim, Gareth Blackwater.”
She practically spit his name out and hissed it with such venom there was no question who the cockwaffle was.
“You guys actually saw him at The Brat Pack the other night. He was the guy who walked up to us.”
She glanced from me to Clara. I vaguely remembered someone talking to us before we left, but to be honest, I had been severely fixated on Nico at the time.
Devraj perked up, turning away from Isadora and tuning into the conversation. “Gareth? What’s he doing now?”
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one distracted, but this was nothing new for Dev and Isadora. I swear, if we weren’t all here, they’d probably be going to town on top of the table. Not that I was jealous or anything.
“You know him?” Livvy glared at Dev.
He chuckled. “Uh, yeah. He’s done a few jobs for Ruben. As a matter of fact, he’s the one who created the vampire tracing app. Helped us out when those girls went missing.”
Livvy crossed her arms and seethed over this new news. “He’s created his own app?”
“He’s created a couple. His most popular of course is iBite, the vampire app to find blood hosts.”
I swear, I thought there was steam rising out of Livvy’s ears. “Are you kidding me right now? He doesn’t even need the prize money!”
“Forget about that,” said Evie. “Tell us what happened next.
Livvy inhaled a deep breath, getting a hold of her temper. “So, the interview seemed to be going well. Everyone was being respectful of each other, answering the questions. But then after I responded to the guy heading up the contest, I hear this not-so-subtle snort of derision on my left. The douchey grim.”
“Not all grims are bad,” Clara added with a bit of disapproval.
“I didn’t say they were, Clara darling, but this one—” She ringed her hands in front of her, strangling the invisible grim, Gareth, apparently.
“It seems every grim you guys know is a Blackwater,” said Devraj, his fingers combing through Isadora’s hair trailing down her back.
“You want anything?” Charlie asked me in a low voice, starting to get up, nodding toward the bar.
JJ was suddenly out of his chair, a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, gently pushing him back into his seat. “I’ll get it. What do you want?”
Charlie settled back into his chair, that tell-tale blush sweeping his cheeks again.
Well, now, what was this?
“Another Merlot. You, Violet?”
“The same.”
I didn’t miss the way JJ sensuously stroked his thumb across the nape of Charlie’s neck as he walked away. And I couldn’t help but grin like a fiend at Charlie who avoided my gaze, still managing a “shut up” under his breath.
Oh, ho! Charlie boy had some explaining to do. He was definitely the one JJ went on a date with the other night.
“Are you listening, Violet?” Livvy had that you-better-fucking-focus expression on.
“Listening. But I still don’t know what got your panties in such a bunch.”
“Okay, so he makes that aggravating and rather condescending noise in his throat, only so that I can hear, every single time I answer a question for Mr. Davis. So afterwards, when we’re dismissed and told it’ll be another couple of weeks before they choose the finalists, I stopped him outside the building and asked him what his problem was. Do you know what this ass said to me?”
I shook my head since she was obviously creating a dramatic pause for a big finale.
She leaned forward, narrowed her eyes, and lowered her voice as if mimicking the guy. “He gets up in my face and says, ‘I’m onto you, witch. You better not use your magic, or I’ll report you to the Guild.’ Ha! Threatens me like I’m some kind of supernatural criminal.”
I smirked because, although Livvy was vivacious and passionate, she rarely lost her temper. “So what did you tell him?”
Finnie was already snickering behind his hand. He must’ve known what was coming.
Livvy lifted both brows haughtily. “I said, ‘First of all, I don’t need to use my magic to beat you, grim. I’m going to win on my talent alone. And second, you’d be reporting me to my own sister, dimwit, and I think I know whose side she’d take.’ Then I left him there gaping like an idiot.” She smiled victoriously and lifted her drink to take a sip.
We all laughed with her, but I was still a little confused. Sure, he might’ve been out of line a little, but that didn’t seem to warrant this level of rage on her part.
Then again, Livvy liked dramatics, so maybe that’s all it was.
Jules walked in with a giant serving bowl of crawfish fettucine and set it on the buffet table so we could all serve ourselves. “Dinner’s ready.”
As we stood, I called out to Livvy, “So what happens if you’re both finalists in this contest up against each other?”
“Then I guess I’ll have to beat the knobhead and put him in his place for good.”
Jules turned from the buffet, hands on both hips. “What contest? And who’s a knobhead?”
We all groaned, nearly in unison, while Finnie and Evie laughed. Livvy heaved out a sigh. “Nope, nope, nope. I’m not telling it a third time. Later, Jules. Let’s eat your fabulous food.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Mateo, rubbing a hand over his flat abdomen, nudging Evie in front of him.
She wrinkled her nose a little bit. Fettucine had never been her favorite. The rest fell quickly in line.
After we’d all served our plates and pulled up to the table, the conversation flowed freely as usual: multiple conversations overlapping, and voices rising higher and higher to be heard over everyone else.
Our family meals were a kind of organized chaos, but that’s th
e way we liked it. Normally, these gatherings fueled me with joy and energy to face another long week as a new business owner.
But tonight, I couldn’t help but glance at the empty chair where Nico usually sat, diagonally across from me next to Evie. A sharp pang pierced my gut.
Sometimes, he’d even bring his guitar and play a few songs that others could sing along to. We didn’t even mind when Clara belted out a solo, sounding like a dying cat as always. It was family and friends and fun.
I wasn’t sure if I was the only one who lamented the noticeable absence. But I was the person who was the likely reason he was avoiding dinner with us.
He probably just needed another day to rest, though. He’d come home a day early and looked worn out from going all wolf and stuff. That’s what I told myself anyway.
After I cleared my plate, taking Evie’s and Mateo’s plates with me, I set the dishes in the giant kitchen sink then pulled out my phone. It wouldn’t hurt just to check in, make sure things were all cool between us.
Me: Hungry? I can bring you a plate of crawfish fettuccine.
I stared and waited a minute or two. Just when I thought he must be asleep or something, he answered.
Nico: No thanks.
I frowned. Somehow I could see him scowling on the other side of the phone.
Me: Okay, then. I’ll bring it to the shop for your lunch tomorrow. Jules insisted.
Lie.
No response. A sickening feeling swirled in my stomach. When no response came again, and it was obvious he wasn’t in a friendly mood, I slipped my phone into my back pocket.
I walked toward the kitchen door then stopped, listening to the chatter and laughter on the other side. It just didn’t sit right with me. Usually, our businessy/flirty texts ping-ponged back and forth for twenty or thirty minutes.
Huffing out a frustrated breath, I texted back quickly.
Me: We need to meet first thing in the morning with Livvy to hammer out the details of the grand opening celebration. 8:00 a.m.
I sent it, murmuring, “There.” When he didn’t respond a-fucking-gain, I furiously typed an addendum. Deleted it. Typed it again, then sent it.
Me: I expect you to be there. On time.
He was never late for our meetings, so I don’t know why I felt it necessary to add that.
Actually, I did. I was pissed, and some part of me wanted to poke the bear. Or the wolf, in this case, to get some sort of reaction out of him. What did I get?
Nico: Can’t. Won’t be into the shop tomorrow. Make it Tuesday.
“What’s wrong?” Clara stood in the open doorway, a stack of dirty dishes in her hands.
“Nothing,” I snapped, turning and heading toward the back exit, not wanting to try to lie my way out of this one. Clara knew something was wrong just by looking at me. “Tell Jules I headed home. Got some work to do.”
Before anyone else could stop me, I pushed into the cold night air, turning my face up toward the moon. It was still mostly full, just starting to wane on one side.
After inhaling another deep, cleansing breath, I marched through the back courtyard and then down the alley between the Cauldron and Mystic Maybelle’s toward our house.
I sent a text, telling him that was fine, though it didn’t feel fine.
Where the hell did he have to go tomorrow? Why wasn’t he coming into work? I wanted to know, but not enough to ask him. Then I shot a text to Livvy, telling her we had a meeting Tuesday morning since I’d made all that shit up just to get some sort of reaction out of the damn man. I had to make it legit now.
Rather than texting me back, she telepathed a quick message, I’ll be there. As an Influencer, Livvy had the ability to telepath. But it was a one-way connection unless she was chatting with another Influencer with the same gift. Like Cole, our cousin.
That taken care of, I walked quickly home. The nausea in my stomach was swelling to new heights. There was only one thing to do.
After the meeting Tuesday morning, I’d pull him aside and tell him. Or maybe take him out to lunch. That would be better. But I wasn’t sure if I could wait another whole day to get this off my chest, especially when my psychic magic tingled every single time I thought of him, warning me to make it right since I’d fucked it up.
But I’d respect him if he needed time to cool off after our last encounter. I wasn’t an Aura like Clara, but he’d been pissed at me. I wanted him calm and open-minded when I explained things, because he’d likely be angry all over again.
I waited for the nausea to disappear now that I knew my definite course of action. After two Tums, a shower, and three gulps of Pepto Bismol, it hadn’t gone away. So I took a sleeping pill to knock myself out.
I needed a good rest tonight, so I’d be ready to open up my stubborn heart and prepare for possible rejection Tuesday morning.
Chapter 17
~VIOLET~
* * *
“Good. That settles the food issue. I’ll contact them today,” said Livvy.
She’d had the fantastic idea of acquiring two food trucks for the grand opening. With a small after-hours fee, they’d set up on our dead-end street and work late for us.
“All we have left to discuss is the music. I had some ideas.” Livvy was tapping her notes into her tablet.
I’d been avoiding Nico’s gaze most of the meeting in our small office. He wasn’t behaving angry at all. If anything, he was being exceptionally cordial, but it still felt off.
My heart had been jackhammering sporadically all morning, every time I thought of what I was going to tell him after the meeting. Though he gave me a few puzzled looks, he hadn’t been rude or anything like I thought he might after our last interaction.
Forcing my focus back on Livvy, I said, “We’re not going to have an eighties tribute band. I don’t want The Cure and Depeche Mode on loop for this crowd.”
Livvy arched a brow at me. “Are you hating on my music?”
“Not at all. I just think our clientele is more eclectic.”
“So do I, which is why I hired Southern Sun. They play a mixture of old and new classics with more of a rock vibe.”
“I know them.” Nico had one ankle crossed over the knee of his other leg, his body leaning away from me in the chair at my left. “They’re a good band.”
Those were the most words he’d said all morning. I gave up on being nonchalant and turned my head to take him in.
He looked way better than he did two days ago. He’d shaved, and the bags under his eyes were gone. And while he looked cool and aloof, there was an edge to his demeanor. Nico was often broody, but usually with an easy smile. For me, anyway. Now he barely looked at me.
And if that didn’t chafe my ass, the fact that he was being painfully professional did. No banter. No flirting. Nothing but pure professionalism coming from him. Not a single, solitary note of friendliness anywhere. This was going to be harder than I’d thought.
“Fine,” I agreed. “That’s good for me then.”
“Who’ll be manning the merch table?” Livvy asked while typing on her phone.
“Sean will do it,” I said, realizing I hadn’t even asked him to work the grand opening yet.
“Lindsey mentioned she’d help out however we need,” added Nico. “I’ll see if she’ll relieve Sean when he needs a break.”
That rubbed me wrong. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll ask her when she gets in later today.”
Nico stood. “She’s already here. Working on some sketches for the display portfolios we’re putting in the lobby.”
“I didn’t even talk to her about that yet,” I said to him.
“Don’t worry about it.” Then he finally looked down at me, hands propped loosely on his hips, expression blank. “I did.” Then he turned his attention back to Livvy. “Are we done?”
It was way early for Lindsey to be here. We didn’t even open till noon. And the fact he knew she was here had turned my breakfast into a nest of snakes in my stomach.
A
nd when had he talked to her about the portfolios?
“Yeah. I think we’ve got it,” said Livvy, popping out of the chair she was in. “You guys have a good day.”
Nico and I walked toward the office door at the same time, but he backed away before our shoulders could touch, gesturing for me to go first. I glared at how he took a full step away from me to allow me to move ahead of him.
I didn’t have the freaking plague.
Once we were back in the lobby, I meandered to the front counter to leave Sean a note about manning the merch table at the party. Nico didn’t even glance at me, marching straight to the end of the hall where Lindsey’s partitioned workspace was.
Dammit. I didn’t even have a second to ask for a private conversation.
I heard her soft hello then Nico’s deep voice as they spoke, the conversation indecipherable. Then she laughed. So did he.
What the hell?
Two days ago, he was pretty damn clear about wanting to be with me. Had he moved on already? Wait, Lindsey had off yesterday. Did they go on a date? Was that where he’d been?
Suddenly, my neck was sweating, and my breakfast bagel was trying to come back up. I twisted my hair up and used the holder on my wrist to tie it in a messy bun.
The light laughter and murmurings continued down the hall for the next ten minutes. Twelve actually, because I was staring at my damn phone to be pretending to do something whenever he decided to come back to the front.
But he hadn’t come back up yet. He was still flirting and laughing with Lindsey.
The front door opened, and Sean sauntered in, giving me that head-nod greeting guys liked to do. “What’s up?”
I was sitting on his stool behind the counter. “Nothing,” I snapped. “Why are you here so early?”
His brows popped up at my catty tone, but he kept on grinning as was his typical facial expression.
“Nico said he wanted me to enter inventory receipts into the system before we opened today. Something wrong?”
As he rounded behind the counter and I maneuvered out of his space, I caught a sudden wave of his dark aura. Usually, I pushed away his grim magic automatically, almost desensitized to his brand of wickedness. But today I was off my game. I had a one-track mind, solely on Nico and whatever the hell was going on with him. And her.
Witches Get Stitches Page 17
