Summer Magic (The Thorne Witches Book 1)

by T. M. Cromer

  “He was dang—uh, yes,” Coop answered upon viewing Preston’s expression darken further.

  “You shot my daughter instead. Yes or no?”

  “Yes, and I… there are no words to express how sorry I am.”

  “So sorry that you threatened my family with arrest if they didn’t leave town? Yes or no?”

  Closing his eyes, Coop exhaled, “Yes.”

  “Today, you brought a dangerous warlock to my home. Yes or no?”

  “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m the sheriff, and he had a court order.” Coop swallowed hard and shored up his spine. “I tried to give Summer and Autumn as much time as I could so they could hide Morty before I brought the lab reps out here.”

  “The fact remains, you brought him here, and had I not returned, he might’ve hurt my family.”

  “I had no idea he was a warlock.”

  “No. You didn’t. And you have no idea what it takes to be a mate to a witch.” Preston swallowed his whisky in one fell swoop as if it were no more than water. “We’re done here. Don’t come back. You aren’t deserving of my daughter.”

  Coop surged to his feet. “She’s a grown woman and doesn’t need you to make her decisions for her, Mr. Thorne.”

  Preston cocked his head and lifted his hand.

  The wince was involuntary—a sort of post-traumatic stress—but Coop recovered his nerve and stood his ground.

  A flame flared to life in the older man’s palm. Round and round he swirled it, never taking his eyes from Coop.

  Was Summer’s father going to smite him on the spot?

  “You were saying?” Preston asked.

  He was? Oh, right. “I stand by what I said. Summer can make her own decisions.”

  Preston clapped his hands together and extinguished the flame.

  Coop couldn’t help but wince again. This man had him jumpy as fuck.

  “Son, your nerves won’t be able to handle the strain. Get out now while you still can.”

  Didn’t that sound ominous?

  The door opened behind him, and the back of his neck tingled. A sensation Coop associated with GiGi Thorne-Gillespie.

  “Preston, stop torturing the poor boy. He’s had enough.”

  “Who’s torturing him?” Preston poured a second whisky for himself and another for his sister. “I’m seeing what he’s made of.” The older man sent him a penetrating look. “I’m not impressed.”

  “As if you would be with any man courting your daughter.”

  Humor lit the amber eyes, and Coop could see Autumn in the man’s roguish expression. “Especially not men who go around shooting their future wife.”

  “Wife? I don’t—”

  An elbow caught him in the ribs—hard. “Don’t say something that’s going to get you dead, boy,” GiGi hissed. “My brother isn’t as forgiving as some.”

  Preston’s cold stare had Coop’s insides in knots.

  “Run along now,” GiGi added more kindly.

  Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Coop took her suggestion and ran with it.

  Outside the study door, he paused for a deep breath. A sound on the stairs caught his attention. Four female faces peeked through the banister at him, and the image of what these women must’ve been like as little girls flitted about his brain.

  His eyes sought out Summer. Yes, he remembered the little girl who’d lost her ice cream. He’d forgotten for a while, but she’d declared her love for him on the spot. Oddly enough, his heart had been claimed that day, too. He just hadn’t known it at the time.

  “How’s Morty?”

  “Safe.” She graced him with a soft smile. “Thanks for trying to protect us earlier. While you’re no match for Alastair, the effort was appreciated.”

  Coop glanced over his shoulder at the closed study door. “Yeah, I’m starting to believe I’m no match for anyone in this family.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Sheriff,” Autumn laughed. “Could be you’re a match for one.”

  Ignoring her sisters, Coop extended a hand to Summer. “Can we talk?”

  She rose, ignored his proffered hand, and walked past him out the front door.

  As they strolled through the animal barn, he struggled for the words to make things right. They wouldn’t come.

  “You told me once, you didn’t carry a grudge.”

  “I don’t.”

  “What is your insistence on moving, if not a grudge?”

  “It’s me getting on with my life, Coop. I thought I made that clear.”

  “I don’t want you to go,” he declared achingly. “I don’t know what I feel for you, Summer. I only know that a world without you in it is duller and holds less interest for me.”

  “You’ve discovered this in two months time? You’ve had the entirety of our lives to see me. Now I’m over you, and you decide you want me?”

  Anger laced her voice, and her blue eyes took on a darker hue.

  “Some people are slower than others. Ask any of my family—or yours—and they’ll tell you I’m an idiot.”

  Her lips quirked, and she dropped her eyes, but not before he saw the amusement there.

  “Don’t go. If nothing else, it’s not safe. Alastair proved that today. If he catches you alone and unaware…” Coop shuddered internally at the thought. “I can’t stand the thought of you not safe and happy somewhere in the world, Summer Thorne.”

  Sonofabitch, the man was smooth. With a few sentences, he crumbled her walls.

  Summer was hard pressed to not fling herself into his arms. She maintained her cool, but only by a thread.

  “What happens if I stay?”

  “We can see where this thing leads.”

  “This thing?”

  “Yeah, this…” His hand cupped her face as he lowered his head to brush his nose gently against hers. “… thing.”

  When his mouth captured hers, the kiss was like none they’d shared before. Fire and something remarkably like love burned between them this time. The tenderness he exhibited weakened her knees.

  As if sensing her imminent collapse, Coop’s strong arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her closer. The hand cupping her face shifted to her nape and held her steady while his tongue plundered the warm depths of her mouth.

  Her hands crept to cup his ass through his jeans. She told herself she had to hold on in order to not slump at his feet. But in reality, his curvy ass made her mouth water. Nothing was finer than a man who filled out his jeans.

  A moan filled the air around them, then another, and another.

  Needing to feel the smooth expanse of his skin, her fingers tugged his shirt free of his pants and burrowed underneath. She caressed the tight muscles along his lower spine and inched up, tracing the solid V of his back.

  He shifted to do a little exploring of his own. His long fingers traced the curve beneath her breast then lifted her bra to cup her more fully. As he toyed with her already sensitive nipple, it pebbled and elicited a deeper moan.

  His lips left hers, and the two of them dragged in much-needed oxygen. “God, I want you so much.”

  She wanted him too. And her thought was, why not? Why not experience what countless others had from him? Why not be able to look back with no regrets when the time came to leave?

  “Hold on tight,” she whispered, confident in her decision and ability to teleport them the short distance to the hayloft. They landed in a heap with a soft thud.

  His reaction wasn’t what she expected. Instead of being ecstatic about potentially getting laid, his response was more unfavorable.

  “Good Christ, Summer! What the fuck?” He crab crawled back from her.

  “I thought you wanted to—”

  “What? Fly through space in the blink of an eye? Great way to kill a hard on, babe.”

  Cold seeped through her veins. She’d done it again; shown trust and been rejected for her openness. The need to get away weighed heavy on her. She didn’t know exactly where to go, but it couldn’t
be anywhere he was.

  “Look, I—”

  She didn’t give him time to come up with another excuse to rebuff her. With a wave of her hands, she went the first place she visualized.

  The white, sandy beach softened Summer’s landing.

  She shot a quick glance around. No one saw her. Excellent. Now, if she could figure out where the hell she’d teleported to, she’d be doing well. Not that it mattered. She intended to hang out for a few days. Soon enough, she’d have to go back, but she could enjoy a small reprieve.

  In a little while, she’d send a message to her family and let them know she was all right. But for now, she needed this time to herself. A place where no one knew who she was or what she could do. A place where people didn’t judge her because her name was Thorne. A place without Coop, who humiliated her at every turn.

  Another study of the landscape to make sure she was alone, and then she waved her hands. A pale pink bikini took the place of her jeans and t-shirt. A snap of her fingers provided the rest of her beach essentials: sunglasses, blanket, towel, sunscreen, and an umbrella drink.

  She sat back and closed her eyes. Yep. She was going to enjoy her first vacation in two years.

  A dark shadow fell across her, and she held back her curse. Even the sun decided to toy with her.

  Opening her eyes, she gasped.

  “Hello, child.”

  18

  “Summer!” His voice rang out in the empty hayloft. Where the devil had she gone?

  He climbed down the ladder and checked every crook and crevice of the barn. “Summer, if you’re here, let’s discuss this,” he called.

  Nothing.

  Coop really didn’t want to return to the house. What could he say? “Uh, hey, did Summer pop back in here because I crushed her feelings again?”

  When he’d stalled as long as he could, he knocked on the enormous mahogany door.

  “Coop? I thought you were with Summer,” Spring acted surprised to see him.

  “We might’ve had an argument. One second we were… uh, talking, and the next she was gone. Can you check to see if maybe she… popped into her room?”

  “Sure, come in.”

  He waited while Spring jogged up the stairs and returned.

  “She’s not here.”

  “Not here, or not here to me?” he asked, voice grim.

  “No, I’d tell you if she didn’t want to see you. She’s honestly not here.” Worry coated her words and ignited Coop’s own nervousness.

  “Is there anywhere you can think she might’ve gone? A special place she likes to visit?”

  “She takes comfort in her animals. If she’s not in the barn…”

  “Morty?” he suggested.

  “We can check.”

  He appreciated that she included him in the search.

  They found Morty, a safari hat perched on his head, happily painting a jungle landscape. Backing from the room, they exchanged an anxious look.

  “Where could she be, Spring?”

  “I don’t know. But come on, we can scry.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “There are two ways to go about searching. One is to gaze into a bowl of liquid or mirror. The other is to take something of hers, a necklace or ring, and hold it over a map in hopes of discovering a location. It works like a water divining rod. It will go right to the spot.”

  “Why aren’t you working for the FBI and searching for fugitives?”

  She giggled as only Spring could. “Come on, let’s find my sister.”

  When they stepped through the door of an older, cramped section of the house, Spring waved a hand.

  The vision before him pulsed and changed from one of dusty old boxes to a large open room. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be found, and a large table at the center of the room was already lit with a dozen or more candles.

  “Holy shit.”

  “It takes getting used to, I’m sure.”

  “Am I the only human to have seen what goes on here?”

  Censure filled her green eyes. “We’re human too, Coop.”

  “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

  “Tell us exactly what you did mean, Sheriff,” Autumn snapped from behind him.

  “I meant non-magical human,” he stressed.

  The anger didn’t leave Autumn. “You should watch your words, Coop. According to Saul, you’ve upset our sister again.” She held up the chattering squirrel.

  Getting used to witches was one thing. Getting used to witches communicating with animals was another and harder to wrap his brain around.

  “She surprised me with her powers again. Y’all were born into this. For someone who has only known magic exists for maybe a month, it’s still disconcerting at times.”

  His words provided Autumn with something to think about. He could tell she’d not viewed it from his perspective before.

  “Perhaps if you’d have given Keaton more time to come to grips with it all…” he started to suggest.

  “I don’t talk about Keaton. Ever.”

  Her comment startled a short laugh from him. “Funny you should say that. He said the exact same thing about you. I think you two need to hash it out,” Coop suggested.

  “I think you need to get your own house in order,” she retorted and presented her back. “Sister, let’s scry for Summer.”

  “Can a mortal—”

  Both sisters snorted their laughter.

  “I’m really putting my foot in this, aren’t I? Should we go with the Harry Potter description of muggle?” he joked.

  “How about we call you dead if something has happened to my daughter?” Preston’s voice countered.

  Saul was handed off to Coop while the sisters prepared. During the entire time the women set up the altar to scry, the squirrel read him the riot act and scolded in furry rodent speak.

  “I get it, Saul. I fucked up,” he muttered. “Give it a rest.”

  The chattering became more emphatic.

  “Yeah, I’ll make it up to her. I swear.”

  The squirrel grunted his discontent but soon fell quiet as everyone leaned forward to see what the mirror held.

  At first glance, Summer appeared relaxed on the beach, daiquiri in hand.

  Coop was perturbed by her casual disregard for everyone’s worry.

  He’d almost turned away in anger, when he noted the shadow cast upon her body. “What’s that?”

  “More like who,” growled Preston. “Get me a location, now!”

  Autumn grabbed a map while Spring ran for Summer’s room to find a piece of jewelry to use.

  The rage simmering below Preston’s coolly controlled exterior terrified Coop. He could literally feel the pulsing heat coming off the other man. While he didn’t want to be here, Coop certainly didn’t want to be Alastair when Preston showed up to retrieve his daughter.

  “I’m surprised you’d leave the safety of the nest, Summer. It’s not like you’re the courageous one,” Alastair said as he stood over her reclining body.

  “Do you mind? You’re blocking out my sun.” If she appeared bored and unaffected, perhaps he’d leave off the cat and mouse game.

  His deep chuckle almost sounded affectionate. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really.”

  She sighed and sat up. “Then by all means, Uncle. Sit.”

  Before his bottom hit the sand, a chair appeared beneath him.

  Summer toyed with the idea of shifting it so he fell on his ass.

  “You’re smart not to give in to the urge,” he told her.

  “Was I that obvious?”

  Again, he chuckled. “You and the boyfriend have a fight?”

  “It’s creepy that you watch us. Does it get your rocks off?”

  Alastair tilted his head and studied her. “You did have a fight. It’s the only reason you’d run away.”

  “We aren’t in a relationship. You’re mistaken
if you think striking out at him will hurt me.” She shrugged and took a casual sip of her drink.

  “Never play poker, Summer Thorne. You don’t have the face for it.”

  Dammit.

  “What do you want, Uncle Alastair? I’d really like to get back to enjoying my vacation.”

  He leaned forward as if to impart a secret. The sun glistened off the sheen of his hair product. With the slicked-back blond hair and tan complexion, he reminded her of a movie actor of old 80s movies. Good-looking, but outdated.

  “What if I told you I could give you what you want most in the world?” he offered.

  “What if I told you to get bent?”

  Anger flared to life in his eyes and turned his dark-blue eyes the color of a stormy sky. “Don’t believe I can’t hurt you, child. I don’t want to, but I will.” He sat back and fidgeted with his perfect red tie.

  “Isn’t the suit hot for…?” She glanced around. She still had no idea where she was.

  “Mexico.”

  “Really? Huh. I would’ve thought I ended up in the Florida Keys,” she mused aloud.

  “Your training is sorely lacking, dear heart. Regardless, I can hand you a spell to bind the Carlyle boy to you for eternity. Would you like that?”

  “If your smile wasn’t smarmy, you might come across as genuine, Uncle. As it is… meh.”

  His brows clashed together, and his lips tightened to a thin white line. He took several deep breaths in what Summer assumed was an effort to control his temper.

  To hide her shaky hand, she set her drink in the sand and leaned back on her flattened palms. “Besides, everyone knows there’s no such thing as a love spell,” she scoffed.

  “Who said anything about love? I said binding spell.”

  He acted as if the offering was a special gift, but everyone knew magic done for your own personal gain came with a price.

  “If he doesn’t love me, I don’t want him.”

  A smile, similar to that creepy fucking Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, bloomed across his face.

  “Ah, dear Summer, thank you for confirming what I suspected.”

  Her stomach dropped into the sand. “And what is that?”

  “You’re in love with him.”

  She felt the blood leave her face, but she tried to bluff anyway. “That’s a big nope. I suppose with age comes poor deductive reasoning.”