Read Online What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery by Jennifer Harlow - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Harlow
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Dixie Chicks can’t drown out his screams. That poor man. Werewolves definitely have the short end of the preternatural stick.
About five minutes later, the noise ceases. Taking a pair of sweats with me, I walk back, picking up the nearest crystal to break the seal. Adam lays on the ground in the fetal position, slick from sweat and the sticky ectoplasm that aides the change. Naked. He’s naked. Hell’s bells.
I haven’t seen a naked man in fifteen years, though Dennis didn’t look near as good. He was stringy where Adam is muscular. Sculpted even. I can’t help it, my eyes dart to his butt. Even has dimples. Damn. I turn purple again. “Adam?” I ask as I quickly turn my back to him. I hold out the clothes behind me. “Brought you clothes!” I can hear him stand and shuffle toward me. He takes the clothes, and I start power walking away. “Meet you at the car!”
After a minute or so enduring visions of dimples dancing through my head, he meanders out of the barn like a sleepwalker and gets in the car. The moment he rests his head against the window, he falls asleep. He’ll be out most of the day, I know that much about werewolves. Birth twice in one day takes it out of even the strongest person. Not so ferocious now. I’ve heard stories of wild wolves unable to control their temper and ripping men apart. They aren’t nearly as bad as I’d imagined. Besides that initial scare, he was rather pleasant. He probably would have let me pet him.
Back to the house we go. Auntie Sara is at the bake sale today, and everyone else could care less, so I help him walk to the front door. When we get inside, I stay by the door. “Bathroom is the first door on the right upstairs.” I hand him the Walmart bags. “Here. I got you some extra clothes. I hope they fit. You’ll be staying in the guest bedroom where you were last night. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. If there are any problems, all my numbers are by the phone in the kitchen.”
“I’m staying?” he asks.
“We’ll get into all of that later, okay? I’m already real late. You get some sleep.”
I’m about to shut the door, when he says, “Mona?” I step back in and turn around. “I’m sorry if I scared you back there.”
“You didn’t. Actually, you looked kind of cute with your tongue hanging out.”
“Oh,” he says with a tiny chuckle.
“Just sleep, okay? I’ll be back to check on you later.” I shut the door.
Time to rally the troops.
Lunch with Tamara and Clay
Goodnight Diner is, without debate, the heart of the town. There isn’t a citizen who doesn’t patronize it at least once a week to sample their down-home breakfast or best barbeque in the county. The lunch rush has dwindled by the time I arrive, so there are actually tables available. As I walk in, Tamara spins around from the kitchen with two trays full of food. Her hay-colored hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and smudged eyeliner rims her large brown eyes. She’s stick thin and muscular from all the whizzing around with heavy trays. We met the first day of high school in English class. Her family had just moved from Charlotte and she didn’t know a soul. I wasn’t exactly popular, but I had a good circle of friends. The rest have moved out of town, but we keep in touch. Only Tamara and Clay remain.
Clayton McGregor is another second cousin, though from my nonmagical grandfather’s side. He waits in the back booth fiddling with his cell phone. That man loves his online poker. He’s my brother from another mother. His mother and mine became fast friends when they were each pregnant with their respective firstborns. Clay and I played in the same bassinet, on the same playground, and then went through school with most of the same classes. I’m sure if we weren’t related we would have married by now. He’s moderately attractive with brown hair, small hazel eyes, receding chin, and always a bowtie. He even asked me to marry him once, but I’ve never had
About five minutes later, the noise ceases. Taking a pair of sweats with me, I walk back, picking up the nearest crystal to break the seal. Adam lays on the ground in the fetal position, slick from sweat and the sticky ectoplasm that aides the change. Naked. He’s naked. Hell’s bells.
I haven’t seen a naked man in fifteen years, though Dennis didn’t look near as good. He was stringy where Adam is muscular. Sculpted even. I can’t help it, my eyes dart to his butt. Even has dimples. Damn. I turn purple again. “Adam?” I ask as I quickly turn my back to him. I hold out the clothes behind me. “Brought you clothes!” I can hear him stand and shuffle toward me. He takes the clothes, and I start power walking away. “Meet you at the car!”
After a minute or so enduring visions of dimples dancing through my head, he meanders out of the barn like a sleepwalker and gets in the car. The moment he rests his head against the window, he falls asleep. He’ll be out most of the day, I know that much about werewolves. Birth twice in one day takes it out of even the strongest person. Not so ferocious now. I’ve heard stories of wild wolves unable to control their temper and ripping men apart. They aren’t nearly as bad as I’d imagined. Besides that initial scare, he was rather pleasant. He probably would have let me pet him.
Back to the house we go. Auntie Sara is at the bake sale today, and everyone else could care less, so I help him walk to the front door. When we get inside, I stay by the door. “Bathroom is the first door on the right upstairs.” I hand him the Walmart bags. “Here. I got you some extra clothes. I hope they fit. You’ll be staying in the guest bedroom where you were last night. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. If there are any problems, all my numbers are by the phone in the kitchen.”
“I’m staying?” he asks.
“We’ll get into all of that later, okay? I’m already real late. You get some sleep.”
I’m about to shut the door, when he says, “Mona?” I step back in and turn around. “I’m sorry if I scared you back there.”
“You didn’t. Actually, you looked kind of cute with your tongue hanging out.”
“Oh,” he says with a tiny chuckle.
“Just sleep, okay? I’ll be back to check on you later.” I shut the door.
Time to rally the troops.
Lunch with Tamara and Clay
Goodnight Diner is, without debate, the heart of the town. There isn’t a citizen who doesn’t patronize it at least once a week to sample their down-home breakfast or best barbeque in the county. The lunch rush has dwindled by the time I arrive, so there are actually tables available. As I walk in, Tamara spins around from the kitchen with two trays full of food. Her hay-colored hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and smudged eyeliner rims her large brown eyes. She’s stick thin and muscular from all the whizzing around with heavy trays. We met the first day of high school in English class. Her family had just moved from Charlotte and she didn’t know a soul. I wasn’t exactly popular, but I had a good circle of friends. The rest have moved out of town, but we keep in touch. Only Tamara and Clay remain.
Clayton McGregor is another second cousin, though from my nonmagical grandfather’s side. He waits in the back booth fiddling with his cell phone. That man loves his online poker. He’s my brother from another mother. His mother and mine became fast friends when they were each pregnant with their respective firstborns. Clay and I played in the same bassinet, on the same playground, and then went through school with most of the same classes. I’m sure if we weren’t related we would have married by now. He’s moderately attractive with brown hair, small hazel eyes, receding chin, and always a bowtie. He even asked me to marry him once, but I’ve never had
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