Misadventures of a Tongue-Tied Witch: Boxed Set Humorous Witch Series Read online

  Yeah, right.

  “ – debentures! You know what I mean?”

  “Uh, yeah. You’re r-right.”

  I had no idea what a debenture was and didn’t want to know.

  What I wanted was for it to be seven o’clock…which it was.

  The doorbell rang.

  I started toward it, but Taylor got in front of me and held up a hand like a traffic cop signaling for a car to stop.

  “I’ll get it,” she said. “You need to make an entrance, especially looking like that.”

  “Okay.” I hung back in the kitchen while she went to answer the door. My nerves stretched and jumped and twanged while I waited. I heard Taylor’s voice, then Donovan’s. They sounded pleasant and friendly, even though I couldn’t make out the words. Then Taylor called, “Aren, Donovan’s here!”

  I felt almost like I was in high school again as I went out into the living room. Donovan smiled when he saw me, but he hesitated before he said anything. Maybe he was running through lists of complimentary reactions. But in the end he just said simply, “Aren, you’re beautiful.”

  “That’s what I told her,” Taylor said. “You kids go on and have fun now. Oh, I feel just like a mom.”

  As we left the apartment, I said, “So, you m-met Taylor.”

  “Yes, I did,” Donovan said. “She’s very nice.”

  “I’ve always thought so.”

  “You’ve known her since college?”

  “That’s right. My other r-roommate is Beth. She’s an intern.”

  “A lawyer and a doctor. You’ve just about got it covered friend-wise. Now you need to make friends with a good plumber and an electrician and, if I do say so myself, a wise investment counselor.”

  “I’ll remember that if I ever have anything to invest, w-wisely or otherwise.”

  His Jeep was more comfortable than it looked. When we got to the restaurant, it stood out among the expensive luxury sedans in the parking lot, and I was reminded of how my battered subcompact had looked in the parking lot of Angela Vandermeer’s condominium complex.

  “Does it bother you, having all these f-fancy cars around your Jeep?” I asked him.

  “Nah. They can’t go some of the places where this baby’s been, so the way I see it, their owners are the ones who ought to be jealous.”

  That seemed like a healthy attitude to me. I was glad to go into the restaurant on his arm.

  Dinner was wonderful. The food was delicious, the wine that Donovan ordered was perfect, and the company couldn’t have been better. I wound up talking more than I had in what seemed like ages, mostly about myself, and after a while I didn’t even notice my stammer. Donovan didn’t seem to, either. I told him about my parents and about growing up with an over-achieving older brother, and that prompted me to ask, “Do you have any br-brothers or sisters?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Only child. The apple of my mother’s eye.”

  I remembered he hadn’t sounded very happy about having dinner with his mother the night before, so I thought it might be a good idea not to probe too deeply about that relationship. Instead I asked, “What about your dad?”

  “He’s been gone for a long time, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know if he meant his father was dead, or simply out of the picture. I knew that in this day and age, Mark and I were sort of oddities, being brought up as we were by two parents, neither of whom had ever been married to anybody else.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Donovan said. “Tell me more about your dad’s business.”

  “I think he, uh, already has a financial p-planner.”

  “Really, Aren, I’m not the money manager equivalent of an ambulance chaser. I’m not trying to scout up new clients.”

  I could tell that he really was a little annoyed with me. Scared that I had ruined things, I reached across the table, put my hand on his, and said, “I’m sorry. I w-won’t mention that again.”

  His smile flashed back and looked genuine to me. “Ah, don’t worry about it,” he said. “But I really do want to hear more about your folks.”

  It was as pleasant an evening as I’d spent in a long time, a vast improvement over the events of the night before. I hated for it to end.

  I wondered if it had to.

  Turned out the same thing was on Donovan’s mind. When we got back into the Jeep, he commented, apparently idly, “This is our third date, you know.”

  “Th-third? How do you figure that?”

  “Well, we had lunch together today…”

  “I’m not sure BLTs in my kitchen counts as a d-date.”

  “They weren’t just BLTs. They had avocado on them.”

  “All right, I’ll g-give you that one. That’s still just two.”

  “We were out together last night.”

  I had to laugh. “You’re going to c-count fighting for our lives against two psychotic robbers?”

  “I didn’t say it was a good first date.”

  I was laughing so hard I had to lean against his shoulder. “All right,” I said. “I guess that’s three.”

  “And with all those romantic comedies you’ve seen,” he said softly as he leaned his head closer to mine, “you’re bound to know what usually happens on third dates.”

  I lifted my head and felt the warmth of his breath on my face. It was nothing compared to the heat that had started to blossom inside me.

  “I do know,” I whispered.

  He brushed his lips over my forehead. “Well? What do you think?”

  “I think…I’d like to see your apartment,” I told him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Yes, there was a part of my brain that warned me this was all going too fast. In fact, it didn’t just warn me. It yelled at me.

  But that was just a tiny voice compared to the others roaring and cheering in my head, celebrating that something was about to happen which, I admit, on the deepest, darkest nights of my soul, I sometimes thought would never happen.

  “Actually,” he said, “I, uh, don’t live in an apartment. I have a house.”

  “All right,” I said. “Th-that’s fine. I’d still like to see it.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure.”

  I wasn’t, not at all, but that didn’t stop me from saying, “I’m sure.”

  He started the Jeep, pulled out of the parking lot, and drove away from the restaurant. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves heading south on Ocean Drive, past the luxury hotels, the beach, and the T-Heads.

  “I love this road,” I said. “I take it whenever I can.”

  “Yes, the view is nice,” Donovan agreed. “Especially watching the sun come up over the water in the morning.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever d-driven along here at that time of day.”

  I should have picked up on what he’d just said and not been so surprised a few minutes later when he turned into a driveway and sent the Jeep along it past one of the huge, multi-million dollar homes that line that stretch of the road.

  “Oh, my God,” I said. “This is where you l-live?”

  “No, that is,” he said as he turned into a four-car garage behind the mansion and the Jeep’s headlights swept over an adorable cottage. “It’s the guest house, although I’m not actually a guest. The big house belongs to my mother.”

  “Oh.” I would have been very nervous about meeting Donovan’s mother so soon anyway, but after seeing where she lived, I knew I was going to be downright freaked out.

  As if he’d read my mind, he said, “Don’t worry, she’s out of town. She left today on a business trip. I don’t know how long she’ll be gone.”

  “What s-sort of business is she in?”

  He shrugged. “I guess you could say she’s a power broker.”

  As usual, he didn’t seem to want to talk about her, so I didn’t press the issue. I didn’t say anything as he stopped the Jeep in the garage, got out, opened my door for me, and took my hand to lead me into the guest house.
>
  It was sort of impersonal inside, as if he didn’t want to put too much of himself into it. Maybe he didn’t plan on living here permanently. I could understand that. I loved my folks, but I didn’t want to live with them, or even as close as this guest house was to the mansion.

  “I’ll give you the grand tour,” Donovan said. “It won’t take very long.”

  As long as it ended in the bedroom, I thought…Again, not like me at all. But what was, these days?

  Clearly, Fate had been saving up a bunch of life-altering experiences in order to spring them on me all at once.

  The guest house had a living room, kitchen, and two bedrooms, one of which Donovan had converted into an office that had several computers in it, along with three big-screen TVs. The room was packed to the gills with technology.

  “This l-looks like some sort of command center for the P-Pentagon,” I said.

  “I promise, I can’t launch any missiles from in here,” he replied with a grin. “But I can keep up with all the business and financial news from around the world.”

  “I guess that’s part of your j-job.”

  “I have to monitor all the developments that could affect what I do, all right.” He had an arm draped casually across my shoulders. “And if you like to play video games…”

  “Not a huge fan,” I said.

  “I won’t say anything about my World of Warcraft addiction, then.” His arm tightened slightly. “I guess that about wraps it up, except…”

  “I want to see the whole place,” I said.

  “All right.”

  We went down the hall to his bedroom. I don’t know what I was expecting. Some stereotypical bachelor pad sex lair with a mirror on the ceiling, I guess. But it was just a nice, comfortably furnished bedroom with a king-sized bed, a TV, some bookshelves, and some framed Ansel Adams wilderness photos on the walls to give it a masculine touch. The bed was made neatly.

  “This is it,” he said, and a tiny note of strain in his voice suddenly made me aware that he was nervous, too. I didn’t think for a second that he was as inexperienced as I was, so that wasn’t the source of any tension he was feeling.

  It had to be because this meant something to him, as it did to me.

  I turned to him, put my hands on his arms, and whispered, “Donovan…”

  The kiss was mutual and instinctive. We were in each other’s arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, our lips together, parting, our tongues searching, joining, and the velvety heat that ignited and began to spread through me was the warmest, most delicious thing in the world. I felt like I was melting against him, and he was hardening against me…

  You know those scenes in the romantic comedies where the hero and the heroine finally get together and they practically tear each other’s clothes off and tumble into bed?

  Yeah, something like that.

  Twice.

  o0o

  Sometime during the night, I woke up and thought that I ought to get out of bed, put my clothes back on, brush my hair into some semblance of neatness, and ask Donovan to take me home. If Taylor and Beth got up in the morning and I wasn’t there, they would probably think that I had gotten lucky – yes, I had – but they might worry about me, too.

  But it was just too warm there under the covers, wrapped up skin to skin with Donovan and listening to his soft breathing as he slept, so I didn’t move. Matilda had plenty of food and water in her bowls, along with the litter box and some toys if she felt like playing, so she would be all right, I told myself. I felt a little guilty about maybe worrying Taylor and Beth, but…

  I stayed right where I was.

  When I woke up in the morning, I was alone in the bed. I smelled bacon cooking, though, so I knew Donovan was still here. I stretched, luxuriating in how good I felt. The soreness in my muscles had all but gone away. I recalled that during the night, Donovan had spent some time kissing the bruise on my side. He had the healing touch, I mused. In more ways than one.

  When I got up, I found a thick blue robe draped across the foot of the bed. I was glad that it was a man’s robe and not a woman’s. That told me Donovan wasn’t prepared for overnight female guests. I would have found that a little cynical.

  The robe felt great when I shrugged into it, and it had that indefinable scent that I knew was Donovan’s. Between that and the bacon, the air smelled wonderful this morning.

  I followed the bacon scent, now mixed with coffee, to the kitchen, where I found him in jeans and an old sweatshirt making an omelette with crumbled bacon, tomatoes, and peppers mixed in with the eggs. Toast had already popped up from the toaster.

  “Good morning,” he said. “Sleep well?”

  “I think you know the answer to th-that,” I said. I came up behind him, slipped my arms around his waist, and rested my head against the back of his shoulder.

  He used the spatula in his hand to cut the omelette in half and moved the pieces to a couple of plates. That done, he turned, slid his arms around my waist, and leaned over to kiss me. I realized after his lips were pressed to mine that I should have worried about morning breath, but he didn’t seem bothered by it, if the enthusiasm he packed into that kiss was anything to go by.

  When he moved his head away from mine, he said quietly, “You’re all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Absolutely f-fine.”

  That was true. Everything had seemed so natural, so right, that I had no problem with what we’d done. And part of me said it was damned well about time.

  “All right. I hope you like omelettes.”

  “L-love ’em.”

  “All I’ve got for the coffee is cream and sugar…”

  “That’s fine, too.”

  I was using that word a lot, but that’s the kind of morning it was. Fine. Possibly even dandy.

  After breakfast, which tasted even better than it smelled, if that was possible, I said, “You can hit the shower f-first if you want. You probably have to get to work.”

  “Nah, I’m sort of my own boss when it comes to my working hours, as long as I get things done that have to be done.” He leaned back in his chair at the butcher block table where we had eaten. “You can go ahead. Unless…”

  I had already started thinking about the same thing. “We could share,” I suggested.

  “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

  And so it was.

  o0o

  With first one thing and then another, it was mid-morning before I got back to my apartment. Taylor and Beth were gone – no Walk of Shame in last night’s clothes when I came in, thank goodness – but there was a note from Taylor on the kitchen counter.

  “Fed Matilda,” it read. “Still no itch. Yay! Text me. Details! I want details!”

  She was just going to have to wait for that, I thought with a smile, when and if I decided to spill any of those details.

  My phone chimed while I was standing there by the counter. A text had come in from Beth wanting to know if I was all right. I texted back OK with a smiley-face following it. Now if she and Taylor talked during the day – or gossiped, I should say – at least they would know that nothing bad had happened to me.

  I changed clothes and spent some time doting on Matilda, who purred so hard as she rubbed against me that she sounded like a motorboat.

  Sherry had promised she would call if she had any work for me, but there were no messages on my phone. I could have checked in with the temp agency where I was signed up and seen if anything else had come along, but I really didn’t feel like going and answering phones or working in somebody’s mail room all day.

  Instead I started thinking about Angela Vandermeer again. The mystery of her involvement with this was still looming over me. Maybe I ought to drive by her place, I decided, and see if I could tell from outside whether she had returned.

  Once I had that plan in mind, sketchy though it was, I didn’t waste any time putting it into action. I said so long to Matilda and left the apartment.

/>   My car was getting low on gas, so on the way I pulled into a convenience store and stopped next to the pumps. I’d been pumping my own gas since high school. That was one thing my dad had made sure I knew how to do. That and how to change a tire. I was watching the numbers on the pump tick over much too rapidly to suit me when another vehicle pulled up on the other side of the gas island. It was big, and its engine was loud. I glanced that way as the engine cut off and the door opened, just idly curious the way you get when you’re doing something as boring as pouring money into your gas tank. I saw the driver get out.

  It was Gene the Monster.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fear shot through me. I couldn’t help it. I remembered how it had felt two nights earlier to have those tree-trunk arms locked around my body, squeezing the breath and the life out of me, and I almost panicked. I did take a sharp breath and stepped back quickly against my car, bracing myself for…something.

  Gene glanced over at me, nodded, and gave me a friendly smile.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t growl, he didn’t bellow, he didn’t threaten. He just gave me a polite greeting, the sort of small talk you might exchange with anybody you met as you went about your day. And he said it in a deep but quiet voice.

  Then he started to hum as he paid for his gas with a credit card and started filling the pickup’s tank.

  He still looked as intimidating as all get out, mind you, but there was absolutely nothing scary about the way he acted. And for what it was worth, he was right about it being a beautiful day. Autumn on the Gulf Coast is gorgeous, still warm but not overpoweringly hot, and today the sky was as blue as it could be overhead, dotted with fluffy white clouds. A breeze carrying the tang of salt blew in over the water, as it nearly always did.

  The pump on my side of the gas island cut off. I tried to keep my hand from trembling as I removed the nozzle and put it back in its place. Somehow I got the gas cap screwed back on as I watched Gene from the corner of my eye. I took the receipt the pump spat out and jammed it into the pocket of my jeans without looking at it. On the other side of the island, Gene was still humming.