4 Witching On A Star (13 page)

Landon growled as he searched through the bushes. “What are you doing out here?”

I watched with wide-eyed wonder as Landon reached down and dragged Aunt Tillie into the clearing. She didn’t look happy about being discovered.

“This is undignified.”

“What are you doing out here?” Landon repeated the question.

“Taking a walk.”

I looked her up and down, my eyes lingering on the bag she was carrying. “What’s in the bag?”

“Nothing.”

“Why don’t I believe her?” Landon asked, pulling the bag from Aunt Tillie, who only put up a token fight before she relinquished it.

“Because you’re not stupid,” Thistle replied.

Landon unzipped the bag and looked inside of it. Disbelief registered across his face before he held it out towards me. “What is that?”

Uh-oh.

I moved to his side, taking the bag from him and peering into it. I frowned when I saw its contents. “What are those?” I questioned Aunt Tillie.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re lying.”

“That’s an ugly thing to say.”

“Just tell me what’s in the bag.”

“I have no idea,” Aunt Tillie said.

“You packed it,” I reminded her.

“I’m old, I forget things. It must be the dementia.”

“Oh, just let that go,” Thistle sighed, picking her way over to us and taking the bag from me. She looked inside and then turned to Aunt Tillie incredulously. “Is this what I think it is?”

“That depends, what do you think it is?”

“It’s some kind of larvae.”

“Like for bugs?” I took a step away from Thistle and the bag.

“Yeah.”

“That’s gross.”

“Where were you taking this? And what kind of bugs?” I asked.

“And where did you get them?” Thistle added.

“I ordered them off the Internet.”

We had to find out where she was shopping, I swear.

“What are they?”

“Butterflies,” Aunt Tillie responded coldly. “They’re butterflies.”

“Why would you be sneaking around at night with a bag full of butterfly larvae?” Clove asked suspiciously.

“I am not sneaking,” Aunt Tillie countered. “This is my property. You can’t sneak around on your own property.”

“You can if you’re hiding something from your nieces and grand-nieces,” I shot back. “So, I ask again, why are you sneaking around with a bag full of butterfly larvae?”

“They’re not ready to swarm yet,” Aunt Tillie admitted. “I couldn’t risk your mothers finding them and destroying them.”

“Why would they kill butterflies?” Clove asked.

“Because they’re not just butterflies,” Thistle interjected. “She’s done something to them.”

“Why?” Landon asked.

“My guess? Because she’s enchanted them so they’ll do something evil and she plans on releasing them at the Dragonfly,” I replied.

“You’re on my list now, too,” Aunt Tillie threatened.

“It sounds like a pretty long list,” Landon sighed.

“It’s getting longer every minute,” Aunt Tillie agreed, narrowing her eyes at him suggestively.

“Well, I’m going to take the . . . larvae, and you’re going to go back to the inn, and we’re going to go back to the guesthouse and I’m going to try and pretend like this entire night never happened.”

“Good for you, Sparky,” Aunt Tillie scoffed.

“Marcus,” Landon barked. “I want you to walk Aunt Tillie back to the inn, make sure she goes inside and then join us at the guesthouse.”

Marcus didn’t even attempt to argue with Landon. He moved to Aunt Tillie’s side quickly and directed her out of the clearing. She complained bitterly the whole time.

“I’m not going to forget this,” Aunt Tillie warned. “You’re all on my list.”

“Fine,” Landon waved her off.

Once they were gone, Landon fixed me with an angry glare. “We’re going back to your place and we’re going to bed. I can’t even . . . I don’t even . . . I just want some sleep right now.”

“Okay,” I replied worriedly.

“You people . . . you give me a headache.”

Landon stalked out of the clearing, but not before snatching Aunt Tillie’s bag from Thistle and slinging it over his shoulder. I heard him mutter something, but I only caught three words: crazy and loony bin.

Thistle turned to me. “I think we might have broken him.”

“He’ll be fine,” I said. “He just needs some sleep.”

“You better give him a little treat when we get back. You know, take his mind off things.”

“Yeah,” Clove agreed. “He looks like he’s about ready to flip out.”

“He said he wouldn’t flip out.”

“We make people crazy,” Thistle said. “That’s our family’s true gift.”

All three of us jumped when we heard another twig snap, this one was back in the direction Marcus and Aunt Tillie had fled.

Thistle sighed. “It’s probably just Aunt Tillie being . . . well, Aunt Tillie.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. I stopped to stare at the area one last time, though. A chill ran through me.

“Bay!”

I pulled my gaze from the spot I had been staring and hurried after Landon and my cousins. I was actually looking forward to this night ending, too. Sometimes my family made me tired, as well.

Just don’t tell Aunt Tillie.

“What is that smell?”

“What smell?” Landon mumbled from his spot under the covers next to me.

“I don’t know, breakfast or something,” I replied, snuggling in closer to him. I felt his arms come around me, pulling me closer, and I exhaled a sigh of relief that he didn’t pull away. He’d been fairly angry when we returned to the guesthouse the previous evening. While he hadn’t been overtly cold when we went to bed, he wasn’t his flirtatious self either.

Landon paused, his face buried in my hair for a second, and then he sat up straight. “It does smell good. Like bacon.”

“I don’t think we have bacon,” I said. “We really need to go grocery shopping.”

“Obviously someone is cooking something.” Landon climbed out of bed and I took a second to enjoy the view. Lean muscles, toned skin, narrow hips, cute butt. He really did have the whole package. When you added his dimples and soulful eyes, he looked just good enough to eat.

Landon pulled on his jeans and shirt and, when he turned around, caught me checking him out. He smirked when I reddened. “I can have these pants off in less than ten seconds.”

I considered the offer. “Let’s see if something is really being cooked out there first,” I said.

“You don’t want to work up an appetite first?”

The truth was, I was already pretty hungry. When my stomach growled, Landon extended his hand to pull me out of bed. “I don’t think I’m what you’re hungry for right now.”

I padded out to the living room, expecting to find Thistle and Clove toiling in the kitchen, but instead found them standing in the living room staring at each other accusingly.

“What’s going on?”

“You don’t know yet?” Thistle looked infuriated.

“Don’t know what?”

“You don’t smell that?”

I glanced at the two of them warily. “I thought you two were cooking breakfast.”

“Really?” Thistle asked sarcastically. “When have I ever cooked you breakfast?”

“Well, then, what’s that smell?”

“It’s bacon,” Clove said grimly.

“Yeah, I figured that out,” I replied irritably. “That’s why I thought you were cooking breakfast.”

“No,” Thistle shook her head. “We’re not cooking anything.”

“Then where is it coming from?”

Landon, who had been standing behind me, leaned in and sniffed my hair curiously. “It’s coming from you.”

“It’s coming from them, too,” Marcus said helpfully from his spot in the kitchen where he was sipping from a cup of coffee. “They all smell like cooking bacon.”

“I don’t get it,” I said, furrowing my brow. Then, suddenly, I realized. “Aunt Tillie.”

“You think?” Thistle shot back. “I’m going to find that old lady and kill her.”

“Why would she do this?” Clove whined.

I was surprised when I felt Landon move in closer behind me and nuzzle his face against my hair. “Really? This turns you on?” I asked him blandly.

“You smell really good,” Landon admitted. “I can’t help it. Who doesn’t love the smell of bacon?”

“And what do you think people are going to say when they smell us out in public?” I asked him.

“Well, they better not get close enough to get a good whiff,” Landon said pragmatically. “You’re going to be beating men off with a stick if they smell you.”

“Yeah, a hot dog on a stick,” Thistle spat out.

“She’s making me stay over here,” Marcus lamented. “I had the same reaction you did.”

“Let’s go back to bed,” Landon suggested.

“I thought we were having breakfast?” I reminded him.

“That’s exactly what I have planned.”

“I’m a little freaked out that you’re more interested me now than you’ve ever been before – and all because I smell like bacon.”

“Do you think you taste like bacon?”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re not going to find out . . . hey, did you just lick my face?”

“You do taste like bacon,” Landon said excitedly.

Marcus’ eyes brightened from across the room as he focused on Thistle.

“Let’s just go back to bed for a little while,” Landon pleaded. “I promise I’ll buy you breakfast afterwards.”

“It better be a big breakfast,” I complained, but I let him drag me back to the bedroom. What? I was kind of interested to see what would happen.

TWO INCREDIB
LY
enthusiastic hours later, Landon and I were leaving one of the small diners downtown after he had delivered on my promised breakfast.

“Best morning ever,” Landon announced once we were outside.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” I replied, although the glow I had seen emanating from my own skin when we left home a half hour before had been proof that I couldn’t really argue with his assertion. “I still don’t know how I’m going to explain this to anyone else who smells it.”

“How long do you think it will last?” Landon asked.

I shrugged. “I have no idea. It depends on how mad she was when she conjured her curse.”

“I’m hoping it’s a while,” Landon said honestly. “A good long while.”

“I smell like bacon,” I reminded him.

“And taste, don’t forget taste,” Landon added.

“I just know this is going to become a thing,” I grumbled. “Brian is going to start questioning me about it.”

“Tell him it’s a perfume oil or something,” Landon suggested. “And he better not find out you taste like bacon, too,” he warned me.

“They don’t have perfume oil that smells like bacon,” I countered.

“I bet they do,” Landon said. “Bacon is everywhere.”

“Awesome.”

“You don’t have to worry about it today,” Landon said. “It’s Thursday. You don’t have to go in, right?”

“Right,” I agreed warily. “What did you have in mind? And, no, spending the entire day in bed isn’t an option.”

“Not even if I bring lettuce and tomato?” Landon teased.

“Especially if you bring lettuce and tomato.”

“Actually, that wasn’t what I had in mind,” Landon said.

“Really?” I arched an eyebrow. I was having trouble believing him.

“Not right now at least,” Landon ceded. “I was thinking you could take me out to the Dandridge instead.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I want to see it.”

“Okay,” I shrugged. “Let’s go.”

“We’re going to revisit the lettuce and tomato thing later, though. Just be ready.”

Good grief.

I directed Landon out to the Dandridge, having him park at Wetzel Road so we wouldn’t have to walk as far. Once we were in front of the lighthouse, Landon whistled lowly in surprise.

“This is actually pretty cool.”

“It’s run down,” I said.

“Not as bad as you would think, though,” Landon said, climbing up the front steps of the lighthouse and tugging on the door in an attempt to open it. “It’s locked. How did you guys get in here?”

I glanced up at him. “Do you really want to know?”

Landon grinned. “Impress me.”

I shook my head ruefully but climbed the steps to give him the performance he wanted. I placed my hand on the doorknob, whispered a quick spell, and then turned the knob when I heard the lock tumble.

Landon looked truly impressed. “That must have come in handy when you were a kid. No one could lock you out of your Aunt Tillie’s wine closet. My brothers and me would have loved a way to get into my dad’s beer shed.”

I cast a curious glance in Landon’s direction. “You don’t talk about your family much.”

“Yes I do,” Landon countered.

“No,” I shook my head, wandering into the lighthouse in front of Landon. “You don’t. You put up with my family constantly, and yet you never really talk about your family. I don’t know anything about them.”

Landon pressed a kiss to my neck – which I’m sure was just another gambit to get a taste of my bacon skin – and then moved away to get a better look at the interior of the Dandridge.

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Are your parents both alive?”

“They are,” Landon said. “They live in the Bay City area.”

“Close to your brother, the Baptist minister in Saginaw?”

“See, I have told you about my family.” Landon looked pleased that I remembered what he had told me.

“Not really,” I pressed.

“What are you getting at, Bay?” Landon asked seriously. “Do you want to meet my family?”

I felt my face color and was glad it was dim enough that he couldn’t see me blush from several feet away. “I wasn’t fishing for an invitation to meet your family. I was just curious.”

“Okay,” Landon said easily. “Well, let’s see. I’m the oldest of three boys. My parents were fairly strict when we were growing up. My mom was a homemaker and my dad was a police officer.”

“Really? Is that why you became a FBI agent?”

“Probably,” Landon said. “I think my parents were worried there for awhile, when we were teenagers, that we were all going to end up on the wrong side of the bars in jail.”

“Really?” I was amused at the thought. “You were rowdy?”

“We got in our fair share of trouble.”

“But you said that your parents were strict.”

“They were,” Landon nodded. “Kids will be kids, though. I think, maybe, because they were so strict, that’s why we all rebelled so hard.”

“And yet you have a brother that decided to be a minister,” I mused.

“Yeah, and he was the wildest one,” Landon said with a small laugh. “I guess he was making amends for all the beer he drank and all the bras he tried to undo without anyone noticing.”

“Do you see them much?”

“I see them every couple of months, when I get time to go down there,” Landon replied.

“When was the last time you went down there?”

Landon met my gaze evenly. “Right before I came back to Hemlock Cove.”

I swallowed inadvertently. “Oh.”

Landon stilled his wandering. “I can’t quite figure out what you’re worried about,” he admitted. “Is it that you think I told them about you? About you and your family?”

“No,” I said hurriedly. “That’s not what I was thinking.”

“Then what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that they’re probably a nice, normal family,” I said honestly. “They’re not going to like me. They’re not going to like us. They’re probably going to wonder why you’re with me.”

Landon’s face broke into a wry grin. “They’ll like you,” Landon said. “Trust me. There’s a lot to like – and that was before the whole bacon thing. If that’s still around when you meet them, they’ll love you.”

My heart was warmed by his answer, but I was still bothered. “How are you going to explain my family?”

“Everyone’s family has . . . quirks, Bay,” Landon replied calmly. “I don’t have to explain anything about your family. You’re all tight. You all love each other. You all fight. If you eliminate that whole witch thing – which I’m starting to get used to, by the way – you’re all extremely normal, too. There’s nothing wrong with your family.”

“Aunt Tillie is normal?”

“Well, Aunt Tillie is Aunt Tillie,” Landon said. “I’ve got my own Aunt Tillie. We don’t call her Aunt Tillie, but trust me, I’ve got my own Aunt Tillie.”

“Really?” I had my doubts.

“Oh, yeah, Aunt Blanche is pretty much Aunt Tillie’s clone – only she can’t curse anyone,” Landon said. “If she could have cursed my brothers and I, though, you can be very sure she would have.”

I smiled softly, relief warming my heart. “I just . . .”

Landon crossed the room and pulled me towards him, planting a soft and reassuring kiss on my lips. I sank into it; relishing his strength and that soft hum I felt whenever he was near.

The sound of someone clearing his throat caused us to pull apart swiftly.

Dean was standing in the door watching us, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I was going to call the police when I saw the door open. Since there’s a FBI agent already here, though, I guess that would have been a wasted call.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized profusely.

“The door was open,” Landon said hurriedly. “I just wanted to see the building. After you were talking about it last night, I just thought it sounded cool.”

“It’s fine,” Dean said, waving off Landon’s explanation. “I don’t blame you. It’s not like you were doing anything. Well, at least not yet.” Dean winked at me.

“I’m surprised at what good shape the building is in,” Landon said, changing the subject. “I would have thought it would be more run-down. It looks pretty sound, though.”

“They built to last back in those days,” Dean said.

“What year was this built?”

“Um, 1847,” Dean said. “Right when the Underground Railroad started picking up steam.”

Something clicked in my head.

“The Underground Railroad? You mean, like during the Civil War?”