Wicked Dreams
Authors: Lily Harper Hart
Wicked Dreams
An Ivy Morgan Mystery
Book Two
Lily Harper Hart
Text copyright © 2015 Lily Harper Hart
Jack Harker’s smile was one of those things that made Ivy Morgan’s heart go pitter-patter at odd times.
This was one of those times.
“You look pretty, honey,” Jack said, reaching over to brush her dark hair, which was shot through with bright streaks of pink, away from her face.
“Oh, this old thing,” Ivy teased, glancing down at her maxi skirt and tank top. She owned her own plant nursery, so her wardrobe choices were all her own. She didn’t have a work uniform, but if she did, this was the closest thing to it. Almost everything in her closet resembled her current ensemble.
At five-foot-seven, Ivy was relatively tall for a woman. Jack still towered over her, his body a protective mass of muscle and strength that often tilted her over into schmaltzy fantasies. It was a recent development, and one she wasn’t particularly proud of. That didn’t stop her from doing it, though.
Ivy lifted her hand and touched Jack’s cheek, rubbing her thumb over his strong jaw. “You’re pretty, too.”
“Oh, honey, I’m not pretty,” Jack said, cupping her hand with his and holding it in place. “Men aren’t pretty. I’m manly and handsome. Get it right.”
One of the things Ivy liked most about Jack was that he wasn’t too serious. As a police officer, he was dedicated to his job – and he had a haunted past that he didn’t want to talk about – but when interacting with her, he was often playful and always charming.
He was also bossy, but since that was a trait they shared, Ivy could live with it. They bossed each other around, argued incessantly, and fought off enough sexual tension to fill a stadium.
They were just friends, she reminded herself. Jack was upfront with her when they met. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. Of course, that didn’t mean he could stay away from her. So far he’d helped her uncover a murderer, played a rousing game of horse on the basketball court (which he lost), and found several reasons to stop in at Morgan’s Nursery for landscaping ideas related to an ongoing restoration project at his new house. Every interaction was fun and sexually charged. They’d also been chaste.
She wasn’t looking for a relationship either. Well, that was the mantra she repeated over and over in her head on a daily basis. She was a witch, after all. She was odd, loudmouthed, obsessive, and often irrational. She wanted to live her life in a specific way, and if people didn’t understand that, she didn’t have time for them.
A bonafide city boy, Jack never flinched at the whispers and stares that followed Ivy around town. He didn’t care that she identified as a spiritual naturalist. He didn’t care that she preferred to lose herself in books rather than strutting around Shadow Lake, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it tiny hamlet in northern Lower Michigan, like she was some sort of modern fashion plate. He even embraced her belief in magic without making fun of her or casting sidelong glances when he thought she wasn’t looking.
He was perfect in almost every way – and yet they were still treading water and just “hanging out” when the mood struck. Jack couldn’t get over his past, and Ivy was too frightened to look toward a future.
So how did they end up here?
“The sun is setting,” Jack said, tightening his grip on Ivy’s hand and pointing toward the top of the tree line. The sky looked like it was on fire.
“The sun set four hours ago,” Ivy said, sighing. “We’re in a dream.”
“You know you’re in a dream?” Jack asked, lifting a dark eyebrow.
“Don’t you?”
“No,” Jack said. “I think it must be your dream. I’m just here to be eye candy. That must be my job in your subconscious.”
Ivy snickered. “You’re good at your job.”
“I am,” Jack agreed. He glanced down at her, his molten chocolate eyes serious as they studied her expressive face. “I wish you were this … settled … when you’re awake. I like you this way.”
“What way is that?” Ivy asked.
“Relaxed.”
“I’m relaxed in real life,” Ivy scoffed. “You just think I’m not because whenever we’re around each other, I keep imagining you naked and it makes me snarky.”
Jack barked out a coarse laugh. “I can’t believe you admitted that. Just for the record, though, you’re not fooling anyone. I know what you’re thinking when you look at me.”
“How?”
“Because I’m thinking the same thing,” Jack said.
“Well, I guess it’s good this is a dream,” Ivy said, resting her head against his shoulder and staring out at the setting sun. “I can say whatever I want.”
“You can say whatever crosses that weird little mind of yours when you’re awake, too,” Jack said, his hand drifting up and enveloping her back so he could hold her close. “I like it when you say whatever you want. Most of the time, it’s funny.”
“Maybe I should be a comedian.”
“You can be the wickedest comedian witch in the Midwest,” Jack teased.
“I think you’re making fun of me,” Ivy said, jutting her lower lip out.
“I would never make fun of you,” Jack said, cupping her head and holding it still so he could gaze into her eyes.
“You always make fun of me,” Ivy countered, her mouth running dry due to the proximity of Jack’s beckoning lips. “I … um … what are you doing?”
“It’s a dream, Ivy,” Jack said, lowering his mouth to hers. “I can do whatever I want.”
IVY
bolted upright in her bed, her heart pounding and her stomach rolling as the filmy headiness of the fantasy landscape slid aside to make way for the early morning sun wafting through her bedroom curtains.
It was a dream. She knew that while she was having it, and yet it was still disappointing to wake up right when she was getting to the good part.
The black cat on the bed next to her opened one eye and glared, annoyed to have his morning slumber so rudely interrupted. Ivy stroked his soft fur. “I’m sorry I woke you, Nicodemus.”
If cats could roll their eyes, Ivy was sure that’s what Nicodemus was doing. It was almost as if he knew what she’d been dreaming about.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Ivy said. “I’m allowed to dream. I still don’t want a relationship. Jack doesn’t want one either. We’re just … friends.”
Nicodemus didn’t look like he believed her.
“We are. Stop looking at me like that.” Ivy climbed out of the bed, leaving the cat to his judgmental morning sojourn, and padded toward the shower. She was already up – even though her alarm clock wasn’t set to go off for another half hour – and she figured now was as good of a time as any to start her day. Spring was in full swing in Shadow Lake, and that meant the nursery would be bustling with garden enthusiasts. A steady clientele was exactly what Ivy needed to put her dreams of Jack Harker where they belonged: in the back of her mind.
Now she just had to convince her heart to agree with her mind.
“I NEED
a tree that takes zero work.” Charlotte Jones was a Shadow Lake lifer. She’d been born in the small hamlet forty years before, and she had every intention of dying there. She’d recently built her dream house with her husband, and now they were ready for the landscaping step.
“Most trees don’t take a lot of work after the first few weeks,” Ivy said. “What kind of tree do you want?”
“One that doesn’t take any work,” Charlotte said.
Ivy pursed her lips. She’d learned a long time ago that the customer was always right, even when they didn’t give her much to go on. “Okay,” she said, racking her brain. “What do you want the tree to represent?”
“I have an open spot in the front of my lawn and it’s bugging me,” Charlotte said. “I want a tree to put there so it doesn’t bug me.”
Well, that was helpful, Ivy internally snarked. “Do you want a pine tree?”
“Those are ugly.”
“How about a maple or oak?”
Charlotte furrowed her brow. “Those shed leaves in the fall, right?”
Ivy nodded.
“That’s work,” Charlotte said.
Well, at least they were narrowing down the choices. “How about a flowering tree?” Ivy suggested. “There’s a flowering crabapple that is absolutely beautiful, and when the blooms drop you can just mow right over them.”
“Sold,” Charlotte said. “That sounds great.”
Ivy smiled. “I don’t have any out on the lot,” she said. “I have some in the greenhouse. Give me a few minutes and I can bring one up. How big do you want it to be?”
“Which size is the easiest to plant?”
Ivy figured she should’ve expected that question. “I’m going to recommend the larger tree,” she said. “It’s more expensive, but it’s also hardier. It’s going to take a little more work to plant, but once you have it in the ground, other than watering it regularly the first few weeks, it should be effortless.”
“That sounds great,” Charlotte said. “My husband is responsible for planting it. I’m just responsible for picking it out. He said, since I insist on shopping for everything, I had to shop for this, too.”
Ivy had a feeling Charlotte’s dream house wasn’t leading to a dream marriage, but she didn’t say that out loud. “I’ll go and get the tree.”
“Take your time,” Charlotte said. “I need to pick out a few other things.”
“I’ll put it up by the register,” Ivy said. “I’ll put your name on it. Just tell Dad it’s yours when you’re checking out.”
“Thanks, Ivy,” Charlotte said. “You’re a lifesaver.”
After chatting up a few more customers, Ivy stopped near the register long enough to tell her father, Michael, she was going to be in the greenhouse for a few minutes so he could be available to answer client questions if they popped up.
Since he was her silent partner in the business and he loved horticulture, Ivy knew it wouldn’t be too much of a hardship.
“Hey, little missy,” Michael said, smiling at his daughter as she approached. “How are you today? No hug for your dear, old dad?”
Ivy stepped into his warm embrace, returning the gesture with a tight squeeze, and then took a step back. Her parents were part-timers in Shadow Lake. They spent the winter months in Florida to get away from the cold and snow, and the summer months in Michigan. They’d only been home a few weeks, and while Ivy loved them, she was already starting to chafe under their constant presence.
“Better?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“My life is always better when I have a little Ivy in it,” Michael teased. “What’s going on?”
“I have to run back to the greenhouse,” Ivy said. “Charlotte Jones needs a crabapple tree. I need you to keep an eye on everything up here.”
“I aim to please,” Michael said, mock saluting. “That’s not what I was getting at, though.”
Ivy furrowed her brow. “What were you getting at?”
“How is your love life?”
Ivy internally groaned, rolling her eyes as she regarded him with a serious expression. “Non-existent.”
“Don’t lie to your father,” Michael chided. “When you do that a fairy dies.”
“That’s what you told me when I was eight and you caught me trying to hide that kitten in my bedroom,” Ivy said. “I believed it then. I’m far too savvy to believe it now.”
“You believe it a little bit,” Michael replied, nonplussed.
The sad thing is, he was right. “Fine,” Ivy said, blowing out a sigh. “I still don’t have a love life, though.”
“What about Jack?”
“What about him?”
“Harry Morton told me he saw you two playing basketball up at the high school last week,” Michael said, not missing a beat.
“How does that constitute me having a love life?”
“He said you two were laughing and … flirting.”
“He saw that from where, his perch in the tree where he was spying on us?” Ivy was irritated. She was used to people gossiping about her. She didn’t like the idea of her time with Jack being monitored, though. It made her uncomfortable.
“People are on couple watch, Ivy,” Michael said, unruffled. “Everyone knows you and Jack are circling each other like sharks about to strike.”
“
Shark Week
isn’t until August,” Ivy said. “How can you possibly pull that analogy out of your butt in May?”
“Nice,” Michael said, smirking. “Tell me about Jack.”
“There’s nothing to tell about Jack,” Ivy said. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”
“Just until you believe it,” Michael said.
Ivy rolled her eyes. “I’m going to the greenhouse.”
“That’s fine,” Michael said, refusing to let his only daughter bait him. “This conversation will be available to revisit at any time.”
“Great,” Ivy said, turning on her heel and stalking toward the greenhouse at the edge of the property. “I can’t wait.”
“I love you, too,” Michael called to her back before focusing on a customer.
Ivy’s agitation grew with every step. She knew her father was trying to be supportive, but everyone watching her made her sick to her stomach. She wanted to live her life on her terms – not everyone else’s.
Ivy let herself into the greenhouse, taking her time to scan up and down the rows as she tried to remember where the crabapples were located. After a few moments, she remembered they were in the back corner.
