Witches of Bourbon Street (3 page)

“That’s too bad. I’d planned melted chocolate and strawberries for dessert.”

He groaned and his intense eyes caught mine. A flash of his desire shot through my middle, making me catch my breath. His elevated pulse confirmed my reaction hadn’t gone unnoticed. Without speaking, he tugged me off the stool toward his bedroom.

“Hey, I wasn’t finished.”

“There’s more in the fridge.”

His lips closed over mine, cutting off my protests. Despite his implication of needing to work, we took our time undressing each other one piece of clothing at a time, using our lips to explore every inch of newly exposed skin. The passion we each harbored grew hot and fierce as we tumbled into his bed, forgetting everything but each other.

It was a long time before we lay wrapped together in a tangle of limbs, spent and languid. Kane ran his fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head. “I love you, pretty witch.”

I was too content to scold him for using the unwanted nickname. Instead, I traced the back of his fingers with my own and smiled into his chest. “I love you too, my pioneer man.”

He pulled me close, wrapped his arm over my middle. His good humor tickled my senses just before he fell asleep. I lay awake, listening to his steady breathing.

After some time, I finally faded into a restless dream state. A faint trace of humor grabbed my attention, and my fuzzy mind tried to focus on the familiar energy. Slowly, an image began to appear, shapeless at first, then transformed into a woman’s silhouette. I squinted, trying to make out her identity, and grinned when my mother appeared in our old kitchen back in Idaho.

She scooped a bunch of strawberries into a bowl and glanced at me. “Whipped cream or chocolate, Shortcake?”

“Mom,” my fourteen-year-old self moaned. “You have got to stop calling me that. I’m two inches taller than you.”

Her eyes twinkled as she lightly grabbed a handful of my strawberry-blond hair. “With a gorgeous color like this, you’ll always be my Shortcake.”

I pulled away, laughing and embarrassed at the attention.

She moved to our old-fashioned, robin-blue refrigerator that matched the porcelain sink. “So, which one?” She held up a bag of dark chocolate chips and a container of heavy whipping cream.

“Both.” I pulled out the double boiler to start melting the chocolate.

“That’s my girl.”

The dream faded, taking the warm, happy glow of the cherished memory with it. I woke feeling empty and alone, the way I always did after I dreamed of my mother.

A light shone under the bedroom door. I got up and followed it to the kitchen. Kane, with a serious case of bed-head, sat in front of his laptop, gripping a giant mug of steaming coffee.

The rich aroma made my stomach growl. “What time is it?”

“About two.” He yawned. “Did I wake you?”

“No. Just a dream.” I shuffled to the refrigerator and pulled out the strawberries. I scanned the shelves looking for cream, frowning when I came up empty. “How long have you been up?”

“A few hours. The proposal wasn’t going to write itself.” He tapped a few keys then paused as I pulled out a slow cooker from his cabinet. “What are you up to?”

“Dessert.” I sent him a small smile and dumped the chocolate into the pot. “Someone interrupted my dinner and I’m in need of a two a.m. snack.”

“Need help?”

“No, thanks.”

With the chocolate set to low, I washed the strawberries and took my time slicing them. How many times had I shared the activity with my mother? I couldn’t possibly say. It had been our favorite dessert. She’d always said, “It can’t be that bad. Look at all the fruit on the plate.”

Then I’d read her the fat grams from the heavy cream container. In response, she’d stuff a giant spoonful of freshly whipped cream in her mouth. The image always made me giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Kane came up behind me.

“Just something my mom used to do when I was a kid.” I grabbed a strawberry and dipped it in the melted chocolate. “Here.”

He took a bite, looking thoughtful. After a moment he opened the refrigerator, rummaged around a minute, and came up with a spray can of whipped cream. “Didn’t you once tell me this was your favorite dessert as a kid?”

I grinned. It wasn’t freshly whipped, but it would do.

***

The only bad thing about working at The Grind was the ungodly hours. Five a.m. should be outlawed. By nine-thirty I was ready for a serious nap. Stifling a yawn, I absently cleaned the espresso machine as the last of the morning rush filed out of the café.

The minute the door closed, Pyper swept her electric-blue-streaked dark hair into a bun and said, “I need a favor.”

“Sure.” I started wiping the counter down, but when she didn’t elaborate I paused and looked up. She stood at the counter, pretending to straighten a display of chocolate-covered espresso beans. The ones I’d just finished restocking.

She stilled when she realized I was watching. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“I can see that.” I eyed her. Was she nervous? I’d never seen Pyper anything but all brass with confidence to spare.

“Are you guys busy tomorrow night? You and Kane, I mean?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think so. Unless he’s working at Wicked.” Technically, Kane’s professional job was a financial consultant. But he also owned the strip club next door. He had a manager to run it, but he wasn’t exactly a hands-off guy. At least when it came to the money end of things.

She waved a hand. “Charlie’s working. He doesn’t need to be there.”

I laughed. “Charlie does such a wonderful job running the place that he never needs to be there. But that doesn’t stop him. Or you, for that matter.” Pyper had been the manager prior to Charlie taking over, and even though Pyper didn’t need to spend half her life there, she still did. “You both need Workaholics Anonymous.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Anyway, tomorrow.” Her lips quirked into a shy smile and she blushed. Actually blushed. “Are you busy for dinner? I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Why, Pyper, have you met a man you want to introduce to the family? Or a woman?” I teased, remembering she didn’t discriminate when it came to love.

Her blush vanished and a glint lit her eyes. “Something like that. Seven okay?”

“Sounds good.” My phone buzzed and I pulled it from my pocket.

A text from my best friend, Kat, read:
News alert, I’ve got a date!

I typed back:
Awesome. Who with?

Almost instantly, she replied.
Someone I’ve had my eye on for a while. I’ll call you later.

Smiling, I glanced at Pyper. “You’re not the only one with a new love interest—wait, is that who I think it is?” I pointed past her toward a tall, dark-haired man and a very familiar bohemian-chic woman standing in front of the café.

Pyper peered over the counter as the woman pulled the man into her arms and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “Looks like Lailah’s found a boyfriend. It’s about time. I thought she’d never get over Kane. It’s been forever since they dated.”

I choked on an intake of breath. After a gulp of water, I spat out, “What the hell is she doing with Dan?”

Pyper’s eyes went wide. “Your ex?”

Transfixed on the scene outside, I barely heard her.

“Jade?”

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

“I…” The initial shock started to fade, but I couldn’t help but be annoyed. What the hell? Did everyone I know have to date him? We’d been together all through college and had almost gotten engaged before we’d destroyed our relationship. Not long after that he’d started dating Kat…until he assaulted me in the club a few months back and she dumped him. I turned on Pyper. “If you ever so much as even think about going out with Dan, I’m going to have to resign as your friend.”

She scoffed. “Date him? You’re kidding, right? Why would I ever go out with a homophobic asshole?”

Her matter-of-fact, flippant tone released the tightness in my chest as Lailah entered the café.

“Where’s the douche canoe?” Pyper asked her.

I opened my mouth, but laughter bubbled out in the form of a chuckle.

“Um, what?” Lailah asked.

“The douche canoe. Jade’s ex. The guy you were slobbering all over.” Pyper stood with her hands on her hips, staring Lailah down.

Lailah set her purse on the counter. Her normal light, intuitive energy turned thick as a tiny amount of irritation escaped her essence. “You mean Dan?”

I sobered and mirrored Pyper in her confrontational stance. “Yes, Dan.”

She gritted her teeth. “I’m not dating him. It’s…” She looked around, no doubt checking to see if we had any patrons. “I’m working with him.”

“Didn’t look like work to me,” Pyper mumbled.

“On what?” I asked.

“It’s confidential.”

Pyper and I stared at her.

“I’d tell you if I could, but—” she raised a finger and pointed skyward, “—it’s angel business.”

“Oh. Right,” Pyper said with a snort.

“Look, I just came in to say hello and order a chai, but if I’m not welcome—”

“No, no. It’s fine.” I went to work on her drink, trying very hard to not say anything. She’d told us once she was a low-level angel, but none of us knew what the heck that meant. And she hadn’t explained other than to say she could wield spells, but didn’t really need incantations and potions. What any of that had to do with Dan, I didn’t know, but I was dying to find out.

While I steamed the milk, I studied the angel. “How does it work? Do you have assignments?”

“I’m sorry, Jade. I can imagine you’re curious, but I really can’t talk about it.”

I shrugged, feigning disinterest. Then I remembered, while she wasn’t an empath, she had enough intuitive energy that she could see right through me. I sighed and finished her drink. Just as I placed it on the counter, the door swung open and in walked Dan.

He strode right up to the counter, ignored Lailah, and stared pointedly at me. “Jade.”

“Dan.” I backed up, even though the coffee bar and another three feet separated us. “Pyper will take your order.”

“I don’t want anything, thank you. I’m here to see you.”

Pyper stepped forward. Her protectiveness came through loud and clear. I placed a hand on her arm to stop her before she said anything.

The last few times I’d run into Dan, he’d been a real prick. Today there was something different about him. I studied him, trying to figure it out. After a moment it hit me. His emotions were under tight control.

A twinge of guilt settled in my gut, but I sent my energy out anyway. It was an invasion of privacy, and the reason Dan and I had broken up, but if I was going to talk to him, I needed to know his state of mind.

With his emotions locked down, it was hard to get a read. On the surface, he was doing a very good job of projecting a layer of calm. There was something else there, though, and it tugged at my senses. What was it? Arrogance? Determination? Maybe a little of both. I pushed deeper. Fear. Deep-seated fear.

Why in the world would Dan fear me? That’s when it hit me. My gift. He feared I’d know exactly what he was feeling. Crap. He was right. Instantly, I erected the imaginary glass barriers I used when I wanted to shield myself from unwanted emotions. It probably wasn’t necessary since he was keeping his in check, but it made me feel better.

“What do you want, Dan?” I asked in a measured tone.

He took a deep breath. “To apologize.”

His words hit me in a wave of confusion. I stared at him in disbelief.

“I know I did and said some terrible things after we broke up. I have no excuse. I won’t even try. I just wanted you to know I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.”

His words and tone were so much like the Dan I’d been friends with, and then dated all those years, that when he held his hand out, I automatically took it without thinking.

He gripped my hand, shaking it, and continued to apologize. I didn’t comprehend a word. My hand started to smolder in a slow burn in all the places his skin touched mine.

“Let go!” I yanked my hand back, cradled it against my chest.

“What the hell?” Pyper stepped in front of me, shielding me from Dan’s view. She turned on Lailah. “Get him out of here.”

“But,” Dan said, “it’s part of my anger management classes.”

“What? Crushing her hand?” Pyper asked.

“I didn’t…Jade, are you okay?” The softness in Dan’s voice went against everything I’d felt coming from him. The burn had been a reflection of his inner self. The mark of a man marinating in toxic energy.

“I’m fine.” I craned my neck to see around Pyper. The concern in his eyes made me look away. “You should go.”

A moment later the bell on the door chimed, signaling they had left.

“What the hell just happened?” Pyper demanded.

I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

Chapter 3

The grooves in the metal ladder pinched the arch of my bare foot, making me wince as I reached forward and secured the portrait to the wall. “If I’d known you’d have me doing manual labor, I would have worn more suitable shoes,” I called down to Kane.