Witching You Were Here (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Book 3) (24 page)

“You’re a reporter for a weekly,” Ted scoffed. “I don’t think that qualifies you as Lois Lane.”

“Why are you skirting the question?”

I looked up in surprise when I saw Aunt Tillie slink into the room. It didn’t surprise me that she had been listening at the door. The only thing that surprised me was that she had held her tongue as long as she had.

“Tillie,” Ted’s demeanor changed from irritated to fearful. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I was just checking to see what was taking so long with the coffee,” Aunt Tillie said. “I figured, given your track record and all, that maybe you had just run out and abandoned it.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. I was annoyed with Aunt Tillie – like any other day – but when she turned her considerably evil talents to messing with someone else it was always an entertaining event.

“I’m getting sick of your jabs,” Ted swung on Aunt Tillie suddenly, his face red with rage. “You have your version of events, and it’s pretty far removed from the truth.”

I was stunned with the change in Ted’s demeanor. He was actually trying to tower over Aunt Tillie – which wasn’t hard, given her slight frame – and he was trying to intimidate her. For her part, Aunt Tillie didn’t look all that worried. Bigger men had tried to terrify her into submission – that usually ended up with them crying and begging for mercy.

“Ted,” Aunt Tillie said calmly. “I don’t blame you for everything that happened when your marriage to
Twila fell apart.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise. Was she actually placating Ted?

“I do, however, blame you for being a spineless worm that walked out on his daughter in his haste to extricate himself from a marriage that wasn’t working – and was never going to work.”

So much for placating him.
I took a leery step towards Aunt Tillie. I didn’t think Ted would be stupid enough to physically attack her, especially given the fact that there was a FBI agent in the next room, but I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure.

“You’re right,” Ted said miserably.

“What?” I turned to him in surprise.

“She’s right,” Ted’s eyes were suddenly swimming in unshed tears. “What kind of father runs away from his own child?”

“A deadbeat one,” I said honestly.

Ted met my gaze, surprised by my honesty. “I know that you and Thistle are close . . .”

“They’re sisters,” Aunt Tillie said prissily.

“If you don’t like me, if you keep pushing me, Bay, then she won’t like me and she’ll pull back.”

I realized what Ted was asking – but I wasn’t sure it was something I could give. “It has nothing to do with liking you Ted. I think you’re up to something,” I said honestly. “Thistle is a grown up,” I continued. “She can make her own decisions.”

“Does she think I’m up to something, too?” Ted asked.

Aunt Tillie shifted her gaze to mine, waiting to hear the answer. She looked just as interested as Ted. My mind shifted to not one but two different excursions into the Dragonfly under the cover of snow and dark. “We all think you’re up to something,” I said reluctantly. “And until you own up to what you’re really doing out at the Hollow Creek and at the Dragonfly, I don’t see that changing any time soon.”

Ted swallowed hard. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he just nodded. “I guess I’ve earned that.”

“I guess you have.”

Aunt Tillie and I watched Ted start to leave the kitchen, both of us with heavy hearts and minds. I didn’t think our hearts were heavy with the same thing, though, until Aunt Tillie spoke.

“I don’t think you’re a bad man, Ted,” she said finally.

Ted turned to her, hope lighting up his brown eyes.

“You hurt that girl, though, you make her shed one single solitary tear – even one – and I’ll castrate you and tie you to a fence post and let the vultures eat you.”

Ted’s face went ashen in the face of Aunt Tillie’s colorful threat. Once he left the room, I turned to Aunt Tillie. “There aren’t any vultures in the area,” I said. “It was an intriguing threat, though. Visual. One you can’t help but picture.”

“You think I can’t conjure up vultures?” Aunt Tillie raised an eyebrow and then sashayed out of the kitchen.

Cripes, that woman was definitely scary. It was a good thing she was on our side – most of the time, anyway.

“I think you should let me drive.”

“I think you should mind your own business.”

“I think you should let me drive,” Landon repeated. He was standing next to Aunt Tillie’s aged plow truck – blocking her from the driver’s side door that she was trying to utilize.

“And I told you that you should mind your own business.” For her part, Aunt Tillie looked like an enraged – but appropriately layered against the cold – hobbit with a purpose. And that purpose? To clear the country road between the inn and town from about a foot and a half of snow.

Landon, who often vacillated between amused and annoyed when dealing with Aunt Tillie, was firmly in the annoyed category at the present moment. He also wasn’t giving up any ground. “Do you have a driver’s license?”

“Of course.”

“Show it to me.”

“No,” Aunt Tillie balked. “I have a right to privacy, and that’s invading my privacy.”

“How is that invading your privacy?”

“There’s stuff on there that I don’t want anyone to see,” Aunt Tillie said stubbornly.

“Like?”

“Like my weight.”

“I won’t look at your weight.”

“Now that I’ve told you that I don’t want you to look at it, that’s the first thing you’ll look at,” Aunt Tillie said knowingly.

Landon rubbed his chin ruefully. I couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t shaved that morning – and morning stubble made him look even sexier than usual. I internalized the sigh that threatened to escape. Now was not the time for flights of fancy with Landon and his scruffy face.

“I think you should let me drive,” Landon tried a different tack. “I’m a man and it will hurt my ego if you don’t let me drive.”

Aunt Tillie narrowed her eyes at him distrustfully. “I have my doubts about you being a man. Men are better liars.”

Landon grabbed his heart in faux pain. “You wound me.” His eyes were deadly serious, though, despite the mirth in his words.

“I’m driving.”

“No, I’m driving,” he corrected her.

“Bay, will you tell your boyfriend that this is my truck and I’m the one driving?” Aunt Tillie turned to me expectantly.

“Yeah, Bay,” Thistle sang out from behind me. “Tell Landon how it’s going to be. Lay down the law.”

I shot Thistle a dirty look and, if I’m being truthful, the finger, too. Then I turned back to Aunt Tillie. “Landon isn’t my boyfriend,” I said.

Landon glared in my direction. “That’s what you’re arguing with? The fact that she called me your boyfriend?”

“What should I be arguing with?” I asked stubbornly.

“How about the fact that she shouldn’t be driving? How about that?”

“She’s fine,” I waved off his concerns. “She’s not going to die behind the wheel of her plow.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Landon seethed. “I’m talking about her hitting someone else.”

“I would never do that,” Aunt Tillie looked scandalized.

“She hasn’t had any accidents in years,” I said.

Landon didn’t look convinced. “Just let me drive.”

“No,” Aunt Tillie put her hands on her hips stubbornly. “And if you say it one more time, I won’t give you a ride into town.”

“That may be a blessing,” Landon said under his breath.

“You want to stay here and spend time with my mom?” I asked him pointedly.

Landon seemed to consider the suggestion for a second. His shudder, though, told me that he was dismissing it outright. “Fine.”

Thistle and Clove climbed into the back of the truck again, leaving me to slide over to the center seat. Landon begrudgingly climbed into the passenger side seat of the truck and fastened himself in. Aunt Tillie was a lot more smug when she climbed into the truck and settled herself behind the wheel. “Everyone ready for an adventure?”

Landon didn’t look happy with the levity of her words or the condescending nature of her stare. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud, though, when I felt his hand grip my knee. His knuckles were white from the effort he was exerting to keep from jerking the wheel out of Aunt Tillie’s hands.

Here’s the thing, Aunt Tillie really is a poor driver. She’s so short she has trouble seeing over the steering wheel – especially in a big truck like the one we were in now. She had long ago taken to stacking kitchen chair cushions underneath her so she could see out of the windshield. That was only one problem taken care of, though. The other was the fact that she had a lead foot. It was bad enough on dry roads in the summer. On wet ones in the winter, though, it was kind of like being in a runaway roller-coaster with snow banks.

Each time we ricocheted off one snow bank Landon gritted his teeth. Every time we careened into another, he muttered under his breath. It took us about an hour to get to town. And, by the time that we did, I had heard pretty much every swear word ever invented – and even a few I had never heard before. Landon looked relieved when we came around the corner and found that Hemlock Cove itself had already been plowed out. Not only that, whomever had done it had pulled his vehicle and Thistle’s car out of the snow drifts and left them in the parking lot of the police station.

“You’re probably going to have to pay a fine,” I glanced at Thistle in the rearview mirror.

“It won’t be the first time,” she sighed.

“Since it’s my fault we got caught downtown, I’ll pay for it,” I offered.

“We’ll split it,” Clove said congenially. “Even though I told you that I didn’t want to go on that little adventure.”

Thistle kicked Clove viciously, causing her to yelp out. She shot a pointed look in Landon’s direction and then raised her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. The exchange wasn’t lost on Landon. “Why would you get a ticket?”

“It’s a snow emergency,” I said breezily. “You can’t leave vehicles on city streets overnight in a snow emergency.” I had no doubt that Landon knew I was lying. I tried to pretend that I didn’t notice his grip on my knee tightening, though.

“Why was it your fault that you were downtown so late yesterday?” Landon asked the question like it wasn’t important, but I could tell that he was thinking the exact opposite. “Were you doing girl things?”

“Yeah, we were buying tampons,” Thistle shot back pointedly. “And douche. We were buying tampons and douche.” She was trying to make Landon uncomfortable, that much was obvious, but I was the one feeling the blush creeping over my cheeks. I glanced at Landon and noticed the color rushing to his face, as well.

“You know what’s funny about that?”

“What?” Thistle said innocently.

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “I know women.”

“How many women have you known?” Aunt Tillie interjected. I glanced over at her. She had no idea why she was helping; she just knew that she didn’t like Landon’s tone. I let her have her malevolent fun, though. I didn’t think that admitting we were breaking and entering when we should have been ducking and covering was going to make him all that happy with me.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Landon asked irritably.

“I’m just curious. The sexual exploits of a man’s past tell you a lot about a man’s future.”

Landon’s face looked blank for a second. “Are you trying to confuse me?”

“That depends,” Aunt Tillie placed her tongue in her cheek. “Are you confused or are you evading me?”

“Evading you? Why would I be evading you?”

“Because you don’t want to tell me how many women you’ve slept with.”

“How many men have you slept with,” Landon challenged her.

“One.”

“One?” Landon turned to me for confirmation.

“Don’t look at me,” I said. “I have no idea.”

“How many have you been with again, dear?” Aunt Tillie turned to Landon.

Landon snorted in disgust. “I’m not answering that.”

Aunt Tillie turned to me. “That means he’s been with a lot. Maybe he’s like that Kareem Abdul Chamberlain.”

“Who?” I furrowed my eyebrows.

“That basketball player that slept with a hundred women,” Aunt Tillie supplied.

“I haven’t slept with a hundred women,” Landon challenged.

“Maybe he’s still a virgin,” Thistle piped up from the backseat.

Aunt Tillie nodded sagely. “That could be it.”

“I’m not a virgin either,” Landon growled.

“So why won’t you tell us how many women you’ve slept with?” Clove piped up from the backseat, joining the fun.

Landon slid a dangerous look in my direction. “You and I are spending our next date alone.”

“This was a date?” I was surprised.

“I certainly didn’t sleep on your mother’s couch for my health,” Landon said.