Witch Way Around Read online

  And I couldn’t stop looking at the rapidly stiffening shaft jutting from a nest of hair the same cinnamon brown as that on his head.

  “My eyes are up here,” he said, cupping my chin and bringing my face up to meet his gaze, completing my humiliation.

  Shifters, from my limited experience, had no issue with nudity, while many witches—me—reserved that state for ceremonial events. But Kit Wilde showed his shifter self by gathering me in his arms and carrying me down the stairs to the living room, followed by our audience. To my great relief, Karina shooed the rest away, even or maybe especially the naked tiger distracting everyone, sending Tinsley for her healing kit and then settling by my feet on the sofa.

  She lifted the injured ankle gently into her lap and tested it, bending it this way and that and asking me if it hurt.

  It did. A lot.

  Karina knew what to do, though, and after applying a salve of calendula, lavender, and I thought maybe myrrh, held her open palms over the injury and chanted a spell.

  From here to there and back to here

  An ankle swells beneath her

  A tiger tripped my cousin dear

  And it is mine to heal her.

  I blinked up at her, startled. “That doesn’t sound anything like Grandmother’s spells, or any of the aunts’. Not a word of Gaelic, Latin, or any of the dead or nearly dead languages.”

  “Nope, not a one.” She shrugged. “Nor did I put any entrails or eyes of amphibians in the salve. It’s the intent that matters, I’ve found. Maybe because I came upon my magic so late, I just never learned how do to it properly.”

  I flexed my ankle, testing. “I don’t know about that. It’s hardly even sore by now and I don’t think calendula works that fast. So it was definitely your magic. Although that was the most pathetic attempt at rhyming.”

  “Yeah, I know, but as long as it works. I’m an innkeeper and not a poet. It’s the intent that matters rather than the actual words or ingredients, I think.” She straightened from bending over my leg and flipped her hair out of her eyes. “Maybe we late bloomers have the right idea.”

  “Thanks for including me in that but there is no sign of any kind of blooming on my part. The few spells I do are written in stone, or at least in most books of shadows and I think only work because I follow them to the letter.”

  She massaged the salve into the skin, its gentle, pleasant fragrance relaxing me almost as much as her touch. “Or maybe you have more talent than you think and just need a dose of confidence.”

  I leaned back into the deep cushions and felt the last of the pain ebbing from my ankle and foot. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s because of my dad, whoever he was. Maybe he wasn’t a witch, and that’s why they didn’t stay a couple when she got pregnant. And why she never told anyone who he was.”

  Karina set my leg back on the pillow and stood. “I have to help Tinsley get breakfast started, so why don’t you just relax here for a bit and not think about things you have no control over. Whatever anyone says, you create magical gardens. I’ve seen the pictures and heard it all over the place. So you’ve got gifts, and who says they have to be identical to anyone else’s?”

  As she walked away, I called her back. “Thank you, Cousin. I am still not sure I have much to offer, but I do love my gardens. I at least feel as if I have an affinity for putting them together in the way most beneficial for the owners and all the smaller beings who dwell in them or pass through. Ladybugs and butterflies. Bees and birds. So many kinds of insects.”

  She nodded. “And nymphs and dryads and gnomes and all the fair folk. All their ilk.”

  “Right. A garden is where the natural and supernatural come together. I think it’s how it was always intended really. Why do the people with and without magic have to be separate? Aren’t we all the children of Gaia? Just each a little different.” I flushed, embarrassed at my uncharacteristically long speech. “At least so it seems to me.”

  Karina came back over and pressed a kiss on my forehead. “Just stop worrying. There is nobody just like you, and nobody who can do what you do. Let the aunties and all the other old-school witches do things their way, it’s fine. But not one of those old biddies can create a space for beauty like you do.”

  A slow clapping preceded the entry of Kit Wilde, no-longer-naked tiger shifter. “Brava, innkeeper. And you as well, lovely Angie. Very well said.” Passing Karina, he sat down on the end of the sofa she’d vacated. “I came to see how badly I damaged you. I hope you didn’t break anything?”

  Those golden eyes were nearly the same in both forms, a dull gleam that reflected the light in a most disconcerting way. His lashes were lighter than his hair and so was the scruff on his jaw, more like the golden color of his tiger. I’d never met a tiger shifter before. As I understood it, they tended to stay on their lands where they could roam freely, most in the plains states, one or two groups in Nevada and the California Mojave desert. Western Canada had a few but most preferred warmer climates.

  If they all exuded this level of charisma, it was lucky they stayed home. Women would be ripping their clothes off and flinging themselves at their feet everywhere they went. I let my gaze glide down his body, those shoulders now swathed in a T-shirt that could have been painted on. His nipples hardened under my scrutiny, giving me a feeling of power unlike any I’d experienced. His waist was trim, his hips narrow, and the bulge in his tight jeans left little to the imagination. I’d never thought much about a man’s thighs, but as he pulled my sore ankle onto his lap and began to caress, I couldn’t imagine anything hotter than the muscles flexing under my heel.

  “Am I hurting you?” Kit’s deep rumble cut through the overly excited thoughts fluttering through my brain. His fingers stilled.

  “Oh no,” I assured. “It’s almost all better. Karina did her magic.” And now he was doing an entirely different kind that just had me hoping not to leave a damp spot on the couch. I’d read about women soaking through their panties when a man laid his hands on her but always wrote it off as a literary device, an exaggeration.

  Turned out I was wrong.

  “It isn’t very swollen,” he said, increasing his massage to include from my knee to my toes. He worked each little muscle on the injured leg then set the other next to it and repeated the process. “If not for the salve on the one, I’d be hard-pressed to tell.”

  “And the bruise,” I told him, reaching down to point to it and feeling immediately terrible when his eyes saddened. “But it’s fading, too,” I rushed to say. Damn, why did I just have to keep talking and making things worse? It was embarrassing enough I’d found him asleep in the hall. He must have overindulged in the beers, maybe snuck down and had more? Or something harder? “Umm, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to but…”

  He arched a brow. “Ask me anything. I’m an open book.”

  Chapter Six

  Kit

  I’m an open book.

  What kind of an idiot left themselves in a position like that? She could ask anything, and while I didn’t have a lot of secrets, we’d only known one another’s names for a short time. Surely there should be boundaries between near strangers.

  Not between mates, put in my tiger ever so helpfully.

  She is a witch, not our mate.

  Mate.

  There was no arguing with the beast. So I stopped trying.

  “I just wanted to ask why you were sleeping in my doorway this morning? I mean, if you had too much to drink or something. Really, it’s none of my business, and I’m sorry for asking.”

  Tell our mate we were protecting her.

  “Oh, nothing like that. It’s just sometimes the tiger likes to curl up in spots he for reasons of his own finds comfortable.”

  Not only lame but you are lying to our mate. He ended on a growl.

  “I beg your pardon?” she asked.

  “Huh?”

  Karina came sweeping back in holding a tray. “I b
rought you both some coffee and sweet rolls. I can do a full breakfast if you like or you can grab a bite in town at the diner. It’s got chicken-fried steaks the size of a platter and the crispiest home fries on this side of the Mississippi.” She set her burden down and went about filling cups and handing them to us. “There’s cream and sugar…so what do you think?”

  I took the cup and waved away the additives. “About what?”

  “Taking Angie to breakfast. I think if you go now, you’ll have time to run her errands first and then she can bring the van back.”

  The sweet rolls smelled of cinnamon and butter and toasted pecans, so I picked one up with a napkin and handed it to Angie before replying. “That would be fine but I already arranged for the shuttle to pick me up. I didn’t realize Angie was even going to town today.”

  “How could you have?” she asked, pulling her feet back and settling them on the floor. “We only spoke a few minutes at dinner last night, after all.”

  Didn’t that seem odd? I felt as if I’d known her forever.

  “The shuttle can probably take us both, if you can make arrangements to get back,” I offered. “I’ll be at the fairgrounds late.”

  Karina, who had managed to disappear yet again, reappeared with a purse and light hoodie in hand. “I already canceled the shuttle for this morning. I hope that was okay. Since Angie was going to visit the nursery in town anyway, I thought I’d save Randy the trip up the hill.”

  They had an odd definition of hills here.

  “I don’t want to impose,” I said at the same time Angie asked, “Did I mention the nursery?”

  But the innkeeper was never slowed. “Now, Kit, you stand up and see if you can help Angie with these.” She held out worn Converse sneakers. “I think the ankle is still a little tender for boots, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know…maybe,” Angie said, reaching for the shoes, but Karina shoved them into my hands and, spurred by my tiger’s determination to make a good impression on our mate, I knelt in front of her.

  “Socks first?” I asked, but she shook her head.

  “I only wear them with the boots, if you’ll just untie the laces I should be able to push my feet in.” She wrinkled her nose and I caught sight of a spray of pale freckles across the bridge. Adorable.

  “Please let me be a gentleman and help you,” I said in a low voice. “I don’t want to get in any trouble here. I like the cinnamon rolls.”

  Despite her flushed cheeks, she obediently held out a foot and allowed me to slip it into the shoe and tie the laces. The classic black-and-white converse looked as if it had many miles on it, comfortable and friendly. I took care of the other one and assisted her to her feet. “Does it hurt?”

  She flexed her foot right and left and added more weight until she stood normally. “Only a very little bit.”

  Karina nodded in satisfaction and pressed a set of keys into my hand. “Just as I’d hoped. Now, here are the keys to the van, and I don’t need it at all today, so stay as long as you like.” She ushered us toward the door, chattering away. It seemed I was to drive down so that Angie’s ankle had a while longer to heal then go with her to the nursery and buy her breakfast before going to the fairgrounds.

  When we descended the front steps, we found the van with Witch Way Inn emblazoned on the side, parked right outside. It had a rather psychedelic color scheme of blues and reds and greens and everything but flames. Or so I thought until I had helped Angie into the passenger seat and moved around to the driver’s side. The flames were there, shooting out of the back of a broomstick on which rode a witch who resembled our innkeeper almost exactly. Chuckling, I climbed in behind the wheel and fastened my seat belt. “Ready to go to town?”

  “Do we have a choice?”

  I turned the key, bringing the engine roaring to life and was just about to shift into gear when I heard, “Wait for us!”

  The back door slid open to reveal the wolf shifters from the night before. “Karina told us she canceled the shuttle to town. We could shift and run but thought naked might be a bad look for a job interview.” Wolf two settled in the seat. “I’m Garwin and this is my brother Glenn.” He laughed as his brother joined him. “I realize we never exchanged names.”

  “I didn’t promise an interview,” I warned them as I drove out onto the road, less than pleased to have to share Angie’s company. “Just that you could apply.”

  “Can we mention that we know you?” Glenn asked, still growly but a little more human this morning.

  “Do you even know my name?” I asked, beginning to navigate the winding switchbacks along the hill.

  The rest of the ride progressed smoothly, the wolves behaving themselves and asking questions about the carnival, where it had traveled, what the living conditions were like, and not hitting on Angie. It seemed they’d taken my words to heart although when we dropped them off at the fairgrounds, Garwin, formerly wolf two, leaned in my window to say, “You didn’t have to sleep in the hallway. Neither of us wants to wrestle a tiger, you know.”

  And then, at long last, we were alone.

  “What do you think, Angie?” I asked. “Nursery first as our fearless leader suggested or breakfast?”

  A smile lit up her face and brought out a dimple in her cheek. “Let’s rebel and go to that diner. Do you think the chicken-fried steak is really that big?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  With the fair starting later that day, this was probably the only chance we’d have to eat in the place, too. Carnies were fast to find the best cheap eats in town—almost always the diner—to break up the cheap diet of much less-yummy meals in the dining tent. But to my dismay, there were already quite a few of my people crowded into the joint and no available tables. While we stood in the doorway and tried to decide what to do, Stan stood up from his place way back in a corner booth and waved. “Hey, Kit, over here. We can squeeze you and your friend in, can’t we, guys?”

  “Are you up for this,” I asked her in a low voice.

  “I don’t want to offend your friends,” she replied, giving them a little wave and heading for the group. A couple of the people on the end stood so we could slide in and sit ten in a booth probably made for six.

  The others had already ordered, but a harried waitress stopped by long enough to take our order for two more of what everyone was having, and in about fifteen minutes the table was laden with at least half a steer’s worth of beef on one giant platter and enough home fries to well represent the state of Idaho. “We serve groups of six or more home-style,” she explained, handing out plates. “So go to it, boys and girls, and I’ll be back with eggs and toast.”

  I couldn’t imagine where she’d put them, but as usual my coworkers were making all the food disappear, so it all worked out. And while I’d been a little concerned about Angie getting her share in all the flying elbows or getting stabbed with a knife, she held her own, maybe even ate more than her share while managing to look like a delicate eater.

  Before we left the place, Stan and all the others at the table had invited her to opening night, not taking no for an answer until she agreed. They had also told her far too many stories about me I’d have preferred they not, making me sound like a cross between an alcoholic, a straw boss, and a klutz.

  I took her hand to extricate her from the booth when the last of the food had been cleared away and the bill paid. My friends, maybe to make up for their devastation of my character, had insisted on paying our share.

  And I let them.

  I didn’t however let go of Angie’s hand and she didn’t ask me to. We strolled out to the van and I drove her to the nursery and sat on a bench in the sun, letting my tiger bask while Angie strolled around with an elderly man wearing a big sun hat who had introduced himself to us as the owner and a certified master gardener. He led her from bed to bed, pointing things out and making notes on a list as she told him what she wanted delivered to the inn. It seemed like a
lot, but I had no idea what made a garden bloom and was just happy to be outside in the high desert sun. So many of the plants seemed tiny, but she approached each one with such joy, it made my heart lift and the tiger’s purr vibrate my shirt. After she’d worked her way through the greenhouse and outside beds with the nursery owner, she came back to me and reached out a hand. “Okay, that’s my job for the day. Let’s go to yours.”

  Despite the fact my helpful co-workers had convinced her to stay in town for the day and attend the show, I wasn’t sure she really wanted to do that. “Angie, I’ll be busy all afternoon just getting everything ready for the opening. You’ll be so bored. Wouldn’t you rather go up to the inn and come back later or even see the show another day? I have a little more flexibility after the first show.”

  “No way!” she said, flashing me a dimpled smile. “And miss more of the antics I heard about during breakfast? You seem like such a together guy I had no idea.”

  “Exaggeration will do that to a story.” I pulled into the fairgrounds in the back lot near the mobile office and other trailers. “If you’re sure, you can shadow me, but anytime you want to leave, just say the word and I will understand. Honestly it’s not that exciting to watch me check on the tightness of screws and ask people if they did their jobs.”

  “Well you might break out in song or trip over a clown. You never know!” She slipped an arm through mine and squeezed. “I’ve always wanted to run away with the circus.”

  See? She wants to run away with us, my tiger crowed.

  She didn’t say that. Just that like all kids, she thought of running away with the circus. Just most don’t actually do it.

  Yeah well, we did. Maybe she will, too.

  “Kit?” Angie was craning her neck right and left. “It sure looks ready to go. What’s left to do?”

  “Far more than you’d think,” I said, stopping by the HR office. “But I want to see what happened with the wolves. Want to come in or wait outside?”