Luck of the Draw: Magic and Mayhem Universe (Lucky Magic) Page 9

  “Your magical juices are fully flowing,” Annabeth confirmed. “Go forth and grope your man. But maybe think positive, happy thoughts when you do it.”

  Positive, happy thoughts? Let’s see...where Don was concerned, that involved broom closets and car rides and even visits to Faery. Everything was better with Don, including confronting my biological, sword-wielding grandmother. Which reminded me... “Cricket, I have a package for you. I promised I’d deliver it, so don’t let me forget. It’s in the broom closet.”

  “Okay...but maybe focus a little harder on your honey right now.” Cricket tipped her head in Don’s direction, as if I wouldn’t know who she was talking about or had forgotten he was in the room. See? She really did seem a bit flaky at times. Like I could forget Don. Even completely stationary and bronzed, he dominated the small living room.

  Time to focus on my crush. No, that wasn’t fair. Don was more than a crush. He was a grown-up in all the most important ways, and I had grown-up feelings for him. Nascent feelings, yes, but they were definitely very grown-up ones.

  I sat next to Don on the sofa and pulled forth memories of the day we’d spent together. One gorgeous, adventure-filled, wonderful day.

  And with all of those just-on-the-cusp-of-something-wonderful feelings effervescing inside me like so much emotional champagne, I kissed my prince.

  Hey, my sister wasn’t the only romantic in the family.

  As I kissed him, the cold metal of Don’s lips warmed. His muscular arms wrapped around me, and before I could say “woken with a kiss,” I was sprawled in his lap having my breath stolen by the most fantastic of all kisses.

  Did I mention Don is an excellent kisser? And cuddler and hugger and ear-nibbler and—

  “Hey!” Cricket hollered. “Keep it PG-13, you two. I don’t need to see my sister’s ta-tas being fondled by a demon.”

  Don tucked my head under his chin. His deep voice vibrated through me as he replied, “I haven’t touched her below the neck, so you can just stop there. Cricket, I presume?” Cricket must have silently confirmed her identity, because Don’s voice cooled and he said, “Annabeth.”

  I felt his chin dip as he acknowledged his ex. I wouldn’t be cool, I’d be sub-zero if I had to chitchat with the person who’d zapped me into bronze.

  “Don, you’re looking much improved.” Annabeth’s voice held a distance it hadn’t before. “I like this new you. It suits you.”

  The fingers cupping the back of my head tensed, then relaxed. “There’s no newness to it. This is just me, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be open with you.”

  Interesting choice of words: that he couldn’t be open. Whatever Don had negotiated with Tobias back when they’d struck their deal, it hadn’t included telling his fiancée the truth, but it had included telling me.

  Maybe Don felt that same connection that I felt. Maybe he just knew that we were something to hang on to.

  Only time would tell, but for the first time ever, I was willing to give a man a chance. No, I was willing to give myself a chance—at happiness, at a future with someone I might well love.

  EPILOGUE

  One month later (Don)

  “It’s a first date, Don, not a wedding ceremony. Relax. It’ll be fine.” Michael Kelly sprawled in the comfortable armchair in the corner of the fitting room like he spent every day watching friends get fitted for a custom suit. No big deal.

  “You better be right.” Don didn’t do suits. Slacks and a dress shirt in a pinch, yes, but trying to find a suit that actually fit all his bulk without chafing, pinching, and straining at the seams had seemed an impossibility, or it had until Michael introduced him to his tailor.

  “No woman can resist her man in a well-made suit. It’s a known fact.” Michael rolled his eyes. “You’re worse than a teenage girl getting ready for her first prom.”

  “I’d like to have a second date, so yes, I’m nervous.”

  Michael laughed. “I think that’s a given. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but when you’re dating a woman, there are usually dates—plural—involved.”

  “I don’t like to assume. I won’t take Kayla for granted, because that’s not how you treat someone you love.”

  “Whoa. Did you just drop the big L-word?” Don glared in response, and Michael quickly changed tack. “Explain to me again how you’re dating a woman for a month and haven’t taken her out on a date yet.”

  Don shrugged. “I’ve tried. I keep asking, and she keeps telling me that she enjoys my company. That hanging out is enough for her, and that those are basically dates.”

  Michael looked skeptical. “What exactly do you do on these hangout non-dates?”

  Don shrugged and got a chiding look from the tailor. “We cook, do laundry, hike.”

  “Austin or Boise?”

  Did it matter? As long as they were spending time together, Don didn’t really care. And it wasn’t like geography was any kind of hindrance to a demon. He had ways of fiddling with the laws of physics that usually governed things like travel.

  “Well? Your place or hers?”

  The way Michael asked the question, Don suspected the answer might be important or mean something. “Austin, my place. I pick her up. Sometimes she brings her laundry—I guess the machines in her apartment building aren’t that great—and sometimes she brings groceries so we can cook.”

  “Don’t tell me: you have a nicer kitchen.” Michael gave him a pitying look, so Don definitely had missed something this last month.

  “I do have a nicer kitchen. My place is way nicer. And it’s been kinda cold in Boise. She likes the weather down here.”

  “Hm.”

  Don’s neck started to itch. “What does that mean—hm?”

  Michael ignored the question. “So what’s the big plan tonight? You taking her to a posh restaurant downtown?”

  “Excuse me, sir?” Don’s new tailor, Pablo, was an incredibly polite man. He hadn’t blinked at making a suit for a guy who could have easily been a linebacker for a pro football team—or a sword-wielding Viking from the ancient days of pillaging and looting. Don knew he couldn’t be easy to fit, let alone make dapper. “If you’ll have a look in the mirror? Just there.” He directed Don to the full-length mirror he’d been studiously avoiding.

  He shouldn’t have worried. Pablo knew his stuff. He’d managed to turn a caveman into a gentleman with a few swathes of finely cut and sewn cloth.

  “Pablo does exceptional work,” Michael commented.

  Don nodded his agreement and offered his hand to his new favorite tailor. “Thank you. I’m not sure how you managed it, but thank you.”

  “It was a delight. You, sir, are a delight to fit.”

  Don had his doubts about that, but there was no arguing the finished product had come out top-notch. “I’ll wear the suit out.”

  While Pablo disappeared to process the payment, Don sat down in the chair opposite Michael’s to put on his dress shoes. “We’re not going out downtown. We’re having a nice dinner in Boise, then pie with her Grandpa Tom and Grandmama, and then drinks with her friends at some fancy work function that she has to attend.”

  Michael’s eyebrows climbed so high he looked like a caricature of himself. “Friends, family, and fancy duds all in one night?”

  “Yeah. So?” Don stood to have one more look in the mirror. It didn’t seem possible he could actually be comfortable while wearing a suit. He kept thinking something was amiss: his fly undone, a split seam across his shoulders, something.

  “Give it a rest. You look presentable. Tell me more about this relationship checklist of an evening you’ve got planned.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  Michael laughed. “You really are clueless, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not the one who keeps getting my marriage proposals shot down. Exactly how many times have you asked Annabeth to marry you?”

  “Shut it. She loves me. She’s just a little ring-shy after that first dud fianc
é she picked up.”

  It amazed Don that he could chuckle about it. Dumped by the woman who was supposed to become his wife, weeks spent as a bronze statue and a bird’s toilet, but he wouldn’t change a thing.

  That bumpy (and odiferous) portion of his life yielded a treasure beyond value. Kayla was his very own happily ever after. He might not have known the instant he met her, but the moment she called him out on his faux-evil and menacing persona, he’d had a pretty good hunch.

  “I mean no disrespect, but I’m thankful every day that your girlfriend decided to dump and bronze me.”

  “Understood and agreed. Now, about this dating trifecta...”

  ANOTHER EPILOGUE

  Later that evening (Kayla)

  “Where did you find him, and can I have one too?” Cricket plopped down on my bed and watched me put the finishing touches on my makeup. I had about fifteen minutes before I needed to slip on the fancy dress we’d picked out together last weekend.

  “You know exactly where I found him, and you don’t need one.” I snorted, almost smearing the cat flick I was drawing on my left eyelid. “Like you’ve ever needed help finding a date.”

  A sad look flitted across Cricket’s face, gone so quickly I might have imagined it. “That’s right. I’m a dating ninja.”

  “Not that I’m anything less than completely convinced of Don’s awesomeness—”

  “He is the best boyfriend in the history of boyfriends.” The look on Cricket’s face—she was just so happy for me. And she was right.

  My vision blurred. Not that I was crying, because I wasn’t a crier. “He is so the best boyfriend. But what’s brought up the boyfriend envy all of a sudden? I thought you weren’t into committed relationships right now.”

  Cricket loved men. Men and dating. She dated a lot, but she tended not to go for repeats. More than three dates with one man was rare.

  “No, not at all. I’d love to be in a committed relationship. It’s just really hard to find that guy. The one who doesn’t go screaming when you introduce your family and your friends all in one night.” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh, yeah, I guess that is kind of a lot.” Oops. Really a lot. I couldn’t keep the sheepishness from my voice when I explained, “We’re not usually in Boise. He has a brand-new washer and dryer, a gorgeous view, and no noisy neighbors sharing an apartment wall. Actually, no neighbors sharing a wall at all, and we can be, um, you know—”

  “Loud. I get it.” Cricket rolled her eyes. “Please don’t rub my face in your uninhibited, athletic sex life.”

  “Those are your words, not mine.” I stepped into my dress and then fiddled with the spaghetti straps until they were untwisted and laid flat.

  “Hush. I said not to rub it in. I didn’t say to spoil any vicarious pleasure I might be experiencing. You better be having outstanding sex.” She zipped me without being asked, then smoothed her hand across the sleek back of the dress.

  “And outstanding sex is both uninhibited and athletic?” I couldn’t help asking—as if I didn’t have my own ideas of what constituted exceptional. My sister and I had definitely never discussed our sex lives before, even in generalities, so I was curious to see where she planned to take this conversation. When she refrained from replying, I steered the conversation back to her earlier revelation. “I didn’t realize you were ready for something more permanent.”

  “I like to think I’ve always kept an open mind—unlike some people—but it hasn’t happened for me. Either he gets the commitment willies and runs terrified for the hills, or I’m just not feeling it.” She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

  But we were talking about it, so it wasn’t nothing.

  “I have an open mind,” I protested. “Clearly.” I spun around, letting the skirt float around my legs. “Or I wouldn’t be having a date night with my demon boyfriend tonight.”

  Cricket broke into a wide, happy smile. “That’s right. Your fancy-dress, meet-the-family, meet-the-friends, all-in-one date night.”

  I should probably have been worried it was too much pressure, but I wasn’t. Not even a little, because I knew Don was just excited to spend time with me and be a part of my life.

  Because he really was the very best boyfriend in the world—for me.

  AND YET ANOTHER EPILOGUE

  That same night in Bandera, Texas (Patrick Kelly)

  “Did you get that hunk of metal married off?” Patrick Kelly joined Baba Yaga on the bench she’d claimed.

  Naturally, she’d popped in with all the pomp and circumstance she simply couldn’t refrain from exhibiting, bringing her vile purple smoke with her.

  He coughed discreetly and waved a wisp away from his face. He thanked his lucky stars Baba Yaga agreed to meet in the Bandera town square, the scene of her latest (so far as he knew) romantic meddling efforts. His lungs appreciated the avoidance of small, enclosed spaces when Baba Yaga was popping in and out.

  “All in good time, Patrick. They’ve only known each other a little over a month.” She drummed her fingers on the bench’s armrest. “Would you like to place wagers on who will be engaged first: your son Michael or his girlfriend’s ex-fiancé, that former hunk of metal?”

  Patrick had enough sense to know Baba Yaga would only bet on a sure thing. That hunk of metal must be proposing to his girl soon.

  “Humph. It’s that girl who’s the problem. He keeps asking, but the stars haven’t aligned perfectly, or the moon isn’t green and made of cheese.” His head hurt. These youngsters made everything so complicated. “They love each other. Isn’t that enough to tell them the time is right?”

  Her only response was an amused twitch of her lips.

  He knew he needed to give his eldest boy a little time to settle into the relatively new relationship, but didn’t the lovebirds realize they had important familial obligations to fill? “I’m ready for grandchildren.”

  Baba Yaga laughed. At him, not with him, he was sure. She was that sort of woman. When she’d reined in her mirth, she poked him in the ribs with a sharp elbow. “You do have three other children, don’t you?”

  Patrick smacked his knee. “Yes. Yes, I do. So what have you got in mind? Who’s next on the list? Thomas, James, or Stephen?” One of those boys was bound to do him proud. Was it so much to ask that they find a good woman, settle down, and provide him with enough kiddos for a rugby team? He didn’t think it was.

  But then Patrick Kelly got a good look at the scheming witch next to him. She looked far too satisfied.

  He narrowed his eyes, swallowed his pride, and asked, “What’s it gonna cost me?”

  “We can start with an apology—a proper apology, delivered with real feeling—for totaling my favorite car. If you convince me you mean it, I’ll not only give one of your boys a little romantic push, I won’t tell Brigid about the regular visits to Michael and Annabeth’s new place.” She arched her eyebrows. “About how you’re pressuring the happy couple to tie the knot...using your wife’s poor spirits as an excuse. Shame on you, telling them that planning a wedding would perk her up.”

  “You leave my darling wife out of this.” He glared at her. “Besides, a wedding would perk her up, and I’m only exaggerating a wee bit. She has been a little testy of late.” Mostly because her husband refused to stop harassing his kids to get married, but even so, his darling woman would adore the light and laughter a wedding would bring. She’d adore grandkids even more.

  But she’d kick his precious Irish rear if she found out he was fibbing to the kids. To Michael and Annabeth...but also to Livy and Jackson. Marriage, children—they needed to get on the ball.

  Patrick could see it now. He’d be spending the rest of this month and most of next on a too-short sofa, begging his wife’s forgiveness. Not that she didn’t give them the occasional nudge, but when she did it... He sighed. Maybe he did tend to lack subtlety. And it was in poor taste to use the children’s mother as leverage against them. Good thing Baba Yaga didn’t know about his little visit
s to Livy and Jackson.

  Digging deep, he pulled forth his sincerest, most heartfelt feelings of regret about the car incident.

  No. It wouldn’t do. He didn’t really have any.

  So he dug deeper, and he pulled forth his best, most charming, silver-tongued powers of persuasion. He would do as the kids said and “fake it till he made it.”

  With a solemn look, Patrick clasped Baba Yaga’s hand and said, “From the bottom of my heart, I am truly—”

  “Ha! I just can’t.” Baba Yaga yanked her hand free and wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “Buy me a new car”—she gave him a slightly terrifying look and pointed her finger at him—“same year, same model, and we’ll forget we had this conversation.”

  “And my boys?”

  “Ah, I’ve already put a few wheels in motion. As a favor to Brigid, naturally. I’d do anything for my dear friend.” And she disappeared in a puff of purple.

  That woman.

  She held a grudge longer than...well, longer than he did. And it had been a terrible car.

  THE LAST EPILOGUE...FOR NOW

  Later that night, at the end of the best first date ever (Kayla)

  “Did I pass the test?” Don whispered in my ear as we danced.

  “No test. How many times do I have to tell you that?” I kissed his cheek. “But my friends adore you.”

  We’d long since left my work event—where there’d been no test, but if there had been he’d have aced it—and were now at a tiny little bar with a jukebox. Oddly enough, I’d never been. Don had recommended it. We’d both wanted to wind down a little after being around so many people, but neither of us had been ready to go home.

  “Not even a whiff of the evil and menacing persona, huh?” He rubbed circles on my back as we slow-danced to some country song I didn’t recognize.