Page 31 of Love's a Witch
“Seems there’s a touch of a protest for the MacGregors being back in town. What can I do you for?”
“Just an Irn Bru. I’m driving.”
Liam nodded and bent to a small fridge behind the bar, and pulled out an orange-and-silver can. “Glass?”
“No, thanks.”
Liam’s attention shifted, and I glanced over to see Raven walking toward the dance floor in a shimmering slip dress that hugged every decadent curve of her body, an open wool coat thrown over her shoulders. Her hair streamed behind her, and Liam swallowed.
“Ask her out,” I said. Liam had been nursing a crush on Raven for years now.
“Can’t. You know that.” Liam had made a promise to Raven’s father that he’d look after her after he passed. They’d been neighbors, and Liam took his vow seriously. I couldn’t help but wonder if Raven’s dad would have been more than happy with Liam looking after his daughter as her partner, but Liam refused to speak about it. Instead, he just silently punished himself by pining for her day after day.
“All right, we’re ready to start. Does everyone know the Flying Scotsman?”
The singer’s voice carried over the microphone from the back room, and I straightened.
“Going in?” Liam asked.
“Aye.”
“That’s an odd way of kicking the MacGregors out,” Liam observed, a corner of his lips quirking up. “Going to Sloane’s birthday party and all.”
“What do you want me to do? Haul ’em over my shoulder and toss ’em out on their bums?”
“Maybe.” Liam nodded toward the windows. “If that keeps up, I reckon business will dry up. People outside Briarhaven will start asking questions. Only so long you can explain away the snow as a freak early autumn snowstorm.”
“I’m working on it,” I muttered.
“See that you do.” Liam tapped two fingers on the bar and went to serve other customers, and I sighed.
That was the life of a provost.
I wandered back into the birthday celebration, wondering how I was going to solve the puzzle of the MacGregors. The only answer was to run them out of town. I could see no other solution for protecting the people of Briarhaven from their curse. While it wasn’t the MacGregors’ fault that their bloodline was cursed, their neighbors shouldn’t also have to bear the brunt of it. Since they wouldn’t listen to reason, I was going to have to up my ante and go all in on forcing them to leave.
My breath caught as I spied Sloane in the middle of the dance floor, a ring of women around her. It felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, caught between awe and the sweet terror of falling.
Her beauty illuminated the room.
A silky dress in siren red slipped over her generous curves, her lips painted a matching scarlet. My fingers dug into my palms. Hers was a body made for touching. All dips and valleys, soft curves and strong legs, a gorgeous bum that begged for me to take a bite. Her belly curved, supple and round beneath the silk, and her ample breasts shifted under the dress as she turned and caught me staring.
Sloane blanched visibly and looked away, but not before I caught… something… in her expression. Something that had my blood heating and me striding across the dance floor to examine it more closely.
Because just for a moment, I thought I’d seen interest flicker across her gorgeous face.
The dance started, the singer calling out the steps. I closed the distance between us and hooked an arm through Sloane’s before she could stop me.
“Happy birthday,” I said as I pulled her to the side, getting into formation with the other dancers. “It’s a good thing it’s not too bright in here, as your beauty lights the room.”
Sloane slanted me a suspicious look, and I let her go, as the few men there lined up across from the women. The singer counted off the steps, and I almost swallowed my tongue as Sloane began to bounce in time to the music.
Everything bounced along with her.
Her body shifted under the silk, and desire shot through me. Grateful for my sporran, to hide the tinges of lust that would soon be visible, I focused on the dance as we wove our way between the other line, and then I reached for Sloane’s hands to dance down the middle of the row. Music chimed, and people danced around us, but everything faded except for Sloane and her moody, suspicious eyes.
“Why are you being nice to me?” Sloane asked, her voice a bit breathless.
“It’s your birthday. Aren’t those the rules?”
