Page 34 of Warlocks Don't Win
Jessica sniffed. “I didn’t ask him to come check on me. I wasn’t doing anything interesting in the parlor.” She shot me a look and a slight smile. She’d definitely been poking around, but probably not in the parlor.
“That’s so comforting. Why did you take a traitorous actress with you?” Winston demanded, still glowering at me.
“I don’t control other people,” I said with a shrug, still dragging Jessica with me towards the front door. “Did you see where they keep the furniture polish?” I whispered in her ear.
She gave me a bright smile and then stopped to open a closet we were passing and handed me a bottle of the good stuff. I added it to the vodka in my bag.
“Clearly not controlling anyone,” Winston grumbled.
I frowned at him. “Why are you so grumpy? I’m the one who got shot.”
“You got shot?” Jessica squeaked, grabbing onto me and staring at me in horror. “You really are going to die.”
I rolled my eyes. “Between the two of you, the melodrama is definitely going to kill me. So a car?” I asked Winston.
“I’ll pay for the cab. I don’t have anyone to drive my car back.” He shot another glower at me like I’d intentionally set Jessica on the butler.
“I have a long term parking space, why don’t you?” Jessica said with the sneer of one-upmanship.
The way they disliked each other, the way he avoided looking at her, it was almost like they were ex-lovers. A shock of rage had me gripping Jessica too tight until she whimpered.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, letting her go. I couldn’t quite put Winston between us, not when he was everything a witch could possibly want. And not when they were acting so openly antagonistic. For two actors, didn’t that mean they were hiding something else? Maybe feelings of love? At least lust. Jessica could make almost anyone forget himself, as demonstrated by the butler. Not that it was any of my business except that I’d married Winston. Against his will. And mine. Hadn’t I?
When we left the house, at the end of the path and the front gate was Jordan, looking like a thunderstorm while he glared at Winston. Finally, someone who didn’t take their negative energy out on me! I almost liked him for a second.
“Mind if I join the party?” he asked, arms crossed over his chest. Come to think of it, those dimensions were almost as perfect as Winston’s. And Win’s chest had been so very bare on that dusty couch in the conservatory when I’d temporarily lost my mind.
Jessica hissed at Jordan. We were clearly feeling different things.
“Absolutely!” I beamed at him. “If you could drive us to the train station, that would be stellar.” Then I wouldn’t have to wait for a cab or pay for it.
Jessica and Winston scowled at me, equally betrayed, but by what, I had no clue. The world had gone mad the second I left Singsong City. Usually I was mad enough to keep up, but not this time.
The car ride was awkward, with Winston crowding into the backseat with me and Jessica, leaving Jordan to drive. Jessica spent the entire drive staring at the back of his head like she couldn’t help herself, while Winston frowned at my shoulder, like he could see the damage. There was no physical evidence that I’d experienced any trauma. It still throbbed though.
Worse than the pain was the feeling that the second Winston got me alone, he’d be trying to fix it, to heal it, and that would require his hands on my skin. I could already feel the weight of his touch, or maybe that was the memory of the kiss. Which one?
Finally, we were at the station, and got out, leaving Jordan behind.
“I don’t have my wallet,” Winston said as we stood in front of the flashing signs showing the schedule. They were words of betrayal if I’d ever heard them.
I stared at him, not understanding. “You mean, I need to pay for yours? Where’s Jordan?” He was part of Winston’s coven, so he should pay.
He hadn’t come inside with us. Jessica also gave me a fluttering of lashes. “I used up my last cash on the first ticket.”
This couldn’t be happening to me. Two movie stars and I had to pay? Me? The broke owner of a second-hand clothing shop? The injustice!
I slowly paid for their tickets while my shoulder throbbed along with my pocketbook. Also my heart. She’d tried to kill mewhen I’d honestly expected a warm welcome. I really was an idiot.
I straightened up. Warm welcomes were always a lie. At least her reaction was honest. And the curse was attached to my house.
One thing was certain. I vowed to make these two drama queens pay me back. With interest.
Chapter
Twelve
Isat crammed between Winston and Jessica for a very long hour, my shoulder throbbing more with every bumpy mile. Jessica only complained about the lack of leg room once. Winston sprawled into the aisle and didn’t complain at all, at least not verbally. The way he bumped against me every time he shifted, trying to stretch out in the narrow confines of our no-class seats spoke volumes. Still, I’d bought them tickets instead of leaving them together in Bosty.
