Sand Witches in the Hamptons (9781101597385) (15 page)

“Wait. Do you have any unexplained rashes?”

Unexplained? I believed I knew exactly where they came from. “No.”

She stepped closer, almost within Little Red's range. I stepped back. She put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses. “What's that on your upper lip?”

Damn, the rash was so faded I'd stopped putting on concealer. It didn't itch anymore, either, not since I decided to come back to Paumanok Harbor. I suspected the connection was not entirely coincidental, knowing how these things worked. Which I was not about to discuss it with this snarky, decidedly outsider scientist. “Must be beard burn. Isn't that right, sweetie?”

I batted my eyelashes at Harris. “You know, from before you shaved this morning.”

Ms. Garcia pursed her thin lips. Maybe she didn't know about beard burn.

Harris turned as pink as my hair, but he played along. “Sorry 'bout that, Cupcake.”

She turned away in disgust and shut down her handheld, without thinking to interrogate Sweetie. “We have enough samples to work with. We already took the water and air.”

“Did you check for ticks? They carry all kinds of diseases. Rashes, too. But you must know that. They're all over here, especially in those grasses you walked through.”

Ms. Garcia jerked her head yes. The student started brushing at his pants. They left.

I picked up the garbage and handed it to Harris. He ought to do something to make up for laughing at how I'd handled the interview.

“Not enough sleep last night, huh?”

I told him to go on ahead with the dogs.

As soon as his back was turned, I knelt down and sifted a handful of sand through my fingers, peering at it. It still looked like sand. No tiny warriors with shells for shields or pointy shark teeth for swords. No minuscule people cursing at me for moving the sand or littering the beach. I squinted, I peered, I put my face an inch away from the sand.

Harris had come back, bodyguarding. “What the devil are you doing, Pinky?”

“I wish you'd stop calling me that.”

“You like Cupcake better?”

I ignored him and fished a baggie from my pocket. I silently apologized to the Andanstans, if they were around, and promised to bring the sand back. I filled the baggie and sealed it up. I'd borrow a microscope from the school or a loupe from the local jeweler.

Harris shook his head. “How about Fruitcake?”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

I
had a mission. Matt had a microscope.

Harris didn't understand why I wanted to go home to drop the dogs off. “I thought we were going to check other beaches. Maybe go out in a boat to look at the shore from another angle.”

“There's a chop to the waves.” Maybe a ripple, but my stomach did not do well in rougher water than a Jacuzzi. “The dogs don't go on boats, if that's what I decide to do.” I held up the bag of sand. “First I want to look at this stuff up close. I know there's a microscope at the vet clinic. They check for worms all the time.” Yeck. “I'm sure they keep it sterile.”

Harris glanced at the bag. “You think you can find something the epidemics lady can't? She's got labs and scientists and the latest technology for testing something that sure looks like sand to me.”

“Yeah, they're not talking to me.”

Harris pulled as far away on the passenger seat as he could get from me, in case I sprouted horns and tail. “Please do not tell me you hear voices like Carinne. Lou should have warned me.”

“Not exactly.”

“How not exactly?”

Before I had to answer, we arrived back at the house. We bypassed the alarms, made sure the dogs had water and Susan still slept. Harris checked his monitors for anything suspicious, then we were off again. He wanted to take his car now that we had no dogs, and I let him. I was too nervous to argue, and Susan could sleep all day until time to go back to the restaurant.

I gave directions. And directed my heartbeat to stop fluttering. I needed to use the scope, that's all.

“Turn here.”

Matt's SUV sat in the parking lot at the animal hospital, so maybe they hadn't left yet. “Drive around back to Matt's house.” A black Lexus gleamed in the carport there.

I knocked on the door, but no one answered. We left the car at the house and walked back to the clinic.

“If you don't hear voices, how do you communicate with . . . with whatever you befriend? I know you're a Visualizer, but no one ever says what that means.”

“I draw pictures, like how you'd try to connect to someone who doesn't speak your language and hand signals won't work. You draw objects. The rest is hard to explain. Especially since I don't understand half of what goes on. I think they do all the work, if they choose to. These guys aren't choosing. But you never told me what you do.”

“Yes, I did. I'm a bodyguard.”

I stopped walking. “There's nothing unexplained about that. You could be in the Secret Service or some private security thing, not working with Lou and DUE.”

He picked up a small rock from the edge of the driveway. “Here, throw it at me.”

“No, I can't do that.”

“You have to, so you know how safe you are.”

I lobbed the rock at him, softly so he could catch it without getting hurt. He didn't try. Instead Harris stood still and let the rock come at him, but it fell short.

“Come on, Cupcake. You can do better than that. That was a girly throw.”

“I am a girl.”

“No, you're magic. So am I. So throw.”

I picked up a larger rock and threw it hard and straight. We were close enough that even a girly throw couldn't miss him. He wasn't ducking or dodging the way I expected. “Move! Move!” I yelled.

But the rock stopped within six inches of him and fell straight down to the ground. It dropped like . . . a rock. “Wow. Great trick. You must have been a star at dodge ball.”

“And football, where no one could tackle or tag me, until they banned me from Pee Wee League. I stank at tennis, though. The ball dropped before I could hit it back. DUE found me before I ran into real trouble, or someone made a video of me playing. I had no idea I was so different until then.”

We stopped outside the front of the animal hospital, which was closed. I thought about walking to the back door in case Matt was in the kennel area, checking on any overnight patients. First I pressed the doorbell. While we waited, I asked, “Have you ever met Piet Doorn?”

“The fire damp? Once. The guy's put out more fires than Smokey the Bear. If I had his range of protection, I could end wars.”

“At least save a ton of lives. He was incredible when we had an arsonist here in town.”

“I used to be jealous of him, until I saw all the scars and suffering. I'm content to keep one person safe at a time.”

“But your anti-projectile talent guards your own body. What good does that do the person in danger, like me?”

“Well, say some evil dude pulls a weapon. I disarm him, without worrying about bullets or knives or fists. So you're safe. But what if Colin senses danger, unspecified? Then I fall on you, protecting you with my body. Or grab you and shield your body with mine. Like this.”

He wrapped his arms around me. “Now you're in my circle of protection. Too bad we don't have anyone to throw rocks to prove it.”

He didn't move his arms. Now if this were a novel, I'd feel heat and a rush of hormones. I'd be vibrating with electricity and anticipation. I'd take a deep breath of his scent, man and something spicy, with a little bit of Canadian bacon, which was a good turn-on for a Sunday morning. Nice.

And then, if this were a paperback romance, I'd step a half inch closer and he'd step a half inch closer and our lips would meet and the ground would shake and the kiss would go on and on and on. I'd feel safe and protected, by a man who would put himself or his magic in front of a runaway train for me. I'd feel my nipples harden, I'd feel his arousal. I'd feel like we had to get closer, physically and emotionally. Lust and longing. I'd be smitten. If this were a novel.

It was my life. No smits, no heat, no vibrations or electricity. No nothing. The ground didn't shake, the angels didn't sing. They cursed. No, that was Matt, coming around the corner from the rear of the animal hospital.

Harris dropped his arms but stayed close to me. “I guess we'll see if the magic works on magic folks. He looks ready to kill one of us. Maybe both.”

“He'll be fine once I explain.”

Harris leaned toward me. “He doesn't seem in the mood to listen.”

He seemed ready to spit nails. “He'll be fine,” I repeated, less sure now.

“Good thing I didn't knock you to the ground with me on top, huh?” Harris whispered.

“You're not helping.” I jumped away from him, toward Matt. “It's not what you think. This is Harris, the bodyguard Lou sent. He's showing me how he'd protect me.”

Harris coughed. “Let's not get too deep into the workings.”

“It's all right. Matt has an aura.” I didn't mean Matt had a halo glow like the pseudo-psychics say every living being has. Around here an aura meant a gift of power recognizable on sight by a few like Vincent the barber. “He's one of us now. He has talent.”

“Matt has eyes in his head, damn it,” Matt said. “I didn't spot any lurkers in the bushes, drive-by shooters, or stalkers with decapitated rats.”

“I told you, he was demonstrating.”

“Demonstrating what, his seduction technique? It's a hell of a thing, bringing you here to play grab ass on my doorstep.”

“He never grabbed my ass! And I certainly never grabbed his. Yours is the only—That is, nothing happened.”

He looked at Harris, who held both hands up in surrender. “Not even a quick feel.”

Matt said, “Excuse us,” to Harris, took my hand and pulled me, none too gently, inside the unlocked door to the waiting room.

“Hey, will she be safe?”

Matt slammed the door in his face.

The place was the quietest I've ever seen it. You couldn't even hear a dog barking in the back area. You couldn't hear anything but our breathing as Matt and I looked at each other. He was angry at what he'd seen. I was angry he didn't believe me, didn't trust me. Then again, I'd been thoroughly pissed about his ex-wife visiting, no matter what he said about separate bedrooms.

Then the heat of anger changed into the heat of the moment. I don't know who made the first move, but we were in each other's arms, chest to chest.

“Oh, God, I've missed you. And I got sick thinking of some crazy woman threatening you.”

“Me, too,” I said, inhaling the distinctive Matt aroma, him, his cologne, dog, and a tiny bit of disinfectant. People think disinfectant isn't sexy. What do they know? I reached up to feel his soft brown curls, his smooth cheek, his perfect ears. “Me, too.” This time I whispered into one. And felt his body shiver.

He pulled me closer still, with only our clothes between us. I was already pulling his shirt out of his bulging jeans.

“No, we can't.”

“Harris won't mind. If we hurry.” I figured he'd burst through the door in five minutes if I didn't come out. Five minutes ought to work, if we lasted that long. I looked around. An old leather bench for clients stretched against the wall. That worked for me.

“Your hired gun won't mind. Marion will.”

Talk about a cold shower. This one rained sleet. I stepped back. “Where is dear Marion?”

“Getting ready to be seen in the Hamptons. I forgot how long she needs to prepare to face the day. Or how much hot water she uses up. Or how she's impossible before she has coffee. Fancy gourmet, safe trade stuff.”

“Sounds like you two ought to get a divorce.”

He laughed. “We did that. I just forgot what a good idea it was.”

“I thought she left you for someone else. Where is he?”

“She left, with my blessings, but the guy is long gone. So is the one after, and the one after that. That's why she had no one to leave the dog with. She still doesn't. Beau isn't nearly as friendly as he used to be, thanks to her keeping him in the house all day, never seeing anyone else. In return, Moses doesn't like Beau getting anywhere near me. I'd have to keep them in separate rooms, or crated, which wouldn't be fair to either of them.”

I couldn't blame Moses. I didn't like Marion anywhere near Matt, either. I hated the woman and I'd never met her. Maybe she wasn't so bad now though, now that Matt didn't seem hung up on her. Nobly, I told him we better go find her.

Not quite as nobly, but far more satisfying, he said we had three minutes more. And he kissed me. I still felt protected in a man's strong arms, but I felt wanted and needed and cherished and wanting some more. This time all the bells and whistles went off, the angels did sing, and the ground did tremble.

No, that was Moses, the Newfoundland pup, pushing his way into the waiting room, from the kennel area. He dashed between us, drooling on my shoes, wagging his tail hard enough to knock me over if Matt hadn't held me up, and whining to tell me how much he'd missed me, too.

I bent down, but not all that far because he'd grown another inch or five since I'd seen him, and kissed his sweet spot, right above the nose.

“Hey, what about me?”

So I kissed Matt on the nose, which led to a longer kiss, with tongues and moans and stroking hands and a hard weight against my belly. I'd missed this, too. Not so much the hard weight against the back of my legs, pinning me to Matt with a hundred pounds of dog that wanted to keep us together. Good dog, Moses. And he liked Little Red.

“Well, I guess that answers my question.” A beautiful red-haired woman stood in the waiting room doorway, Harris behind her, looking sheepish because he couldn't protect me from her. Daggers maybe; daggered looks, no.

Matt made the introductions. He shook hands with Harris. I did not shake hands with Marion. She did not offer. “Um, what question was that, Marion?”

“Whether there was a chance of us getting back together.”

“No,” Matt answered.

“No,” I seconded.

She turned to Harris. “You have an opinion, handsome?”

“Yeah, I'm fond of my privates, so I'll wait outside. Call if you need me, Willow.”

“I'll be right out. They need to get going.”

Marion was staring at my hair. “There's no hurry. But tell me, uh, Willy, is it?”

Which she knew damn well it was. “Is pink the new fashion statement in this funny little town?”

Paumanok Harbor was dead serious, not funny at all. And if she meant weird, which it was, that had nothing to do with her. She could just leave. I wished she would, so I said, “No, but pink is all the thing in the big city. I live there, you know.”

“Do you?” As if I lived under a storm drain. “I visited Manhattan last month and the only persons over sixteen I saw with hair that shade were picketing for gay marriage.”

“Oh, were you in that march?” Unworthy, I knew, but I hated her condescension.

Before she could meow back, Matt said he liked it.

“Gay marriage?”

“That's fine with me, but I meant Willy's hair. It reminds me of special sunsets over the bay here, where the horizon turns just that soft shade for an instant before the sun disappears entirely. And it's perfect with her sky-blue eyes. Besides, it's creative, like Willy, and full of life and spirit and independent thinking. Just like her.”

Marion looked like she could cry—or puke—but me? I grinned from the inside out. I floated, I swooped, I didn't think of admitting the pink hair was an accident. It was a stroke of genius, a Picasso of hair color, a statement. I was special.

Then Matt winked at me. Okay, it was a mistake, but he'd stood up for me. I was still special to him, even if I didn't look like a sunset, but a baby shower run amok. He didn't let any former wife and lover send nasty digs my way. Matt mightn't be able to keep me from getting shot, like Harris, but this protection meant a whole lot more. I was safe, in my heart where it mattered.