Witchdependence Day: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short (Wicked Witches of the Midwest Shorts Book 8) (4 page)

I barked out a laugh and leaned over to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Your secret is safe with me. One Mr. Paws coming up.”

“
I
think he looks dignified
, don’t you?”

Thistle happily snuggled her stuffed dog as we walked back to the stable shortly after dark. The air was moist and warm, almost oppressive. I could feel the oncoming storm building.

I glanced at the dog, his silly button eyes pointed directly at me, and smiled. “He definitely looks dignified,” I said. “His hat makes him look like an elder statesman, or perhaps a duke.”

Thistle snorted. “Thank you for winning him for me.” I knew she was serious because she lowered her voice. When you date a blowhard, you learn to read the signs.

“You’re very welcome,” I said, gripping her hand as she slipped it into mine. “What did you think of the octopus Landon won for Bay?”

“It was not dignified,” Thistle said. “He was kind of cute, though.”

“And the panda bear Sam won for Clove?”

It was a silly conversation, but once Thistle is away from her cousins her internal sweetness always comes out to play. That’s my favorite part of the day.

“I saw Landon pay the guy off to make sure Sam won that panda,” Thistle said. “You were trying to distract us when he was doing it, but I saw. I knew when you had your heads together while watching Sam throw darts – and miss everything he aimed at, mind you – that you would do something to help him.”

“There must be something wrong with his hand-eye coordination,” I mused. “I’ve never seen anyone with poorer aim.”

“It was still sweet,” Thistle said. “Clove would’ve been heartbroken if we got stuffed animals and she didn’t, and Sam would’ve gone broke trying to win her one.”

“Yeah, I like how Landon flashed his badge and warned the game guy that he would shut him down if he didn’t make sure Sam won an animal,” I said, smiling at the memory. “He makes me laugh.”

“You guys have grown pretty close,” Thistle said, watching as I unlocked the stable. “I’m glad.”

“I’m glad, too,” I said, ushering her inside. “I wasn’t sure I would like him when we first met, but I think he’s good for Bay. I also think he’s good for this family because he’s willing to protect all of the people – and their multitude of secrets – with his life.”

“I didn’t like him when we first met him either, but that was because I thought he was going to break Bay’s heart,” Thistle admitted, moving toward the ladder to the loft. We’d carried the blankets up for safekeeping before leaving for the festival. Thistle didn’t want to risk getting them wet in case we had to race back in the middle of a storm. “Now I know he’ll never purposely break her heart, and I like him.”

“What did you think when you first met me?” I asked, grabbing the dog before Thistle could climb the rungs. “I’ll carry Mr. Paws. He’s big and I don’t want you to trip.”

“You’re such a strong protector,” Thistle teased, beginning her ascent. I knew she was bargaining for time because she didn’t want to answer the question.

“Tell me what you thought of me,” I prodded. “I can take it.”

“Well, if you must know, I thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever met,” Thistle admitted.

Unabashed love washed over me. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I also thought you were kind of a goof.”

“That’s … fine,” I said, frowning. “How was I a goof?”

“You just kept tripping over yourself whenever I came into the stable to buy feed for animals we didn’t have,” Thistle replied, cresting the top of the ladder and disappearing from view. “I thought maybe you were a little slow or something.”

I chuckled, memories of our first few meetings pushing to the forefront. “That’s because I was nervous,” I explained, handing her the stuffed dog as I finished my climb. “I knew I liked you, but I was completely out of my element. I wanted to ask you out but was afraid you would turn me down.”

“I didn’t turn you down.”

“No, but I thought you might,” I said, rubbing my finger over her forehead. The moon, which was almost completely obscured by the incoming storm clouds, managed to cast a green pall over her face, giving her an unearthly appeal. “I thought you were bohemian, brilliant and utterly terrifying.”

“I am,” Thistle said, grinning. “What do you think about me now?”

“I’m pretty sure the sun rises and sets on your smile.”

“Ugh. You’re so romantic it kills me,” Thistle groused.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I teased, planting a soft kiss on her mouth before turning to study the stack of blankets. “We should get everything ready before the storm hits. Then you can tell me about your decorating plans while we wait.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Thistle said, happily grabbing a blanket and shaking it out. I grabbed one end and she took the other, following the effort with two more blankets before grabbing a fourth to cover us.

“That’s weird,” Thistle said, scanning the darkening loft. “I could’ve sworn I brought another blanket.”

I followed her gaze but came up short. “I don’t see one. Are you sure?”

“I … .” Thistle snapped her mouth shut and shrugged. “I guess not. I probably left it on the couch back at the guesthouse. It’s okay. We should be plenty comfortable.”

We settled under the blanket, Thistle grabbing her catalog and resting her head on my shoulder as she got comfortable.

“I can’t really see that catalog,” I said. “It’s too dark.”

“That’s okay. I can show it to you in the morning.”

Thistle gets a bad rap from her family for being difficult to deal with. That’s only true when she’s around them. When she’s around me, I never have issues.

“Tell me about your decorating plans,” I prodded, tracing lazy circles on the back of her neck as she got comfortable. “What do you want to do with this place?”

“I’m a little worried you’re going to think I’m taking over your project,” Thistle admitted. “If I overstep my bounds, you need to tell me.”

“I’ll tell you,” I said. “I still want to hear what you have in mind. You have a knack for this sort of thing.”

“I do,” Thistle agreed. Her ego was big, and sometimes out of control, but she could almost always back it up. “I was thinking you could expand to the front and back, and put display windows in the front. You have a lot of old riding tack, and we could set it up in scary scenes, as if we have ghost cowboys.”

I chuckled, delighted with the idea. “How would we do that?”

“Oh, I can rig it with wire and paint really cool backdrops,” Thistle offered. “No one would be able to see the wires and we could change out the backdrops every four months or so. We could do a different one for every season.”

“That sounds like a lot of work for you,” I said. “Are you willing to sign on for something like that?”

“I would love it,” Thistle replied. “I love painting. I love decorating. I would spend every hour of every day doing it if I could.”

“It would probably be easier if you were … closer … when it came time to do it,” I said, momentarily worrying now was not the time to broach the subject of us moving in together. I knew it would eventually happen. The barn transformation was still months away, though. I was hoping to be living in it by Christmas. Still, even if it was early, I wanted to lay the groundwork. Thistle sometimes needed time to ponder a suggestion before embracing it.

“Maybe,” Thistle said, licking her lips. “We have time to talk about that later, though.”

That was an obvious sign she wasn’t ready to discuss potential living arrangement changes just yet. I decided to follow her lead.

“You’re going to help decorate Sam’s new ship, right?” I asked, shifting the topic to something I knew she would be happy to discuss. “That will take up some of your time. When is he getting that, by the way?”

“It’s not due to be delivered for another few weeks,” Thistle replied. “I’m looking forward to decorating that, too. I have some outstanding ideas for ghost pirates. Ahoy, matey, I’m going to eat your guts for dinner!”

I laughed at her imitation of a pirate. “That sounds cool,” I said. “I promised to help with any construction he needs.”

“How are you going to do that and get everything handled here?”

“It will all work out,” I replied. “I’m not doing the actual construction here so I can schedule time to help Sam between rides and taking care of the horses. I know he wants to have the boat up and running for Halloween, and I think it’s going to be a cool draw.

“There are a lot of nautically-minded people in Michigan,” I continued. “A haunted pirate attraction will draw more people to Hemlock Cove, and that can only help the rest of us.”

“You have an incredibly pragmatic mind,” Thistle said, brushing her lips against my chin. “I love you, Marcus.”

I worried the first time I admitted I loved her she wouldn’t say it back. She’d been surprisingly giving with the words – and emotions attached to them. “I love you, too.”

“We’ll talk about the other stuff when it gets closer,” Thistle said. “I just … later. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine.” I meant it. I’m a firm believer that things happen when they’re supposed to, and you can’t force destiny’s timetable.

As if on cue, the storm picked that moment to arrive and the sky split with a terrifying bolt of lightning. We picked a spot far enough away from the loft hatch that we wouldn’t get wet yet could still hear the storm as it rattled the stable’s wallboards and watch it through the open hatch.

Beneath us I could hear a few of the horses shift in their stalls. The noise was somehow soothing, their presence relaxing.

“It’s here,” Thistle whispered breathlessly. “It’s supposed to be a big one.”

“What is it with you and storms?” I asked, genuinely curious. “You’re always excited and want to watch when one hits.”

“I just like them,” Thistle replied. “They remind me that there’s something bigger out there.”

“Like what?”

“Power. Magic. Destruction.”

It was a fairly profound statement from an entirely bewitching woman. “Well, relax,” I said, pressing her head to my chest as we turned our eyes to the window. “I think we’re in for one heck of a show.”

“I think we’re in for one heck of a life,” Thistle said. “This is only the beginning.”

W
E SPENT
a full hour watching the storm, my eyes growing heavier even as Thistle excitedly chattered away. It was an intense light show, but the sound of the rain beating on the roof lulled me, and eventually I drifted off.

I slept hard, my dreams filled with happy laughter. I couldn’t see the woman giggling in my dreams, but I knew it was Thistle.

At some point the dream shifted, though, and I realized the sound wasn’t laughter but screaming. I jolted awake, bolting to a sitting position and scanning the loft for Thistle. Her spot next to me on the makeshift pallet was empty, and my heart filled with dread.

A second scream filled the loft, followed almost immediately by a roaring rumble of thunder. I rolled to my side, glancing over the edge of the loft for some sign of Thistle – or imminent danger.

One of the horses – I couldn’t be sure which one – stamped in its stall. The storm made all of them antsy, but the scream added to their discomfort.

“Thistle?”

I cocked my head to the side, praying for the reassuring sound of her voice. Perhaps she was down soothing the horses. Maybe she never fell asleep and got restless. When she didn’t answer, my heart rate ratcheted up a notch.

“Thistle!”

She didn’t answer a second time and I crawled for the ladder, swinging my leg over and quickly descending. I was barefoot, which is a general no-no in a stable thanks to errant nails and other debris, but a tetanus shot was better than the horrible things flying through my mind.

“Thistle!”

The storm answered for her, the thunder shaking the building. Then I heard the scream again. Whoever made the noise was outside. I raced toward the door, my toe hitting something sharp. I swore under my breath but ignored the pain as I threw the door open.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The rain came down in heavy sheets, hitting the ground so hard it bounced. The outdoor area of the stable consisted of flattened dirt, which now resembled a mud pit.

“Thistle!”

The sound of footsteps jerked my attention to the right. Instead of Thistle, though, I found a sopping wet teenaged girl. For a moment I thought she was in trouble and I took a step in her direction, intent on offering help. A second figure bolted out of the bushes, though, and the girl screeched when she saw it. The sound didn’t reflect terror, but glee.

She laughed as she darted away from him, giggling as he gave chase. It was just two teenagers messing around, which was a relief. That didn’t answer the big question, though.

“Thistle!”

“What?”

I jolted at the sound of her voice, swiveling quickly to find her standing in the open doorway of the stable.

“You scared the crap out of me,” I barked, striding toward her and pulling her in for a hug. “I thought that was you screaming.”

“I’m sorry,” Thistle said, patting my back. “I … I’m sorry.”

She looked confused, and a little frightened. “No, I’m sorry,” I said, taking a step back. My clothing was completely soaked through. “I just when I woke up and you were gone.”

“I went to the bathroom,” Thistle said.

“I called for you.”

“I didn’t hear you,” Thistle said, running her index finger down my wet cheek. “I didn’t want to wake you when I came down. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, grabbing her hand and pressing it to my chest. “I thought you were outside and I ran out when I heard the screaming. It turned out to be two teenagers messing around in the storm.”

“Okay,” Thistle said, reaching for the door to pull it closed. “It’s okay. It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah.” I exhaled heavily and then grabbed the door, pushing it forward so I could make sure it was locked. I cast a final glance outside, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end as I tried to shake the feeling of being watched.

I was being ridiculous. I was sure of it. The teenagers were probably out there laughing at me.

Still, something akin to dread crouched in the back of my mind. I stared out into the dark for a moment, but Thistle drew my attention away as she climbed back into the loft.