Chapter Three
Aggravation and a healthy dose of what could only be called jealousy pumped through Marsh’s body. Why, he had no idea, but it might be because some freaking guy was hitting on Constance.
“Sheriff MacMillan?” she said as if confused it was him. She gave the other man a worried glance. “Was there something you wanted?”
He had to fight the urge to tell her exactly what he wanted, which was her, naked and beneath him, moaning his name.
“Yes.”
She blinked at him, and he didn’t blame her.
His voice was rough with irritation and arousal.
A few moments ticked by and neither of them said anything.
He knew he should say something, but he just couldn’t seem to come up with words.
He was lost in those amazing blue eyes of hers.
They were the color of the Caribbean, and there was something…
different about them. If he looked too long at them, he felt off center…
in a good way. Her hair was unbound and soft brown curls dripped over her shoulders.
Marsh could just imagine what they would feel like against his flesh.
A loud throat clearing from the man broke Marsh’s concentration. When he looked at him, the man was frowning, his arms crossed over his chest, and Marsh got the distinct feeling that the man believed he had trespassed.
“Sheriff MacMillan, this is my brother-in-law, Simon. Simon, this is Marsh MacMillan.”
The man didn’t look any happier, but Marsh was. No competition, apparently.
“No, but I am a roadblock,” Simon said with a frown.
For a second or two, the comment didn’t register. Then it did. Simon acted as though he had heard Marsh’s thoughts. Impossible. Marsh knew he hadn’t said it out loud.
“Did you stop by for a reason?” she asked, stepping in front of her brother-in-law.
“Ah,” he said, sounding like a complete idiot. He hadn’t really had a reason, of course. He’d wanted to be near her for some reason after dealing with Cynthia. The altercations with her always left him off in some way. It felt as though he had dealt with something disgusting.
The brother-in-law took pity on him.
“I’ll be back in a bit, Constance. I must go hunt up that wife of mine.”
Constance gave Simon a worried look, and he wondered about it. But Simon shook his head and smiled.
“Have more faith in me, sister.”
She sighed. “Okay. But, please, don’t irritate her. I really am not in the mood to deal with Caprice when she’s mad at you.”
He kissed her on the cheek, then gave Marsh a warning look before sauntering out of the shop.
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” he said.
She nodded. “A twin actually.”
The thought of two women who looked like Constance had his brain stopping for a few seconds. He shook his head.
“She looks like you?”
She laughed. It shimmered over his nerve endings and sent another burst of heat dancing through his blood.
“No. Caprice is very pretty. Almost six feet tall, blonde hair, and thin.”
“Oh.” Didn’t sound all that pretty to Marsh. Since high school, his tastes had evolved, and he found himself more attracted to women with abundant curves.
“So, was there something you wanted? Did the mayor want to pick up Sebastian and put him in her basket on the bike?”
For a second he didn’t say anything, but then he threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, that is good. Cynthia is kind of…well, she’s not nice.”
She smiled and walked behind her counter. “So, you know her? You call her Cynthia.”
More comfortable now, he leaned on the counter. “Yeah. Well, even if I didn’t, I would call her by her first name.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because it irritates her.”
Oh, shit. He didn’t really admit that out loud, did he? He did.
She shook her head. “Why would it irritate her?”
Since he already admitted it, there was no reason not to explain. “I went to high school with her. She acts like she’s better than everyone. I don’t like it.”
The warm smile she gave him stunned him. “That’s because you’re a good man.”
He wasn’t such a good man. The idea of seeing her wearing that smile and nothing else was predominant in his head.
“Do you stop for lunch?”
She shook her head. “Not really. Most of the time I eat something I bring from home.” Then she frowned. “Which I forgot. Mondays suck.”
He chuckled. “How about I bring you something from the café?”
Again, she blinked, then offered him a bright, wide smile. Now he knew he could do anything, even deal with Cynthia and Killer, if Constance would smile at him like that every day.
“I would love that. I heard they’re having tortilla soup today.”
“Okay. Is that it?”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
And just like that, he felt like he owned the world. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Then he left the store, practically whistling. What had started out as a bad day just got better by a thousand times.
“You work weird hours,” Caprice said, causing Constance to almost drop the books she brought home with her.
She gave her sister an angry glare, which was totally ignored. Her sister had changed her clothes. Now, she was dressed in a tight catsuit. Merryweathers were so dramatic. Caprice more than likely thought it fit what she saw as her role now.
“I wish you would quit doing that.”
Constance shut her door and locked it. Her whole body hurt.
She didn’t know why, but it was aching from the inside out.
She could not remember ever feeling like this before.
For witches, there were very few mortal diseases that would take them down.
This was something from the magickal world.
Maybe it was because she had grown accustomed to the easy vibrations that she got from mortals.
Being around her own kind could be draining Constance's energy.
“What am I supposed to do? Knock on the door like a mortal?” It was said with enough disgust to pull a smile from Constance, but even that hurt.
“Really, darling, how do you live like this?”
“It’s not that hard. Being human.”
Caprice rolled her eyes. “I find it weird that you would even want to do this. " Your ability to conjure spells is so mind-blowing, and you’re wasting it here.”
Constance walked into her kitchen. “Yes. But it was this or marry Alistair. I didn’t see a choice.”
“Quite right. Marriage isn’t what it is all cracked up to be.”
Constance didn’t groan, but she wanted to. She wanted to tell her sister to go away. She had less than ten days to lose her virginity. Ten days to seduce a man who up until today acted as if she irritated her.
“So, you had lunch with Sheriff Hunk?”
“Yes. Well, sort of. He brought me soup, then he got a call. Something about a domestic dispute.”
“Ah.”
“Wait, how did you know?”
“I was in that café for lunch. Ignoring Simon who was eating at my table.”
Maybe it was the vibes off the two of them messing with her aura. “Lord, you two need help. Why would you eat lunch with him?”
“You are our mutual interest. I can say all kinds of horrible things about my ex, but one is not how he feels about you. He loves you like a sister, and he’s worried. He doesn’t like MacMillan, but in a sort of big brother way.”
“I don’t,” Simon said from the doorway.
She jumped and another flash of pain shot through her. “Dammit, stop that. Both of you. I hate it.”
She opened the cupboard to grab a cup, but it floated out and then down on the counter. Constance gave Simon a nasty look.
“Sorry. Force of habit. Anyway, MacMillan was having some naughty thoughts about you.”
Simon had always been a good reader. He didn’t really have to try. Constance knew stray thoughts came to him easily.
“Stop listening. And if he’s having naughty thoughts, that’s good,” Caprice said. “We just have to figure out how to get him over here before Alistair shows up.”
Constance stopped in mid-drink. “What are you talking about?”
The couple shared a glance.
“Don’t make me open myself to you empathically. You know what that does to me. It’s bad enough I feel like I’m coming down with a cold of some sort.” When Caprice opened her mouth, Constance shook her head to stop her. “No, don’t argue with me or pull the worried act. What are you two thinking?”
“There are rumors,” Caprice said.
“About what? Please don’t tell me that everyone in town knows I’m trying to get the Sheriff in my bed. That would be mortifying.”
It could be why Doris was always giving her looks. Constance never felt comfortable when the woman was near her.
“No, darling, we’re talking about rumors about Alistair. He’s looking for you,” Caprice said, worry haunting her blue eyes.
She frowned. “For me? Really? I had the idea that he really didn’t want to marry me either.”
“But he wants something more. He wants power. And he will use you to get it,” Simon said, anger vibrating in his voice. Caprice gave him a look, and Constance saw her sister’s lips curve slightly.
“I don’t know how that’s going to work. I know of the prophecy. I know the head of that family is supposed to be my one true love and mate, and then we bring together all the families, blah blah blah. But I never believed it.”
“It doesn’t matter if you believe it. He does, and he’s a little crazy, so you should be very careful now that you are getting down to the last week,” Caprice said.
Something evil slithered through the air, dancing around her kitchen, unsettling Constance. She only got that sick feeling around one person.
“I really don’t like the term crazy, Caprice,” Alistair said.
He appeared, dressed in an Armani suit, his thick dark hair perfectly brushed, and his dark eyes studying the situation. “And I really hate to think that my future sister-in-law would use that term.”
Then he turned his attention to Constance. A cold chill settled over her, and for a second, she wasn’t sure she could breathe.
“Connie, darling, how have you been?”