Cole
“Word is you were getting handsy with the witch behind Bean There,” Casanova snickers at work Thursday.
Buzz smirks.
“Guess she likes ‘em older.”
“Did she curse you?” Dan asks before I can set the two men straight.
The crew is gathered around the picnic tables waiting for our daily safety meeting and while they’re trying to pretend like they’re not listening to our conversation they all stop talking as they wait for my answer.
I clench my fists hard enough to make my knuckles pop.
They’re no better than the Anderson sisters for how much they like to gossip.
“Nope.”
“Was she mad? Did she take a strand of your hair or talk backwards?”
Dropping my lunchbox onto the table I level the younger man with a deadpan look.
“She’s not an actual witch, you moron.”
“You don’t know!” he shouts back.
“I do know.”
“How?” Dan asks. He doesn’t give me a chance to answer before he shouts, “She could be luring you in to steal your soul!”
“Bunch of idiots,” Buzz mutters in an unexpected display of support.
Casanova and Dan both begin to argue but they’re interrupted by Tobias Carmichael coming out of the office.
He took over the business from his dad a few years ago, but a stranger would never know it.
Tobias and his two younger brothers have worked for the family business since they graduated high school, and they’ve earned it.
There isn’t a job on this site they haven’t done. So, when the boss speaks, we shut up.
He's a tall man with dark brown hair and a matching beard. In L.A. or New York City, he’d stand out from the crowd, but in Crescent Ridge he blends into the crowd of mountain men.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” he says with a wide grin when he joins us at the tables.
My glare could melt steel, but Buzz is unbothered by my irritation. Gossips. All of them.
“I’m getting married on Friday,” I tell Tobias.
“You’re marrying the witch?” Dan asks, shaking his head. “She’s a thick one.”
Sabrina leans into the spirit of Halloween, embracing her television namesake with joy but it hasn’t escaped my notice the way she shrinks when the locals poke fun at her weight.
I’ve been watching her for a while, and I’ve bitten my tongue more times than I can count.
It wasn’t my place to fight her battles.
She managed well enough on her own, always returning verbal jabs with quick quips and witty remarks.
It burns my throat to think of how many shitty passive aggressive comments she’s had to deal with over the years.
But that was before me. Before I knew I would find my soulmate in a small mountain town. Before she agreed to give me a chance. Little miss independent isn’t on her own anymore. Fuck that shit.
“Don’t you dare talk about her like that,” I growl.
Tobias raises his eyebrows at my tone and Dan is shocked but I’m not backing down. The guys can joke about anything else, but they’re not going to make fun of my girl. Not anymore.
“Easy,” Buzz mutters to me. “The kid’s still wet behind the ears.”
Dan throws up his hands in surrender.
“Sabrina is off limits,” he agrees.
The boss claps his hands and starts the morning meeting. It’s a long eight hours before I’m off the clock and headed down the mountain to pick up my fiancée.
Tomes and Tea is closed when I arrive, but the door is unlocked, and I let myself inside. The bell over the door rings and footsteps scurry overhead.
“Just a minute!” Sabrina calls down in a frantic voice.
Smirking I climb the narrow stairs to her apartment, taking them two at a time. At the top, I step into a small but cozy apartment. The ceiling slopes low, the furniture is mismatched, and the air smells faintly of cinnamon.
Something black streaks past my boots. Then another. A third saunters right up to me, cocking his head like he owns the place. If I had considered it, I would’ve known she’d have a black cat. But I never would have expected there to be three. All black. Almost identical.
“You must be hellcats,” I mutter.
The bold one lets out a chirrup and rubs against my shin. I crouch to scratch behind his ear, and the cat purrs like a chainsaw.
“That’s Oswald,” Sabrina says breathlessly as she rushes out of the bedroom. Her black dress swirls around her knees, half-zipped, her hair clipped back in a hurry. She’s got one boot on, one bare foot, and smoky eyeliner half-done on one eye.
I forget how to breathe.
She freezes when she sees me, as if she’s just realized I’m standing in her living room.
“You weren’t supposed to come up yet!”
“Door wasn’t locked.” I straighten, Oswald curling around my boots like he’s claimed me. “I didn’t want to wait downstairs like some creep.”
“You’re not a creep.” She points her eyeliner pencil at me like it’s a weapon. “But you are a beast, breaking and entering like you did.”
Her cheeks are flushed, whether from rushing around her apartment or from me catching her like this, I can’t tell. But I like it.
One of the other cats, sleek and judgmental, perches on top of the fridge. The third stretches on the couch like a lord surveying his domain. She points to each in turn introducing me to Obsidian and Onyx.
“They don’t usually like strangers,” Sabrina mutters as she zips her boot. “Oswald must think you’re acceptable.”
“High praise. So, this is you.” I glance around, taking in the cramped kitchen and the stacks of books spilling from every surface.
She straightens, tugging her bodice into place and lifting her chin like she dares me to criticize the skull patterned wallpaper of her kitchen or the herbs drying above her sink.
“It’s small but its mine,” she says defensively.
“It’s perfect,” I say, and I mean it. Witchy and messy and warm. Just like her.
Her glossy black lips part, surprise flashing across her face before she covers it with sass.
“Flattery won’t make me forgive you for barging in while I was dressing.”
“Not flattery. Observation,” I say letting my eyes drift down her curvaceous body in blatant appreciation. I step closer, brushing my thumb under the eye she hasn’t finished decorating.
“I like you like this.”
Her breath catches.
“Breathless. Messy. You’re quite the temptation.”
Behind us, Oswald meows loudly, breaking the moment. Sabrina rolls her eyes and turns away.
“Sit down before you charm all three of them and I never get them back,” she grumbles, breezing into the bathroom to finish her makeup. It’s still steamy from her shower, the warm air reaching out like a ghostly hand from the grave.
I sit. The cats watch me like a jury. Lounging on her couch I wait patiently for my girl to get ready for our date. She’d look gorgeous rolling out of bed, but I’ve never seen Sabrina out and about without her make-up on. I don’t wait long before she’s herding me out of the apartment.
“Let’s go before Onyx decides you’re unworthy.”
We leave her apartment, the air crisp with the first real bite of autumn.
Leaves crunch underfoot, lanterns glow in shop windows, and the scent of roasted nuts and spiced cider drifts up from the fairgrounds where the festival is in full swing, laughter and music carrying on the cool evening breeze.
Sabrina loops her arm through mine, tilting her head toward the carnival lights flickering ahead. It’s a struggle to walk straight with her warm body pressed against my side. I can’t think about anything but all those soft curves molding to my body while the woman at my side remains oblivious.
“Okay, lumberjack, where are you taking me first? Haunted hayride? Apple bobbing? Or straight to the fortune-teller so she can warn me off you?”
“Like you would listen to an imposter,” I say.
She smirks, squeezing my arm. Her hands are tiny, the tips of her nails biting into the skin beneath my flannel. They might as well be stroking my cock for how quickly my body reacts.
“Smart man.”
The crowd thickens as we step under the banner strung up between a large pair of maple trees. Kids dart between booths with caramel apples, couples stroll hand in hand, and a fiddler plays fast enough to make my blood pulse to the beat.
Sabrina inhales dramatically, eyes half-shut.
“Smell that? Cinnamon. Sugar. Fried everything. This is basically foreplay for me.”
I choke on a laugh.
“You’re something else.”
“Mm. I know.” She gives me a wicked grin and tugs me toward a ring toss booth. “C’mon, big guy. Win me a ridiculous stuffed animal so I can parade it around like a trophy.”
Larry Young, the leader of the historical society, hands me a bucket of rings. Sabrina stands too close, the scent of vanilla clinging to her clothes. When I throw, she leans closer to coach, her breath warm on my neck.
My aim goes wild.
“Terrible,” she says with mock solemnity. “You’re making a fool of us both.”
“Or maybe you’re distracting me.”
She tilts her head, lips curling into a wicked smile.
“Oops.”
The next toss lands, the ring clinking around the metal peg. Sabrina cheers like I’ve won her an Olympic medal. I get another, then another, and before long the old man is handing her a massive black cat plush with a purple pointed hat.
She hugs it to her chest, smirking up at me.
“Look at you, Daddy. Providing already.”
Heat lances through me at the word, at the way she says it in public like a secret dare. I take the plush from her to keep my hands busy, because if I don’t, I’ll throw her over my shoulder and carry her home right now.
“Did the witch slip one of the lumberjacks a love potion?” someone whispers behind us.
I whirl around to confront the culprit, but they’ve already disappeared into the crowd. Sabrina is still delighted by the festival, and I don’t think she overheard the person gossiping.
Fuck. I hope she didn’t. People can be so casually cruel, and my girl deserves better.
“Hungry?” I ask, my voice rougher than I’d like.
“Always.” She taps her chin with a single finger as she ponders the available choices. “Funnel cake? Or maybe cider? Betty Anderson brewed this year’s batch.”