Chapter 16
Sammy asks me to go out for ice cream the weekend after our…whatever it was. I agree, figuring it’s the least I can do after the guy acted as my personal assistant and nursemaid, then pleasured himself in my bathroom at my request.
I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I do know I haven’t been able to get the image of him standing shirtless in my kitchen while cradling my kitten out of my mind. Maybe I just need to spend more time around him for his latent playboy douchebag personality to reemerge, and then I can go back to ignoring him without a hint of guilt.
After insisting on driving myself, I arrive at the address Sammy sent me and stare up at the intriguing wood-carved sign.
Land of Ice Cream Snow.
I smile at the play on words. As a librarian, I appreciate a quality pun. And I can’t remember the last time I treated myself to an ice cream cone. Or too much of anything now that I think about it.
The realization has me frowning.
With the depleted library staff, it’s not uncommon for me to work late multiple nights a week just to keep my email inbox from exploding in a passive-aggressive, professor-request mess. When I get home, I’m exhausted, but I still have to brew a cup of my healing tea, which I now make a dose of morning and night to stave off stress migraines. Used to be that I only needed a cup of the elixir once or twice a week.
With my magic running out faster, I’m dancing more at The Jewelry Box to keep my well full. Not that Yasmin minds my request for extra shifts, but I don’t know that I want to be there as often as I am. Or, at least, I don’t want to need to be there.
When I’m not on the stage, I try to treat myself to a book, but more often than not, I can’t get into the story with the next day’s to-do list scrolling through my head.
Damien’s backyard pool party was supposed to be a treat, but then it turned into another magic drain. Not that I blame Sammy. He didn’t mean to shove his bone outside of his skin.
The memory has me rubbing my chest where a tight panicked ball forms.
Much as I hate the aftereffects, I’m glad I was there. That the Squid didn’t have to go to a hospital. That he didn’t have to spend more than a few minutes in pain.
As I walk across the hot parking lot toward the door of the shop, I quicken my step. The urge to see Sammy and check on his arm washes through me. When he showed up during my migraine spell, I was too steeped in my own pain to remember his.
When I push the door open, a tingling chill races over my skin, but I’m used to that after living here for so long. In Phoenix, I don’t need a jacket outside, but sometimes I wish I brought one when I step into the businesses that pump up their AC to the max. Though, I have to admit, after the initial shock, this coldness is pleasant. Mild and refreshing after the sweltering day.
Everything about this shop is pleasantly surprising. I expected cutesy colors and a handful of small tables only large enough to support a few cups of ice cream. The classic ice cream parlor decor.
Instead, I enter a mountain man’s wet dream.
The place is full of heavy wooden furniture and glows with warm lighting from simple, rustic fixtures.
It’s like the abominable snowman opened an ice cream shop in the Rocky Mountains.
“Ava!”
I glance toward the sound of my name and spy Sammy dodging around a group of teenagers who loiter in the middle of the shop.
“Sammy.” I say his name in a more subdued tone than he used with mine, but it doesn’t dim his grin as he comes to a stop in front of me.
“You came.” Somehow, he manages to smile wider. “Quinn bet Auggie twenty bucks you’d stand me up.”
“You’re saying the names of people I don’t know.” And I’m not sure how I feel about people betting on me.
“Sorry.” A light blush stains the top of his cheeks, but that grin keeps on grinning. “Auggie—August—is my cousin. Well, second cousin, I think. His grandfather and my grandmother were siblings. Anyway, he owns this shop.” The Squid waves to take in the log-cabin decorated place. “Quinn is his girlfriend.”
“Ah.” Still not sure how I feel about it. “Show me your arm.”
Sammy’s brows quirk.
“The one I…fixed,” I clarify, using the vague word, since we’re in public.
“Right.” Sammy extends his right arm to me, the limb bare since he’s wearing a short-sleeved gray Henley. I try not to notice how the material strains over his bicep. Instead, I cradle his forearm, tilting it to search for any sign of lingering injury. There’s a light pink scar tracing through his golden-tinted arm hair. Other than that, there’s nothing to indicate he was severely injured only a week ago.
Despite establishing this, I don’t immediately release him. My fingers require more exploration to be satisfied. Tracing the blue veins from his inner elbow to his wrist, where I find a surprisingly callused palm. I wouldn’t expect a pretty boy with more money than he knows what to do with to have hands that look used to manual labor. But maybe that’s what he thought when he saw the rough patches on my librarian’s hands.
My mind brings up the memory of Sammy massaging my fingers with the perfect amount of pressure. Then I recall how his forearm tensed and flexed as he stroked himself.
For me.
A bell rings, and I jerk my head up, remembering I’m in public, and that was the sound of another customer entering the ice cream parlor.
Also, I’ve been fondling Sammy’s forearm for an undetermined amount of time. My gaze flicks up to meet his, and I see a hunger in his eyes that I doubt is for frozen treats. Not with the way my skin is flushed with the sparkle of magic and the taste of peanuts tickles my tongue.
“How do I look?” When he asks, Sammy’s voice is more serious than I’ve ever heard him.
“All healed.” I drop his arm as if burned and shove my fists into the pockets of my loose linen shorts. “So, your cousin makes the ice cream here?” A change of subject I need. “Is it any good?”
The Squid’s smile is slow and entirely too self-satisfied. But he doesn’t push me. “It’s the best.” He tilts his head toward the line, and I follow him. “I wanted to invest in the place, but he adamantly refused. Auggie never takes my money.” He practically whines the words, and I bite my lip to keep from smiling. “So now I spend all that potential investment cash buying myself endless ice cream.”
There’s something in his voice that catches my attention. The glow of pride. But I don’t feel like it’s for himself. I get the sense that Sammy is genuinely proud of his cousin for making this place a success.
“I haven’t had ice cream in ages,” I admit.
Sammy turns a horrified look on me. “Gods. Why not?”
I shrug. “I never buy it from the grocery store because I’m worried it’ll melt on the drive home and get everywhere. And I don’t go out for it.”
He nods, face somber. “Maybe that’s for the best. Because this ice cream will shame all other frozen desserts you’ve ever consumed. It’s not fair to compare them.”
“Oh really?” Now I bite the inside of my cheek to fight off a smile.
He sends me a mischievous smirk. “You’ll see.”
Just then, the couple in front of us step to the side, clutching their desserts, and reveal the man behind the counter.
A mountain of a man.
A big, bearded mammoth dressed in a blue apron.
“Ava, meet my cousin August. Auggie, meet Ava.” Sammy grins between the two of us like this is some momentous occasion. Like he’s been eager to introduce me to his family member for a while now, and finally the event is upon us.
What does Sammy want from me?
I keep that question to myself and offer a nod to the wall of a man. “Nice to meet you.”
August’s beard crinkles as the corners of his mouth curve up. “You too, Ava. Sammy talks about you a lot.”
“A normal amount,” Sammy amends.
“All the time.” August rumbles.
“Only some of the time.”
“If you’re here against your will”—the ice cream maker holds my gaze—“blink twice.”
“That’s it!” Sammy huffs, throwing his arms in the air. “We don’t want any ice cream from you.”
“I still want ice cream,” I chime in, stifling a chuckle at their familial banter. “You need to keep your hostages well fed.”
Sammy gapes at me and August grins wider. “What’ll it be?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder toward a chalkboard with flavors. “Feel free to sample.”
Sammy steps in closer, his chest brushing my shoulder, and his fresh rain scent teasing my nose. “The Peach Gobbler is my favorite.”
“Good for you.” I place a hand flat on his chest intending to push him away, but then I forget to follow through and end up fiddling with a button on his collar while I read over the offerings and enjoy the buzz of a magical refill trickling through me. “Could I sample the Campfire S’mores and the Death by Minty Chocolate?”
August nods, his eyes twinkling as he turns to the freezer to spoon out my choices.
“You’re not even going to try the peach?” Sammy’s question sounds breathless, and I glance up to find him staring at me, pupils dilated. My fingers continue to play with his button, and I can’t fully understand why this man’s intense attraction doesn’t have me running in the opposite direction.
Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he took care of me when I needed someone to, and he did it in the way I needed him to.
“You’re getting the peach, right?”
He nods.
“Well then, I assume you’ll be willing to share some with the woman who made sure you have two working arms.”
The Squid’s eyes go wide, but he doesn’t have time to respond before August is offering me my tastings while grinning at something over my shoulder.
“Thanks for that, by the way,” a husky voice says at my back. Next I know, a bombshell of a redhead is leaning against the counter beside me, a welcoming expression on her face. “You can’t imagine how much whining we’d have to put up with if Sammy were in a cast for months.” She offers a small wave. “I’m Quinn. I think you know my sister, Cat.”
Ah, yes. It’s all coming together in my head now. The web of interconnected magic wielders in Phoenix.
“I would not have whined,” Sammy announces. “I would have suffered in silent dignity.”
Quinn snorts. “You mean like I did the one time we slept together?” She throws out the comment the same time I slip the S’mores scoop onto my tongue, and suddenly my entire body is cold.
That’s some potent ice cream.
“Quinn,” Sammy groans.
“What?” The redhead shrugs. “It’s best to air this stuff in the beginning.” Quinn fixes me with her warm hazel gaze. “I’m in a committed relationship with this one.” She jabs a finger at August, who silently watches the exchange, wearing a small smile like he’s enjoying the show. “Years ago, Sammy and I slept together once. It was bad. Never wanted a repeat.”
“Is this supposed to help me in some way?” The handsome Squid at my side huffs as the chill under my skin quickly dissipates. “I think it’s important that we—as a group—acknowledge people can change and grow and get much better at figuring out where, exactly, the clit is located and how much attention it should be given!” Sammy’s voice is a touch too loud at the end of his rant, and I swear I hear a gasp from the table of teenagers.
Well, he’s not wrong. And it’s information they should keep in mind.
Quinn appears delighted, her eyes practically glowing as she flicks them between my irate companion and me. “Look at you! I think Sammy has a crush.” Quinn sings the last word in a taunting note, then leans in close and pretends to whisper to me. “Even though I lost, I’m glad you showed. This is amazing.” She slips her hand into her back pocket and pulls out a twenty, then circles the counter to tuck the bill into August’s apron.
Then she helps her boyfriend scoop our orders, despite Sammy glaring at her the whole time. I let him pay because he seems to enjoy giving his cousin money, including a large tip in the jar on the counter, which has August rolling his eyes.
We settle in a booth, him with a cup of Peach Gobbler flavor and me with a waffle cone of Death by Minty Chocolate. The freshness of the mint paired with the rich chocolate is decadent, and I stifle a moan as I take a long lick.
Magic prickles through me, tightening my nipples, and I lift my gaze to find Sammy’s eyes on me. He drops them quickly, but it’s no use.
His lust is a constant force between us.
Is the physical all he feels for me?
Is that a problem?
He’s an attractive guy, and the simple act of him coming in front of me gave me more magic reserves than I can ever remember having.
And more dirty dreams too.
Would it be so bad if we did it again? Maybe when my head isn’t threatening to split in two?
“You promised you’d try,” Sammy says, and I’m about to snap at him in defense that I promised him no part of me.
But then I realize he’s extending his spoon across the table, with a mound of creamy treat. Without a word, I lean forward and let the spoon slip past my lips, noting how his pupils dilate as he watches.
The taste is ambrosia, peach mixed with his peanut butter lust. The flood of magic is invigorating after what’s felt like years of living on the edge of exhaustion.
And I decide this man is too tempting not to sample.
After the spoon slips from my mouth, licked clean, and I swallow the offering, I hold Sammy’s stare.
“Come over tonight.”