Chapter 13
Help! Help! George cried, sounding like pathetic meows to anyone else. Talking to George was one of their gifts, a gift they sometimes wished they could return. Maggie could talk to any animal, but the rest of them only had George.
You’re such a drama queen,Penny said to him as she unlocked Maggie’s apartment. He instantly wound his body around her legs, getting orange and white cat hair on her black dress pants. Guess I won’t be wearing these tonight.
He rolled his eyes. Another hot date with the ball thrower?
It’s not a date. What was your emergency?
My bowl is empty.
It’s not.And it never was. A motorist had found George alongside the road and dropped him off at the shelter. He was in terrible shape, but they’d called Nanna to treat him. He’d made it through surgery, and after several intensive days of care, he came around. When it was obvious he’d survive, Nanna had introduced Maggie to him, and she’d fallen in love with the one-eyed, cantankerous cat.
Empty and old are the same.He walked to the food cupboard with his tail held high, assuming she’d follow and obey. Penny scraped the remains from the bowl down the garbage disposal and grabbed him a fresh bowl. A fishy one, he suggested, as she stared at the options.
You can’t be that hungry if you’re being particular. She popped the lid on a whitefish in gravy and spooned it into the bowl. He dove into it as if he hadn’t eaten in days. After a few bites, he gave her the side-eye with his good one. I’m not sharing this. Get your own can or eat one of Maggie’s cookies.
I need to go, George.
He sat and stared at her, food forgotten. Just for a little bit? Maggie’s working all day and she picked up an evening shift. Last night he was here, and she cuddled with him on the couch. Penny knew he was Lucas, and she couldn’t be happier for her sister, but it sounded like His Royal Feline was lonely.
A cookie sounds good. Thanks, George.Penny eyed the oversized cookies filled with peanut butter, oats, coconut, and chocolate chips. She hoped Maggie wouldn’t miss one, because the giant cookie was now Penny’s dinner. George nodded his head and resumed eating as she bit into it and came up with Plan B since cat hair on Plan A wouldn’t look good at the art exhibit.
How was your day?he asked, and she nearly choked on her cookie. George wasn’t known for being interested in others unless it involved him. Hmm, a bit like Bash, actually, she thought, not sharing the comparison with George.
Since when are you interested in my day?
I’m not.
Then why did you ask?
It will keep you here talking to me.
George, I need to go get ready.
For your date,he said, sounding abandoned and batting away his bowl with half of his food left.
It’s not a date, Penny said.
Is he picking you up?
No, we’re meeting at the art museum. There’s a new exhibit on loan from the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art in California.George yawned.
Are you going to dinner after? he asked.
I don’t think so.
Dessert?
I doubt it.
No food and you’re driving your clown-car. What’s in it for you?
Good night, George.Penny gave him an extra cuddle before setting him in the middle of the couch—his favorite spot—and locking the door behind her.
George’s question poked at her. Kisses are in it for me, and increased powers. She looked around her apartment, identical to Maggie’s, but very different. Maggie’s was homey and uncluttered, but Penny filled hers with her travel treasures and overflowing bookshelves. Maggie’s kitchen was always spotless, but Penny’s wasn’t. Dirty dishes in the sink and on the counter didn’t bother her, not when there was a book waiting, or dogs to be walked and loved on at the rescue center.
Penny could have used her magic to keep the kitchen tidy, but magic required energy. To increase her powers, she needed to either get more energy or be more efficient in how she used it. For all the Buchanan witches, it was a matter of choice. They couldn’t be magicking willy-nilly. Every energy adjustment needed to be a conscious decision. Penny used hers like a personal assistant to help multitask in the office—when no one was around—and now as she got ready for her non-date date with Bash.
One hand directed the hot rollers and the other the clothes steamer. She could have magicked the wrinkles away in the colorful tunic with its square neckline and bold, geometric patterns, but it was easier to magic the steamer than the crisp cotton. And it left her with energy to magic the hot rollers.
She normally wore her strawberry blonde hair pulled back, otherwise there was too much red around her face. But not tonight. The cat hair on her black pants forced her to rethink her outfit, which forced her to rethink a few other things, too. So far, the only thing she’d gotten out of this deal with Bash was a hot kiss by her car that had left her heart pounding and her knees weak and a platonic kiss the other night.
He’d stopped by Get Lost at closing time and peppered her with unending business-related questions as she closed the register and turned off the lights. It took twice as long as it usually did. His irritation during the process hadn’t helped, either. When she’d told him she could close or answer his questions, he’d mumbled something about it not looking complicated and she should be able to do both. He let her finish in peace before asking, “Feel like ice cream? Cal says there’s a place nearby.” And that’s how she’d ended up splitting a hot fudge caramel sundae with him and walking around Tumble Falls wearing his sweatshirt, feeling like a high schooler with stars in her eyes walking with the quarterback.
But she wasn’t an overly emotional teen, and he wasn’t the most popular guy on campus. He was arrogant, abrasive, and a nonreader. He didn’t check any of her boxes, other than his height and good looks. And his intelligence and dry humor, she admitted as she turned off the steamer and glanced at the tunic.
She’d purchased it on a whim while traveling in Spain. By the time her trip ended, she was sick and tired of wearing it, so she’d stuck it in the back of her closet. It didn’t fit with her earth-toned, business casual vibe at work or what she wore on dates. But with black tights and her black suede ankle boots, the low-cut tunic could work as a short dress. He wouldn’t expect her to show up wearing something bold and sexy like this. Hopefully, she’d pull a quarterback sack and knock him off his feet so she could sneak past his defenses and read him. And snag a few kisses, too.
Bash stood awkwardly on the sidelines, smiling at the attendees who’d caught his attention. His interview had ended early and instead of driving around to kill time, he’d come straight to the museum, eager to see Penny.
He’d forgotten that being on time opened him up to idle chitchat. Bash nodded his head and tried to pay attention to an exhibit sponsor—an impossible task since the man was duller than dirt and tacky with his donation request—when the hairs on the back of his neck pricked. He turned toward the danger and gulped.
“Excuse me,” Bash said, before walking away, and leaving the old man sputtering in his wake. Bash wasn’t letting Penny walk through the event alone. Several heads had already turned, and some prick was bound to make a move on her.
Her hair was a riot of curls with that tousled post-sex look he hadn’t seen on a woman for months. And that dress, what there was of it, was more colorful and interesting than anything hanging on the walls. The bright colors should have washed her out, but they framed her like a living work of art. The low-cut neckline finally gave him a glimpse of her incredible rack, but he feared the straight cut of the dress would hide her runner’s ass. She looked stylish and edgy, with a look all her own. Penny would fit into any New York City gallery opening his parents dragged him to.
Penny froze, but her eyes raked over him as he approached. Holy hell, Penny’s hot, he thought, stopping in front of her. They stared at each other, forcing other attendees to walk around them. Bash heard one couple debate if they were part of the exhibit as living statues.
“You’re late,” Bash said, sounding rougher than he’d like.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry. Parking was—”
“You should have called.” She stepped away from him, but he grabbed her hand. He wouldn’t blame her if she walked away. He was being a first-class ass. Bash hated these types of events, and he’d expected his friendly shopgirl to show up, not this heart-stopping version who short-circuited his brain. He took a deep breath and stepped closer. “I’m sorry. I’m nervous, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” He leaned closer. “You look nice,” he said, before dropping a chaste kiss on her cheek.
“You clean up pretty good, too.” She gave him a tight smile, which didn’t reassure him, but she accepted a drink when he snagged one from a passing waiter. Their fingers brushed and her eyes widened. It would be easier for him to battle his attraction to her if he didn’t know she felt the same. Penny had zero game-face. She broadcasted every emotion across her lovely face.
“Have you looked around?”
“A bit.”
“What do you think?”
“It’s not the Met, but it’s not bad.” He shrugged.
“Such high praise.” Several people approached and asked him to sign the exhibit’s brochure. Penny nodded slightly so he pulled the purple marker from inside his suit coat. He preferred black, but the Tetons’ PR department wanted players to use purple, one of the team’s colors. Complying was an easy way to keep them happy and off his back. “You’re good at that,” Penny said as the couples walked away, rehashing their experience.
“Signing my name?” She rolled her eyes and gently elbowed him in the ribs.
“No, dealing with the fans. It would drive me crazy. But you have people skills, you know.”
“Sixty-second interactions don’t make a relationship. I need help with the one-on-one ongoing personal ones. And it would drive you crazy because you’d want more than sixty-seconds. You’d want to know more about them and make a connection, like you do with everyone. You’re not happy with the surface. You want to go deeper.”
“Don’t you?”
“Not usually. There are very few people who I find interesting enough to want to dive deeper.”
“Everyone’s interesting, but not everyone flaunts it. Sometimes you need to dig.”
“I’m not good with a shovel.”
“Lucky for you I am.” She sipped her drink and Bash watched her eyes skate around the room. “See that man on crutches? I’d ask what happened and what’s next in his recovery.”
Bash snorted. The last thing he wanted was to hear a sob story. What was the point in listening to someone’s problems if you couldn’t solve them? The man needed a doctor, not a sympathetic ear.
“And that lady over there? The one in the green dress rubbing her stomach? I’d ask when the baby was due and if she had any names picked out.”
“But what if she isn’t pregnant and only has an itchy belly? Now I’ve insulted her.”
“Fair point. You could always ask if this is her first exhibit opening. The important thing is that you show an interest in them. That’s how you connect.” She touched his arm and looked at him. Penny had so much earnest belief in him on her face he wanted to laugh. He’d never have the skills she did. “And you can always fall back on the weather or the team as conversation starters.”
“Or Harper’s latest rant against the team.” Her opinion piece in yesterday’s newspaper and its online version had been brutal. Bash and Lucas had run damage control to remind everyone with the Tetons that Harper’s opinions were not Cal’s, and they couldn’t hold him accountable for his sister’s delusions.
“People just want to be acknowledged, Bash. Let them know you see them.” Penny’s words sliced through him.
How could he see someone when he’d spent his whole life trying to get the two people who’d brought him into the world to see him? His misspent youth was one mishap after another, trying to get their attention.
It was the reason he’d tried out for football. He knew they’d hate it. The physicality. The violence. The physical risks. But they didn’t care enough to stop him, so he kept playing. And here he was, fourteen years later, still playing.
He didn’t love it, not like Lucas did, but playing was a handy excuse to keep him away from VV Pub. He knew he was successful on the field, but he was unproven in the boardroom. In their current precarious situation, rookie mistakes would ruin them. So, Bash continued to play, but in his free time he learned all he could about publishing and managing a business. What he couldn’t ascertain was the connection between people and books, and that’s where his deal with Penny came in.
She held the key to his future success, and it scared the crap out of him. Once he understood the link, he’d have no more excuses to avoid the family business. And personally, he felt seen by her. Penny accepted his unease and awkwardness, but she expected him to overcome it. She expected more from him, and oddly enough, he wanted to be better for her. He didn’t want to be the one to disappoint her.