Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
CLEM.
“Good morning, Clem.” Tippy beams at me when I open the front door.
“Hi Tippy,” I say, and lead the way into my bedroom. She sashays over to the bed and plonks a small suitcase on the coverlet.
“How are you settling in?” she asks.
“Very well, thank you,” I reply primly, deciding not to mention that I jumped wet and naked into the sheriff’s arms last night.
Tippy turns to Otis, who has just appeared at the bedroom door, big hands looped on his hips.
“Okay, Otis, you can go. This is private girls’ time.”
He blinks, turns a darker shade of green, then with a grunted assent, pivots on his heels and is gone.
Tippy shuts the door behind him.
“Not the place for an orc.” She winks at me. “He might get all hot under the collar seeing you undress.”
“Oh, I don’t think… he seems… very, um… I mean—is he even interested in women?” I bluster. “That’s not a given, is it?” (Though recalling what was thrusting into me last night, I reckon it probably is a given!)
“Well, he was engaged to a female once.”
“Oh?” I try not to sound too interested.
“A sprite named Leanna. Very pretty, but not at all nice. A taker, not a giver. They split up a couple years back. Otis hasn’t had a date in absolutely eons, as far as I’m aware.
Poor guy probably doesn’t know what to do with himself with you flitting around the place wearing nothing but his shirt.
Which he will now probably take and hide under his pillow so he can sniff your scent later. ”
I bite my lip, trying not to blush.
“Only teasing. Honestly, it just seemed like he’d gotten rooted to the spot and needed a prompt to leave.” Tippy smirks.
“Fair enough,” I agree, even though the idea of Otis watching me undress kind of thrills me.
You’d love to strip for him.
I silence the thought—he’s my boss—and try not to think about bringing myself off last night to images of him fucking me.
Instead, I focus on Tippy, who’s unzipping the case and picking out some garments.
“These are suits from when I worked in our local pharmacy.”
I take the little black jacket and matching skirt and hold them against me. The skirt comes to just above my knee. The jacket has silver buttons and a nice collar.
“I like these. And very suitable for work.”
“These blouses would be perfect with it.” Tippy hands me three pastel-colored blouses in pink and lemon and baby blue. “Want an apron as well?”
“I did offer to do cleaning,” I laugh.
“This old place sure needs a spring clean.” Tippy sniffs the air. “I remember it from when I was a girl. Otis’s mom Sally kept it neat as a new pin. Those were the good old days, before Bradley Cane got killed.”
I nod. “Otis said his dad died in the line of duty. Do you know what happened?”
“A drug bust gone wrong. On level three, where the wolves live.”
A little shiver runs down my spine. “You have wolves in the Labyrinth?”
“Not on level one. They hang out on level three in their packs.”
“They sound dangerous.”
“There are some good ones, and some real bad ones. Personally, I wouldn’t trust a wolf further than I could throw them.
Wolves and vixen shifters have never seen eye to eye.
” She hesitates for a moment. “But hey, we shouldn’t be talking about all this heavy stuff on your first day.
Me and my big mouth.” She makes a zipping motion over her lips.
“But don’t worry, on level one everything’s peachy. We all get on well.”
I decide not to dwell on the wolf issue. “It must be fun working at Digger’s.”
“Oh, it is. Digger is a great boss, he gives me free rein to try out new ideas, bring healthy options onto the menu. Right, let’s have a look at you.
Ah, perfect fit.” She observes me, now dressed in a blouse and skirt.
Her amber eyes narrow as she adjusts the collar at my neck.
“Very smart. Take a look in the mirror.”
I stroke my sleek dark bob into place and focus on my reflection. “I love it.”
After that, she lays out a pair of leggings and a cropped tee. “I used to wear these when I was a personal trainer.”
“How many jobs have you had, Tippy?”
“Lots.” She gives a little huff. “My vocation is witching, but there are no jobs for witches these days.”
“Otis called you a wixen.”
“A wixen is the official term, yes. Not all vixen shifters are wixen of course, there are only a few of us.” She flicks a strand of red hair behind her ear with one hand, and I realize that what I thought were silver painted nails are actually silver claws.
“You can tell because our ears are longer, and so are our claws.” She flexes her hands and the claws lengthen.
“Do you practice magic?”
“I wish.” Her eyes cloud for a moment and her claws retract.
“Most of our ancient spells have been lost, and what we have left, we can’t understand.
I have one book, more like recipes, I guess.
I use them to help folks with health problems. My lotions and tonics are very effective.
” She glances at me sideways. “I gave your brother a quit smoking elixir and now he vapes, so I guess it kind of worked. I’m determined to get him off the vaping eventually.
It’s a work in progress.” She sighs as she puts the other garments back in the suitcase.
“Thank you so much for helping him,” I say softly. “He’s never listened to me about quitting, so one up for you.”
“He tried very hard not to listen. He’s a stubborn ass. I guess I just wouldn’t let go, because I’m equally stubborn. I wish he’d let me look at his scars. I could probably make a lotion to treat them.”
“Did he tell you how he got them, Tippy?”
“No.” She glances at me, her brows arching. “He hasn’t told you either?”
I shake my head. “All he’s said is that a gang of monsters mauled him. He refuses to talk about the past. I think he’s trying to drown out all the bad memories from our childhood.”
“Memories of what?”
I huff a sigh and give her a potted history of what happened after our mom disappeared.
Tippy listens intently, her ears flicking as I talk. Finally, she says, “Well, that explains a lot.”
“In what way?”
“Oh you know, the way he blows hot and cold all the time.”
“With you?”
She tinkles out a laugh. “Goddess, no, nothing is going on between us. I just meant generally, with everyone.”
Her cheeks turn as bright as her red hair and I smother a smile. Yep, Tippy definitely has the hots for my brother. Maybe I should warn her that she’ll be taking on a whole heap of problems, but somehow, I think she has the measure of him already.
As for Jax, I recall his reaction to seeing her yesterday, like he was almost too indifferent. The way he protested so much about her green smoothies.
I’d love him to find someone special. To my knowledge, he’s never had a long-term relationship, though I know girls have always found him strangely charismatic.
Personally, I don’t get it.
From a sister’s perspective, Jax just drives me nuts.
I decide to leave well enough alone and take one last look at my reflection. I love the look: efficient and smart, the short skirt just the right length to be a touch sexy.
Tippy pulls some pumps with heels out of the case and some sneakers. “You know what, I think these will fit you too.”
I slip on the pumps, and she’s right, they’re a perfect fit, kicking out my calves enough to give my legs extra shape.
I smile at my reflection, liking what I see.
Next to me, Tippy’s face in the mirror is all smiles. “Welcome to your new role, Clem Summers.”
Time flies when you’re having fun.
Not that I’d say it’s fun exactly—this house really is a mess, but I do like a challenge.
I’ve donned the leggings and the cropped t-shirt Tippy lent me, and the apron, and I’ve got busy these last couple hours.
I’ve neatly labelled the pages of coding, and put official sheriff documents into files.
I’ve dusted down the flat silver boxes with glass screens and keyboards and placed them neatly on a side table.
I’ve coiled up cords and put them next to the weird boxes, not knowing which belongs to which.
I find several loose recipes scattered in among the mess. Most of them are for cakes and cookies. I smile as I imagine Otis and me in the kitchen, baking together, laughing and happy, and I’m lost in a very pleasant daydream when there’s a knock at the front door.
When I get close, I see there’s a peephole in the center of the panel and peer through it.
Jax is standing on the other side, wearing a leather jacket.
When I open the door he strolls in like he owns the place.
Sheds his jacket, places a motorbike helmet on a chair in the hallway like he lives here.
That’s Jax for you, one hundred per cent cocky.
“Just came to see how you’re settling in.
” He casts a wry smile at my outfit. “Tippy gave you that, didn’t she? I recognize the apron.”
“She did. She’s so sweet.”
“Don’t be fooled.”
“She told me she’d got you off cigarettes. Very impressive.”
Jax shrugs. “I went along with it to stop her nagging.”
I smirk, and try to catch his eye, but he’s being particularly evasive today. “She’s very pretty,” I say airily.
“Is she? Hadn’t noticed.” He strides into Otis’s study. “Good gods, what’s happened here? It’s fucking tidy.”
I grin. “Took me a while.”
“You can actually see the top of his desk.” He runs a finger over it. “And no dust.”
“That’s me, superwoman.”
Jax cocks an eyebrow. “Not still pissed at me for abducting you?”
“Nah. Still pissed.”
“Just add it to the list of grudges.”
“I have already.”
He fist bumps my arm playfully and I cuff a hand over his dark, unruly hair.
“Want a cuppa?” I ask.
“Why not?”
He follows me into the kitchen, and I take down pots of dried leaves, frowning at all the unfamiliar blends. “What would you like? I don’t recognize any of these.”
“Zephea tea is good.” He points to a pot of purple dried leaves.
“Right.”
“Put a pinch of Mega powder in.”