Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
CHARLI
Teague’s gone when I wake, but there’s an indent on the pillow beside me.
I shove the hair back from my face and grab my phone.
Six-thirty a.m. Still early. I close my eyes, but the sunlight coming through the window won’t let me go back to sleep.
Yawning, I throw the covers off and make my way to the bathroom.
After taming my hair and using the restroom, I return to Teague’s bedroom to grab my shoes. Then I head into the living room. It’s empty. Am I the only one here?
Macklin’s deep chuckle has me spinning to the right. Through the patio doors, I watch as he and Teague do one push-up after another. Muscles flexing in their perfect forms, I watch the way they move. Confident. Precise. Clearly something they’ve done for a long time.
Macklin says something to Teague, who glares at him. The corners of my mouth twitch, but I stifle the laugh, not wanting them to know I’m watching. Macklin is wearing a black, sleeveless tank and shorts that show off his substantial biceps and thick muscular legs.
I turn to Teague. “My mate.” I test the words out on my tongue, kind of liking the bold claim. Shirtless, of course, his back glistens in the morning sun. I wipe the imaginary drool off my lips. They should both be illegal.
Shifting from one foot to the other, I try to imagine Teague and I together.
His mouth on me, tasting and licking. My hands running over his body, pulling him into me.
But every time I try, I see the two of us side by side and reality sets in.
My stomach clenches as I imagine his look of horror, or worse, disgust. Shivering, I cross my arms and hug them to my chest.
Teague stops exercising and glances up. His eyes darkened to almost a slate grey, he crooks a finger.
Swallowing, I step out. “Good morning. I was going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?”
Teague mutters something I can’t quite hear, but Macklin shakes his head and hops up. Towering over me, he lifts my face to the light, turning it one way, then the other. “Should never have happened.” He pauses. “If it had been anybody else…”
Teague snorts. “Just be glad you didn’t have to see her at the foot of the stairs with blood dripping down her face.” His hand clenches, as if the memory bothers him.
“Don’t remind me,” Macklin mutters. He steps closer and stares down at me, nostrils flaring.
Only inches away, I skim his muscular, sweaty body, fighting the urge to run my finger down the grooves of his massive, and very sculpted, biceps. I clench my thighs together.
Macklin draws in a deep breath. “Teague, why don’t you go get us some coffee?”
Teague murmurs. “Does that mean you’re tired of waiting?”
Waiting for what?
Macklin closes his eyes and pivots toward the railing. “No, damn it. I’m going to grab a shower and call Maureen.”
“I think you’re making up excuses,” Teague tells him. “What are you afraid of?”
Macklin stiffens. “Always pushing, aren’t you? Leave it alone.”
Teague links my hand with his and pulls me to the door. “Come on. Let’s go figure out how to make you the best Campfire coffee.”
I glance over my shoulder and see Macklin staring at me, a faint glow in his intense deep blue eyes.
Teague calls out softly, “Still want that coffee?”
I swivel my head around and blush, embarrassed to be caught staring at Macklin. “Absolutely.”
An hour later, I’ve come to one conclusion.
Teague’s a bad teacher. He hates to read instructions.
And if it weren’t for my desperate need for coffee, he would have given up in the first ten minutes.
Once I threatened to go to the coffee shop and get my own, he settled down and watched a video, then made me the coffee I’m currently sipping.
I blow on the steaming liquid, then take a tentative sip. Surprised, I look up. “It’s good. Might even be better than the coffee shop.” I hold the cup out to him, and he takes a drink.
“That is good,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “I did mention I’m impatient, right?”
I blink. “Guess you’re not perfect after all.”
His smile slips. “Far from it. Don’t put me on a pedestal. Believe me, I don’t deserve it.” He looks away as if he doesn’t want me to see his flaws.
“No pedestal. Got it. Although you did make me a perfect cup of coffee,” I tease. “And I wrote down the steps so I can make it too. Mmm. Coffee in my pajamas.”
He tilts his head and studies me with a speculative gleam. “How about dinner? Tonight? You and me.”
I freeze, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. Seconds tick by. I want to. I do. Why does it feel like I’m going to throw up?
Clearing his throat, he smiles. “If you’re not ready, I’ll wait. Why don’t I go grab a shower and see if Macklin got a hold of Maureen.”
“I’ve never been on a date,” I blurt, and immediately want to smack myself in the face. In college I mostly hung out with the group. At his incredulous look, I drop my gaze to the frothy milk topping my coffee.
He reaches out a single finger and lifts my chin. “Is it wrong for me to be so fucking happy to be the first?”
“You don’t mind?” I ask, searching his eyes for the truth. I’m sure he’s been out with a lot of stunning women.
“Mind? To know some asshole hasn’t stared into your stunning green eyes and held your hand over a candlelit dinner? Or stolen kisses in a dark movie theatre? Or watched the stars from a rooftop? Hell no.”
My lips curve. “Then it’s a date.”
He dips his head and places a tender kiss on my cheek. “Pick you up at seven.”
Macklin texts to let me know that Maureen wants to meet, and he’ll pick me up in an hour.
I rush into my bedroom and stare at the meager pile of clothes.
What do you wear to meet a witch? Not leggings.
And I’m kind of sick of my work pants. That leaves me with jeans or a pair of khaki pants.
Worried the jeans might be too casual, I grab the khakis along with a blue long-sleeved T-shirt.
I head into the bathroom and grimace. Going to bed with wet hair is always a bad idea.
After plugging in my flat iron, I peer into my make-up bag, trying to figure out if I have anything to hide the bruises starting to appear on my forehead.
Tinted moisturizer isn’t going to cut it.
I dig through the motley pile and pull out an old compact with a scrap of powder in it. This will have to do.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m in the kitchen, eating half of a protein bar. I jump at the knock on the door and open it to find Macklin standing there in jeans and a navy henley that brings out his eyes.
I swallow the bite in my mouth. “Let me brush my teeth and grab my coat.”
He leans against the doorframe. “Take your time. I have a bad habit of being early.”
Not wanting to shut the door in his face, I stop by the kitchen and wrap up the remaining bar, then toss it in the fridge. A couple minutes later, I’m standing in front of him.
He straightens, takes my coat from me, and holds it open. “Teague made me promise to have you back early so you can get ready for your date.”
My smile fades. I didn’t ask him where we’re going. Does he expect me to dress up for our date? I only own two dresses. One is a summer maxi, and the other is the black dress I wore to Cara’s funeral.
Macklin’s eyes narrow. “Do you not want to go on a date with him?”
“Do you know where he’s taking me?”
“Dinner at The Fork,” Macklin informs me. “It’s a bit dressy, which is why Teague asked me to take you to Victoria’s this afternoon.”
Relieved, I nod. Her thrift store is perfect. There’s nothing dressy in my closet, but there’s also not much in my bank account yet. “I’m sure she’ll have something.”
“I’m parked in the garage,” he informs me, pulling my door shut and testing the handle to make sure it’s locked. He places his large palm lightly on the center of my back and guides me to the elevator.
My breath freezes in my lungs as I wait for his hand to trigger me, but surprisingly, it doesn’t happen. I slowly exhale. Maybe because something deep inside me knows he’d never hurt me.
In the garage, he points to the black Ford F-150 XLT in the back. “We’ll take the truck. Would you like help up?”
I shake my head and place my foot on the running board, then hop up and grab the handle. He closes the door and a minute later, we’re pulling out of the garage.
“Maureen’s going to meet us at the apothecary.”
“Victoria’s friend Joy said she owned the apothecary. Told me her friend, Clarissa, is a witch.” It’s weird to hear witch come out of my mouth so easily.
“Joy’s a wolf shifter,” he informs me, turning onto Main Street. “Clarissa leads the coven, which is why Maureen wants to meet there.”
I rub my clammy palms on my pants. “What’s an apothecary?”
“Conventional medicine doesn’t work on most supernaturals,” he explains. “Apothecaries stock potions, spells, tinctures, and various other types of medicines and cures.”
“There’s so much to learn,” I say, a little overwhelmed by it all.
“Plenty of time,” he remarks with a nonchalant shrug.
He turns into a small parking lot next to a large brick building and shuts off the engine, then looks at me.
“If they do anything that makes you uncomfortable, we’ll leave, okay?
” I nod. “All you have to do is tug on your ear. Leave the rest up to me.”
“Okay.” I reach for the door handle, but he taps me on my knee.
“I’ll get it,” he reminds me, stepping out and coming around to the other side. His hand cups my elbow as I step down onto the running board, then the asphalt.
With his hand on my back, he leads us around the truck to the first shop where “Apothecary” is stenciled on the glass door.
A bell rings when we enter.
“Hello,” Joy calls, as she strides up from the back. When she sees me, her eyes drift to Macklin, a worried expression on her face. “Maureen and Clarissa are waiting for you in the back.”
“Thanks,” Macklin tells her. “Also, MacKenzie wants us to pick up a treatment.”
Joy grabs a piece of paper. “She already called it in. I’ll have it ready.”
I raise a hand. “Also, um, Raine said you could get me a lodestone like hers?”
Her eyebrow rises, and she jots down a note. “I think we have one that’s similar. Let me check.” She motions for us to follow her through a black curtain to a large room in the back. “Maureen and Clarissa are in here.”
Nervous, I reach for Macklin, and he tucks me into his side. “Tug on my ear, right?”