EPILOGUE
FOR REAL THIS TIME
It was just past the lunchtime rush, and foot traffic was at its lightest on Kensington Square. Delivery trucks chugged their way down the side streets, and busy moms were doing last-minute errands before school let out.
I loved this area. Fall was in full swing, changing the park from lush green to leaves tipped in red and gold.
Japanese maples with their glossy purple leaves stood sentry along the sidewalk to prove the town could have beauty and commerce side by side.
The ever-changing storefronts dotted with crazy colors were jammed next to traditional mainstays like Connor’s Drugstore with its sturdy air of responsibility and Jimmy’s Pizza with its sharp, spicy sauce scenting the air.
Kensington Square was wild and messy, comforting and stable, city and town all at once. The perfect community. Now there was a new kid on the block, and I was heading his way.
The wind whipped my hair around. My boots clicked on the sidewalk, and a whiff of burning leaves mixed with the crisp cold air.
A few people bustled around me, huddled into sweaters and hoodies as they hurried into shops.
The sunny day had just enough bite to remind everyone of the brutal winter ahead.
I preferred to embrace autumn’s changeable whims.
I hugged my future against my chest, along with a little something for my resident sweet tooth.
Ahead, a small black and red sign stuck out from the freshly whitewashed brick building. We’d fought over the spray gun last weekend while painting the building he’d bought.
Bought, for goddess’s sake.
Normal people rented space in Kensington Square, but not my guy. Nope. He’d bought the building and jumped headlong into renovating it. I hadn’t even known he knew how to use a hammer.
Then again, was there really anything PMS couldn’t do?
He got me to date him, didn’t he?
Date. Ha.
There was no dating that man. I’d been assimilated. I should hate it. In fact, I should be running the other way. Instead, here I was, in front of that little red sign that read: Preston M. Shaw, Esq. Family Law. est. 2021.
He’d actually done it.
He had told me he was leaving his family’s law firm, but I hadn’t really believed he would actually take the leap. Even more, he’d gone after what made him happy. He’d made me believe in stepping out of my own box. One I hadn’t even known I was trapped in.
A witch who believed in fate and the universe as the cornerstones of my practice never actually put those things to the test.
I’d used it as a cloak. A sparkly one disguised as giving myself to my clients and my community through podcasting and social media. Dishing out advice and words of wisdom about doing the work to heal when in reality, I’d used them as a buffer.
I could dish it out, but I really sucked at doing my own work. I focused on external gratification instead of looking within to figure out exactly what I needed.
I’d never truly believed in anything until Preston.
I turned toward the wide window framed in glossy black paint. PMS was pacing the length of his office while speaking on the phone. He’d lost his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves over his delicious forearms, leaving him in one of his vests that drove me crazy.
However, there was one distinct difference. He may have appeared a little harried, but excitement crackled around him. I didn’t have to hear the conversation to know he was drilling point after point into some poor person’s ear.
Fighting the good fight for a client he truly cared about.
He ripped at his tie, loosening the red silk as he hung up the phone but kept speaking as he flipped through papers on his desk. Speaker phone. Whomever was on the other end of that call was in serious trouble.
I was aware I drew a perverted pleasure from seeing PMS riled up. I was good with it.
Grinning, I ran up the three steps. I tapped on the tiny key and bells I’d hidden in the wreath on his steel-enforced red door for a little added protection and to dispel any negative energy hanging around.
I’d also painted sigils into the doorways as well.
Most people wouldn’t notice them since I painted black on black, but family law came with a lot of high emotion and I liked to give him as much of a leg up as possible.
It also let other witches know this was a safe space. A few friends from Luna Falls had already sent people his way who were in need of a sharp lawyer.
I slipped inside to see Preston with his knuckles planted on his desk as he loomed over his phone. “I don’t care if the judge is on the back nine talking to the President of the United freaking States. I want that child out of protective services and with his mother by tonight.”
The voice on the other side of the line sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”
A little shiver skated down my spine at the power in his voice. I unzipped my jacket, but had to adjust it to cover my chest so he didn’t see the headlight action I had going on. Or the fact that I may have stolen one of his shirts again.
I couldn’t help myself. I was getting addicted to the finery, and filching clothes from his closet was becoming a habit. I also didn’t mind that he liked to steal them back—off my person.
He looked up from the desk, and his eyes had that far-off look like when he was in full-on lawyer mode. His brain was in overdrive as he tried to puzzle out whatever problem he was facing. But then his quick smile dispelled all that crackling energy.
Too bad.
“Miss Moon, did you come bearing gifts?” He came around his desk, those long legs eating up the hardwood floors so he could reach for my box of donuts.
“The romance is over—” I yelped as he dropped the box, as well as my other gift, on the U-shaped chairs we’d purchased from Kinleigh’s Attic. Before I had a second to react, he hauled me up on my toes for a hot kiss. When my brain came back online, I settled my hands on his chest. “Well, hello.”
“You are exactly what I needed this afternoon, Moonbeam.” He grinned down at me.
The whole tie askew thing was going to be the death of me. I stroked my hand down the red silk. “Hard day, dear?”
His eyes went all smoldery. “I was worried I wouldn’t have anything to do on my first day, but it’s been non-stop calls. I’m trying to find an assistant, but they’re all inadequate.”
“All of them?”
He slipped his hands under my jacket. “None of them are you, Miss Moon.” He frowned. “Wait, is that my shirt?”
“Maybe.”
“You know the rule when you wear my clothes.”
“I wear your clothes almost every morning,” I reminded him.
“And I usually take them off then too.” He pushed my jacket off and tossed it on the chair as well. Then he groaned when he got a better look. “Did you forget a few buttons?”
I glanced down at where his fingers were. “Will you look at that?” The charcoal shirt was open with a sheer black tank under it. And because it was so long, I’d added a thin black belt around my middle.
He dragged the backs of his knuckles over my very braless state. He parted the shirt with a groan. “My shirt has never looked so good.”
My lips twitched. “You don’t have your back office set up yet, sir.”
He traced the pad of his finger around one tight nipple. “I don’t care. Your breasts are a miracle.”
I swallowed a laugh. “That’s a helluva big window. I don’t think that’s exactly the way you want to drum up new business.” I gave a throaty laugh as he picked me up to scrape his teeth over my lower lip.
I leaned in to deepen the contact. Coffee and caramel-flavored kisses were my favorite.
While he was still holding me, he strode to the door and locked it.
I gripped his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his waist. “PMS, it’s the middle of the workday.” I put a little extra breathy Marilyn in my voice.
“We have yet to christen this space, Miss Moon.”
I should not still get chills when he used Miss Moon. “Um, we most certainly did. When we put up the drywall, when we painted, when we put together the bookcases.” I punctuated each instance with a kiss on his very stubborn, very delicious mouth.
He gripped my ass and pressed me up against the little alcove-slash-vestibule. If one could call it a vestibule when the space was about three square feet. “It doesn’t count until opening day.”
“Is that right? I hadn’t heard that rule.” My words came out with a groan as he attacked my neck. Goddess, where did he learn how to do that?
He tipped his hips, and the very hard length of him tucked itself right where I liked him best. He caught my mouth in a long, slow kiss and rocked against me, then fumbled along the wall with one arm.
“What are you doing?” I asked against his lips.
He shimmied us to the left, and then a shade started coming down over the large picture window.
“Well, isn’t that clever?”
“I’m a clever man.”
“Leave a little sunshine. I like it on my skin.”
“You’re going to be the death of me.” But he stopped the motorized shade a few inches from the bottom before he gripped my ass. “I like this skirt thing. Doesn’t really seem your style.”
“Stole it from Luna. The waistband didn’t fit, and she was trying to throw everything out in a tantrum. I knew she’d miss it though.”
“Her loss is my gain.”
The leopard print, ankle-length skirt swished behind me as he carried me back into the main part of the office. Eventually, this space would be the front office and Preston’s space would be at the back, but we had more sheetrocking to do and he was impatient to open.
He set me on his desk, shoving the blotter, phone, and files aside to make room.
I went for his belt, and he did the same for mine. We were both laughing and tripping over each other’s fingers until we finally both switched to undoing our own.
He pushed his shirt over my shoulders, then bent his head to my breast, sucking my nipple through the sheer fabric. I raked my nails along his scalp to cup the back of his head.