Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Evie
“I can’t believe you talked me into still going to the Pumpkin Festival when someone is actively trying to steal my family’s heirloom wand.
” I glare over at Liam, the swirled cake balanced in my lap.
He drives with one hand resting on the stick shift and the other on the wheel, the windows down to let in the cool autumn breeze as we make the short drive downtown.
But there’s no fight in my words. Not after I slept better last night than I have in years.
Heat blossoms between my legs, and I press my thighs together.
“The wand will be fine for today. Your aunties are there protecting it, and everybody will be at the festival. We don’t want to raise suspicion by not being there.
Plus, we labored over making that cake. I’m not going to let it go unjudged.
” He reaches over and pats my thigh, his hand lingering before returning to the stick shift.
“You mean I labored over making the cake, and you licked the batter off the beaters when I made the frosting?” I manage breathlessly.
Not to mention, every minute I’m alone with Liam, I keep replaying the events from last night over and over in my head.
“I certainly remember licking frosting.” Liam chuckles as he turns down a narrow side street where cars are already parked, lined up a short walk from the main fair. “Cake on the dash.”
His hand slips under the hem of my skirt.
“Liam Ironwood! We are in the middle of town.” I squirm in my seat as he strokes me through my panties, my legs clamping around his fingers.
“I’ve got tinted windows, and no one is down this street. Open for me.”
My body obeys before my mind does. I lean forward and set the cake on the dashboard, my breath catching as he teases me, slipping a finger inside.
“You feel so good, a leannán,” he whispers.
Heat races through me at the sound of his voice. His touch leaves me trembling, every nerve stretched tighter with anticipation.
“Look at me.”
He adds a second finger and begins slowly pumping in and out of me. Heat floods my veins as his thumb circles my clit.
I lift my eyes to his.
“Liam, I’m going to come,” I moan, my hands gripping the leather seat.
His expression turns even darker.
“Don’t. Not until I tell you.” He slips in a third finger, curling them until I see stars.
“Liam, please.”
I struggle to get the words out, the anticipation building until I feel like I might shatter beneath his control.
“Please.”
My voice comes out breathless, barely more than a whisper.
He holds my gaze, completely unhurried, as if he can feel every last ounce of tension winding tighter inside me.
“Not yet.”
My head falls back against the seat with a frustrated groan.
“Look at me.”
I force my eyes open.
His expression is wickedly calm, and somehow that makes it worse.
“You’re going to listen to me,” he murmurs. “You’re going to wait.”
I nod, my fingers digging into the leather.
For a few agonizing seconds, neither of us moves.
Then his expression softens just enough to make my heart kick.
“Now.”
He curls his fingers, pressing right against a sensitive spot inside me.
The permission breaks whatever fragile control I have left. I gasp his name, the tension finally snapping as I surrender completely to the release I’ve been fighting to hold back.
Liam keeps me steady through it, murmuring against my ear until the last tremor fades.
When I finally manage to open my eyes, he’s watching me with a satisfied smile.
“Better?”
I stare at him, still trying to catch my breath.
“You are absolutely insufferable.”
His grin widens as he lifts his hand, giving me one last teasing look before bringing his fingers to his lips.
“Maybe, but you taste better than any frosting.”
He traces my lower lip with his finger, and I open my mouth, drawing him in and tasting myself.
“If you keep that up, we won’t last the day before I have to take you home.”
The nostalgia of the Pumpkin Festival sights, sounds, and smells hits me as we walk hand in hand toward the town square, the cake held carefully in its container.
“Well, Evie Hawthorne, it’s good to see you,” Chief Montgomery calls, waving from behind the counter of one of the festival tents. “Hello, Ironwood.”
I swear heat flushes from the tips of my toes to the tops of my ears. The police chief can probably tell by the guilty expression on my face what just transpired, but he only smiles as we approach.
“Montgomery.” Liam nods, and the two men exchange a knowing glance as the police chief glances down at our intertwined hands. “They have you working the festival?”
“Is it really work when you’re surrounded by all this great food and festivity?” He lets out a hearty laugh and claps Liam on the shoulder. “No, I’m just here to judge the pumpkin baking contest. What did you whip up this year, Evie? Your family’s pumpkin bread recipe?”
“It’s a cranberry-swirl pumpkin cake with cream cheese frosting. Same area as last year?”
“Yes, just put it over on the table and fill out this form so we know who it belongs to. The winner will be announced at sundown like usual.” Chief Montgomery pats his overly round belly. “You know me and cream cheese frosting. I can’t wait to try it.”
We wave goodbye and duck under the tent, where dozens of baked goods line the tables, from pies to blondies to cakes.
“Wow, you’ve got some tough competition.” Liam surveys the table, finding an empty space to set the cake while I fill out the competition form. “What does the winner get again?”
“What happened to ‘we,’ not ‘you’?” Grinning, I poke him in the chest with the blunt end of the pen.
Liam’s eyes flash golden before returning to their natural green.
“Stab me one more time and you’ll see what it gets you.”
“Is that a promise?” I wield the pen before me, fluttering my eyelashes.
Liam catches my chin in his hand, running his thumb along my bottom lip. Heat rushes between my thighs, taking me back to what happened in the car.
“I have a better idea. Let’s go on a hayride.” He releases my chin and plucks the pen from my fingers.
“Hayride?”
“Yes, they aren’t judging the pastries for several hours. It would be awkward to just stand here watching to see if anyone is acting suspicious.”
“Suddenly you’re an expert on the Pumpkin Festival?” I raise an eyebrow as I take his proffered hand and follow him from the pastry booth. We walk along the tents until we reach a beverage cart.
“One pumpkin chai latte and a spiced apple cider.” He pulls out his wallet and pays for the two drinks before handing me the tea.
“How did you—”
“I paid attention to what tea you had next to your French press in the kitchen.”
Soothing warmth seeps through the disposable cup as we continue past various stalls selling an assortment of handmade aprons, candles, herbs, and a dozen other items. At the end of the row, a few people from town mingle while waiting in line for the hayride.
Mr. Whitetanks has hitched three wagons, the backs piled with hay bales arranged as benches and covered with quilts, with two Clydesdales hooked up to each one.
“Do you really think the thief is someone blatantly walking around town?” I take a sip of my drink, relishing the sweet, warm, spicy concoction. While I love a good pumpkin spice latte, my weakness is pumpkin chai tea lattes.
“If I were the thief, I’d want to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, especially coming in at a time when strangers are normal.” He takes a deep swig of his cider before glancing over everyone milling between the tents. “That’s not to say they don’t already live in Pumpkin Hollow.”
“If it were someone who already lived here, why wouldn’t they go for the wand first?”
I look around at the people I know and the strangers I don’t, suddenly wary of who could be a friend and who could be the very thief we’re looking for.
A cool breeze blows, and despite my sweater dress, a chill runs through me, pulling my thoughts away from Liam’s case. He turns and wraps his free arm around my shoulders, drawing me close to his body as though he can read my thoughts.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without my own personal body heater once you go back home.”
“Maybe that’s my secret plan. Addict you to my supernatural shifter body heat to survive. It’s only going to get colder here once the snow falls.”
He glances up at the sky as though snowflakes might start falling at any moment.
While we’re in the Northeast, we rarely get flurries down in Pumpkin Hollow until mid-November.
“Come on, a leannán.” Liam offers me his hand and helps me into the back of the wagon before settling in next to me. No one else clambers in after us.
The horses take off, and I bump into Liam at the sudden movement, my hand splayed against his thigh.
“I’m sorry.” I start to pull away, but he wraps his arm around me, and I snuggle closer.
“I’m not.” He presses a gentle kiss to the top of my windblown hair, his other hand covering mine as the wagon starts down the street. “I love that the hayride gives you a tour around downtown, not just around a farmhouse.”
“You’ve been on one before?” I cock my head to peer up at him.
“A few times when I was a boy. We’d drive out and do the whole pumpkin patch, hayride, fall festival, but it was a lot less…
magical.” Liam twists in his seat, pointing at a witch walking down the street, a cat winding between her legs, then at Victor and Lizzy walking hand in hand along the sidewalk.
“We didn’t have monsters, witches, and shifters walking around in full daylight or broomstick racing. ”
“Well, where is the fun in that?” Henry’s familiar voice quips, and I turn to find him and Molly sitting on the bale of hay across from us, each holding a caramel apple on a stick.
“What are you two doing here?” My gaze flicks between them, baffled.
They’re barely translucent, maintaining more color in their forms than I’ve ever seen rather than their usual ghostly monotone.
“I’ve never seen hide nor hair of you or any of the other B&B resident ghosts outside the house. Can others see you?”
“Well, someone had to chaperone the two of you, keep you out of trouble.” Molly fans herself, a wide grin on her face as she glances down at my hand on Liam’s thigh.
“That still doesn’t explain how you are here. And where did you get those? How are you holding them without them falling to the ground? Why do you seem… solid?”
I refrain from reaching across to touch either of them to test my theory.
“Of course they can. How do you think we got these treats? We owe you, by the way. Henry took the money from the top drawer in your office.”
Henry throws Molly a glare before turning back to me.
“You don’t think we deserve to have a little fun too?” He takes a bite of the apple, and it disappears with a gulp. “It’s close to the full harvest moon. We’re tethered to the house, but you are practically the house.”
“So, when the two of you left and turned the corner, curiosity got the better of me, and I tried to follow you—” Molly brandishes her apple in the air.
“And it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to let Miss Molly here go off into town all by herself, nor let her go hungry when we haven’t eaten in over a century.”
“As our resident poltergeist, when have you ever done anything gentlemanly?” I arch an eyebrow at Henry.
“You have to admit, he’s pretty tame as far as poltergeists go, from what I’ve observed. More like a friendly neighborhood poltergeist.” Liam chuckles, but his fingers tighten against my side.
Chaperones indeed. So much for some pumpkin spice alone time.
“Is that a Spider-Man joke?” I squeeze my thighs together, trying to ignore the way the gentle thrum of Liam’s fingers along my ribs is turning my insides to molten gold.
“What’s a Spider-Man? Is that some sort of new shifter?” Molly leans forward.
“It’s—never mind.”
I’m not about to explain the concept of imaginary superheroes to a century-old pair of ghosts when real monsters exist.
“So, someone is looking to steal the Hawthorne wand?” Henry asks, leaning back as he finishes off the rest of the apple. It disappears as though it never existed at all, and he tosses the stick into the small paper-bag wastebasket at the back of the wagon.
“How did you know about that?”
And if Henry knows, who else does besides the aunties?
“Evie, don’t be dense. You own a house full of ghosts. We get bored after a few decades.” He gives me a knowing wink, and my whole face flushes.
What did they witness last night? Is this why Mom and Dad eventually bought a house down the street?
“But you need not worry. No one is going to steal our precious wand. You’ve got me guarding the house.” Henry flexes his hand before draping it over Molly’s shoulders.
She huffs and shoves him, sending him tumbling into the loose hay at our feet.
“You aren’t protecting anything or anyone but the precious whiskey storage. Thankfully, Miss Evie has Liam as well as the rest of us at her back.” She snubs Henry and turns back toward the two of us.
I glance up at Liam just as the wagon pulls to a stop.
It might be to our advantage, though, having a security system that doesn’t sleep. Even Nutmeg can’t be awake at all hours.