Chapter Twelve

Waking up with Layla in his arms made Quin want to quit his job, but he knew she’d never let him. Just as well; there was something he needed to do, some unfinished business to deal with – an unpleasant task at best, one he’d rather skip, but that wasn’t the way he did things, so he’d man up and get it over with.

There was also the fact that he worked with his parents and didn’t want to leave them in a lurch. They had three construction projects scheduled that week – easy tasks, but ones he would need to be there for.

He mind searched Cinnia, who was more than happy to share her coffee. Then he looked down, watching Layla’s aura serenely swirl.

“Layla Love,” he whispered, and her fingers curled, dragging nails down his chest. “I love waking up with you.”

Her breathing quickened as her aura pulsed with a variety of emotions. Bright yellow was abundant, as was the very shiny and substantial dark brown. His eye color almost appeared black in her aura, and it was the most beautiful hue in the hazy rainbow. Quin had always considered his eye color mundane, but on seeing it in her aura, he gained a new respect for it. She made it look lovely by casting it with a purity and brightness that surpassed every other hue. Dotted with tiny, pulsating stars, the espresso river swam through spirals of silver ribbons, and its current hugged her body, never straying too far from her heart. Quin had never seen an aura like hers. It amazed him every time he looked at it, but he was careful not to react since the exposure made her uncomfortable.

But not as uncomfortable as she is now, he thought, watching the colorful haze turn inward, like it wanted nothing more than to melt into her skin. Quin wasn’t used to seeing such things in witches, but he knew exactly what it meant. She was mortified. The flesh where her blushing cheek lay grew hot, and he tightened his hug, at a loss for words that might make her feel better.

Mortified couldn’t begin to describe how Layla felt.

As she lay in the most heavenly place on earth, red-faced and full of regret, she was far beyond embarrassed. She’d fallen asleep on him.

Well, the least she could do was show her appreciation now. But how was she supposed to do that? Thank you wouldn’t cut it. She was clueless. And if she didn’t respond soon, he would feel like he needed to reassure her, which was the last thing she wanted.

She took a calming breath, magicked her teeth clean then smiled up at him. “Good morning.”

“Hey, beautiful. It’s good to see your smile.”

“You, too. Sorry I fell asleep . . .” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologize. I fell asleep, too.”

She smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Before or after I did?”

“After.” He pulled her up his body and laid her head on his pillow. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well. You?”

“Yes, better than I have in . . .” He grinned and tilted his head. “. . . ever.”

“Me, too, Quin. Last night was . . . it was . . .” Damn it, Layla, get a grip. “It was beyond amazing.” 

This time she kissed him, and she didn’t kiss him softly. She kissed him deeply while pressing her body to his. He was stunned at first, but quickly got over it, taking her face in both hands as he kissed her back. When they broke apart, they stayed close, smiling as they gasped for air.

“Well,” he breathed, “this is a good morning.”

She giggled and gave him another kiss. Then she rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, knowing he was watching her go.

Once her feet found smooth tiles, she closed the bathroom door and leaned against it, trying to clear her dizzy head. She could still feel the effects of his kiss.

Her stomach continually fluttered as she made herself somewhat presentable. Then she grabbed the doorknob, trying to act normal as she entered the room.

Quin sat in a chair by the coffee table, but stood when she walked in.

“You put your shirt back on,” she pouted, closing the distance between them.

His shirt vanished, and of course she flinched before laughing at her inability to adjust. “That’s better,” she approved, reaching for his pecs. Her palm found smooth warmth. Then her cheek found his heart. “You’ve spoiled me now. You can never wear a shirt again.”

He laughed as he ran a hand down her hair. “If you say so, but that whole no shoes, no shirt, no service thing will limit where I shop.”

“That’s okay. I’ll go in and get what you need.”

He pulled her tighter against him then vanished her tank top. “Now what will we do?” 

Layla had felt it immediately, as her chest was now pressed against rigid abs, but his firm hold prevented her from doing anything about it, so she tried to relax. “Guess we’ll have to shop at a nudist colony.”

“There you go,” he approved, spreading his palms across her back. “I have something for you.”

“Of course you do. You’re always spoiling me.”

A mug appeared a few feet away, hovering right in her line of sight, and her eyes widened on the steam curling toward the chandelier.

“Would you like a cup of Cinnia’s coffee?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered, stifling the urge to lick her lips.

“Take it,” he offered.

Keeping herself pressed against him, she reached for the cup, but it hovered a few inches beyond her fingertips. A second later, she figured out his game. “No fair,” she exclaimed, looking up to find a mischievous smile stretching from one dimple to the other. “You’re teasing an addict.”

His grin widened. “I know. Want it?”

“You know I do.”

“Then get it. I’ll let go.”

“I bet you will,” she murmured, raising a magical palm.

“Nuh-uh,” he countered, and the cup floated further away. “You have to walk over there and get it.”

“Oh yeah?” she returned, narrowing her eyes on the mug, but again, it floated further away.

“You’re only making it a longer walk,” he noted. Then he rubbed her back and kissed her head. “Does it really bother you that bad?”  

Layla found his eyes, knowing it shouldn’t bother her at all. He’d already seen her boobs and had kissed them, but in the light of day, none of that seemed to matter. Nevertheless, so she took a deep breath and a large step back.

A smile brightened his features as his gaze dropped to her chest, and heat rose from her toes to her nose, but she didn’t move toward her coffee or hide herself. She just stood there, being bold, ignoring her squirming stomach while offering him a nice, long look.

He didn’t take it, though. The moment he realized she wasn’t going anywhere, he raised his eyebrows and found her face. “You just made my day,” he whispered, pulling her into a hug. “Not only because your body is amazing, but because you trust me enough to let me look at it. Thank you.” He held out a hand, and her coffee zoomed into it. “Here. I can’t deny you a second longer.”

She took the cup then turned around, leaning into him as she sipped. “I don’t mind what you do with your hands, just don’t make me burn myself.”

His aura swelled around her. “I wouldn’t dare burn an angel.”

Layla relaxed and took another sip.

When her cup was half empty, Quin refilled it and kissed her head. “It’s time for me to go to work.”

“Oh,” she breathed, heart plummeting. Of course he had to go. He had a life, and it was Monday morning. He’d spent his entire weekend catering to her; now it was time to face reality. “Okay,” she agreed, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

“No,” she refused. “That would make me feel awful.” She turned toward him, forgetting she was exposed. “What time will you get home?” 

“Around five.” He took her mug and floated it to the table. Then he wrapped his hands around her waist, lifting her into a warm hug. “I’ll miss you while I’m gone.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” she whispered, burying her face in his neck.

He held her for several seconds, stroking and nuzzling her hair. Then he replaced their shirts and lowered her feet to the floor. “Is there anything I can get you before I go?”

“I’ll fend for myself. Thanks for the coffee.”

“My pleasure. Call Morrigan when you’re ready. I’m sure she and Daleen are impatiently waiting. I’ll see you this evening?”

Layla thought about telling him he didn’t have to come over if he had other things to do, but she selfishly nixed the idea. “Yes, please.”

He leaned in for a kiss then straightened. “Bye, Layla Love.”

Her heart rate quickened, and she wasn’t sure if the increase stemmed from the pleasure she got from him saying her name, the sensations he delivered with his kisses, or the dread she felt over him leaving.

She stood on her toes and took the back of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss. “Bye, Quinlan Farrel,” she mumbled into him. Then she quickly let go. If she didn’t do it fast, she might not do it at all. “Have a good day.”

“You, too,” he returned, smiling as he ran a thumb over her pout. Then he dropped his hand and left the room.

Layla stood still, listening to the front door close as unease washed over her, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. “Good,” she approved, grabbing her coffee. It would not do to sit around and fret all day, just waiting for him to return. 

She walked to the living room and found her phone. No missed calls, and it was only nine in Oklahoma, so she decided to wait to call Travis.

Instead, she dialed Gerald Greene’s number. His secretary answered and transferred the call, and Layla listened to hold music as she checked out the spare bathroom. Though it wasn’t as fancy as the master bathroom, it was nice and roomy with a shower and tub.

“Layla?” Gerald answered, sounding pleased.

“Hey,” she returned.

“How are you, dear? Settling in up there?”

“A little. Still adjusting.”

“Well sure. It was a big move.”

“Bigger than big,” she confirmed. “I’m calling because my old house burned down.”

“You heard about that, huh? I tried to call yesterday, but I couldn’t get through, and I didn’t want to leave the news on your voicemail.”

“That’s fine. A friend told me. So what’s next? Do we need to file an insurance claim?”

“Yes. I’ve already gone over your policy and everything looks in order, but you’ll need to sign the paperwork before we can finalize the claim.”

“Okay. I don’t have an address yet, but as soon as I get one, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, dear. Or we could fax it. Whatever works for you.” There was a moment of silence. Then he spoke again. “There’s something else I need to speak with you about.”

“Sure,” she agreed, smelling a bouquet of roses on the vanity.

“A man came to my office yesterday asking questions about you,” Gerald went on.

“Oh yeah?” she asked. “Who?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me his name.”

“What did he look like?”

“Very strange. Older man, around forty or so, and as intimidating as all get out. He was at least a foot taller than me and built like a bull, and he had long red hair and yellow eyes, like a cat’s. Does that sound like someone you know?”

Layla’s stomach knotted. The description of the visitor reminded her of the small glimpse she’d gotten of the magical world. Witches and wizards tended to have unusual looks, and long red hair and yellow eyes definitely fit the bill. “No. I don’t know anyone like that. What did he want?”

“He wanted to know where you’d moved; claims he has important business with you.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Absolutely not, dear. He wasn’t too happy about it either, looked like he wanted to throw a punch. But he just turned around and walked away, didn’t even press the issue.”

“Hmm . . .” she mumbled, leaning against the counter.

“I hate to ask this,” Gerald continued, “but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t. Are you hiding from some kind of debt, or running away from illegal dealings of some sort? Something that would have powerful people looking for you? Because I’m telling you, Layla, this guy could have been a hit man for the mob. You just don’t see people like him around here.”

“No,” she answered. “I’m not running from anything.”

“If you’re in trouble, Layla, I can help.”

“I swear, Gerald. I don’t owe anybody any money, and I’ve never been involved in anything illegal. I have no idea who that guy is or why he’s looking for me.” She paused, realizing Gerald’s safety could be at risk. “He sounds dangerous, though. You should alert the police, have them put a patrol car in the parking lot.” Not that the police could do a damn thing if there was a magician looking for her, but the wizard might think twice about harming Gerald if lawful eyes were on him.

“I’ll consider that,” Gerald replied, “but I’m more worried about you. There are other ways of locating you, easier ways. Maybe you should alert the Portland police.”

“Maybe.” She’d be alerting someone all right, but it wouldn’t be the police. “Will you call me if he comes back?”

“Of course. And you let me know when you get an address.”

“Right. Thanks.”

“No problem, Layla. Take care now.”

“I will. Bye.”

Layla hung up and stared at the phone. She’d lived in Gander Creek for eighteen years without anything odd happening. Now places were burning and strange people were asking questions concerning her whereabouts.

“Hmm . . .” She definitely needed to let her grandparents know, but first she wanted to check out the rest of the house, so she left the bathroom and headed further down the hall.

Only one door remained before the stairs – on the same side of the hall as the master bedroom. Layla reached for the shiny, silver knob and pushed, expecting a closet or a spare bedroom. What she didn’t expect was a vacant chamber with white walls, bare wooden floors, and no furniture, not even a curtain. Odd considering the other rooms were very detailed in their décor. At first Layla couldn’t imagine why her parents hadn’t put themselves into this room as well. Then it slapped her across the face – the room was meant to be a nursery. She stumbled backward and quickly closed the door, deciding she wouldn’t be returning to that room anytime soon.

Shaking the sorrow away, she climbed the stairs to the second level, finding three doors to choose from – one immediately to her right, which she assumed led to the turret room; and two down the hall, directly across from each other. Wanting to save the turret room for last, she headed for the others. 

The door on the left was another bathroom, much like the guest bath downstairs, and the door on the right opened to a guestroom with a cottage motif. The colors were much softer than the blue and green palette splashing the master bedroom, and the frames on these walls held landscapes instead of erotic art, but the two rooms were similar in size, and both boasted large furniture and a sitting area by the window.

After taking in the details, Layla closed the door and headed for the turret room, climbing a narrow flight of spiral stairs to the highest point in the house. As she rounded the last turn and entered the circular chamber, rainbows dazzled her eyes, flashing through various gemstones that hung from the domed ceiling by fine silver thread.

The bright, airy room was much bigger than she thought it would be, and far more beautiful than she imagined. Two tall windows faced the east and west, and the ceiling had a skylight, illuminating the room for as long as the sun kissed the sky. Composed of pale planks of weathered wood, the floor had a white area rug spread beneath a curved white sofa and a round driftwood table, which held a vase of blue and green roses. Near the western window sat an easel and painting supplies, while the eastern window poured light on an acoustic guitar and a wooden stool.

Layla’s eyes had adjusted to the light, so she set her phone and coffee aside and moved to the eastern window, getting her first sunlit view of the coven’s lawn. The green grass and pristine houses sparkled with dew, and the gardens stretched for the rising sun.

“Wow,” she breathed, taking a moment to memorize the magical landscape.

Once she could close her eyes and still see the view, she moved to the western window, where she found another breathtaking vista – clusters of trees so tall and packed together so tightly, she couldn’t see ten feet into them or an inch of sky above them. Peaceful yet powerful, the vast stretch of nature gave her a tingly feeling in her tummy.

She walked to the guitar and pulled it from its carved, wooden stand. She loved the acoustic guitar as much as she loved the piano. Had she not been swamped with extracurricular activities growing up, she would have learned to play. As she ran a hand down the guitar’s polished neck, she wondered if it had belonged to her mom or her dad. Neither of them had played in the memories, but both had been musically inclined.

Taking a seat on the stool, she propped the guitar on her lap, deciding by its size that it must have been her dad’s. She strummed, pressed a few strings then strummed again. Maybe she’d learn to play after all. What else did she have to do?

“Magic,” she exclaimed, popping her head up. That’s what she’d do.