.5 To Have and To Code (23 page)

It was hard to hide at a wedding—all the good spots had already been taken by terrified bachelors looking to evade the hordes of women inspired by harp music, lofty promises, and flowery perfume.

Either that, or someone had spiked the punch.

The harp music had actually been pretty funny.  For about ninety seconds as Sammy walked down the aisle, the wedding audience had divided sharply into those oohing and aahing, and those trying not to laugh at the melodious sounds of Bobby McFerrin rendered on a harp.

Judging from the bride’s wink and grin,
Don’t Worry, Be Happy
had been her choice.

“Chips?” TJ pulled a monster bag out of his pocket and offered it to the other bachelor refugees behind the potted plant.  A couple of ten-year-old boys looked relieved—clearly they’d gone into hiding before the food had been wheeled out.

Then again, the food had probably been worth missing.  The groom’s family had taken one look at the soggy steak and opted for salad, much to the confusion of Sammy’s vegetarian parents.  Only in California could you throw a wedding with a bunch of lettuce-eating cowboys in attendance.

A dark-skinned man walked over and wiggled into their midst, looking relieved.  He held out a hand to Daniel.  “Hey.  We haven’t met yet.  I’m Govin.  Nell and TJ and I all used to be roommates until she abandoned us to our own cooking.”

Daniel missed most of the words.  He was far more focused on two salient points.  One, Govin’s fingers were unusually warm, just like Nell’s.  And two, he had the same look in his eyes as Nell’s brothers.

Damn.  Exactly how many protectors did one woman need?  He shook hands and raised an eyebrow.  “You guys all know she can take care of herself, right?  I’m pretty sure that if I mess with her, there won’t be much left of me for you to sizzle.”

Govin blinked in surprise—and TJ nearly busted a gut laughing.

Daniel eyed the big guy.  “And what kind of magic might you throw at me?”

“Math equations.”  TJ grinned.  “Of the entirely non-witchy variety.”

Algebra was probably a deadly weapon when wielded by someone who weighed three hundred pounds.  “Noted.  If I screw up, I’ll head out of town as fast as I can run.”

“You can try.”  TJ crunched and nodded in the general direction of the wedding reception.  “Caro’d probably track you down, though.  She’s old, cranky, and tough as nails.”

Daniel ran through his mental banks, trying to remember anyone who fit that description.

Govin chuckled and pointed.  “The woman sitting over there in the corner knitting.”

She looked about forty, with a gorgeous waterfall of long, black hair, and two small boys sitting in her lap.  He raised an eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut—he didn’t want to be evicted from the potted-plant sanctuary.

“Most people underestimate old librarians with tiny spell stashes, too,” said Govin, amused.

Daniel’s eyes snapped back to the man beside him.  That was gamer talk.  “You play in Realm?”

“Yup.  And worked.  Used to have your job.”

Ah, pieces were starting to slide together.  “The weather geeks.”  And Nell’s closest friend since childhood, if he’d read the tea leaves right.  Daniel eyed Govin.  Friend, or something more?

Dark brown eyes met his stare for several seconds—and then seemed to decide something.  “Nell belongs to a lot of us.  But until you broke into Realm and faced her down, I’d never seen the man I thought could be her equal.”

He’d been hiding behind a freaking bush.  “I’m not sure I’ve got anything to match lightning.”

“It’s not her magic that will be hardest to stand with,” said Govin softly, scanning the room.  “It’s what lives in her heart.”

That was cryptic—and felt far too much like the kind of dare Pedro had been tossing out lately.  “I’m just trying to help her out today.”

Govin smiled.  “I think your chance is coming.  The band’s about to start playing.”  His eyes sobered.  “Sammy will be with Shane.  Nell will need you now.”

Great.  A witch mystic.  But he probably wasn’t wrong.  Daniel gritted his teeth, ducked out from the safety of potted plants and confirmed bachelors, and tried to find the woman in peach.

Somewhere between wedding-train stuffing and the carnivorous plant, she’d become his team.

-o0o-

The sparks flying between Sammy and Shane should have set half the room on fire.  Nell felt it ping off all the mind-witch heads in the room.  And felt the shared love and delight they beamed back at the joyful newlyweds.

She did her part.  Until the moment Sammy left, she would keep getting it done.

And then she would dissolve.  But not until then.

The collective mind-witch consciousness also sent Nell gentle support—all she was able to handle.  And then, suddenly, they shifted.  Reactions ranged from uproarious laughter to jealousy, but they all had one thing in common.

Her face.  And a whole lot of the rest of her.  She turned, dumbfounded.

Daniel grinned, all sexy swagger.  “Caught that, did you?”

It was hard to miss her own curves, broadcast out to the mind-witch universe—dressed in sexy, fire-engine-red silk.  “Half the people here caught it.”  Well, probably only three or four, but in Witch Central, that was plenty.  Witches shared, and in this case, they would do so with gleeful pleasure.

“Well, at least they won’t be talking about the peach monstrosity.”  He looked entirely unrepentant.  “I figure if I’m going to dance with the sexiest woman in the room, the curtain needs to go.  At least in my head.”

She winced and resolved to not wear peach again in her natural life.  “Sammy’s mother’s maid of honor wore this dress at her wedding.”  And only the bonds of blood sisterhood and a truckload of cookies had gotten it on Nell’s body.

Daniel’s eyes twinkled.  “Want me to pour ketchup on it?”

No.  She wanted him to get back to red-silk fantasies.  No room for sadness in those.  Turning back to the dance floor, she imagined herself in slinky red.  Pushed it his direction.  And deeply enjoyed the feel of his brain melting behind her.

Let Witch Central chew on that.

They stepped onto the dance floor, some of Sammy’s favorite retro dance music coming over the airwaves.  Nell grinned.  Time to see if a certain gamer could jitterbug.

She poured her restless torrent of energy into the quick, playful moves—and shot Daniel a look that dared him to miss her mental red silk.

His eyes glazed with something that spoke to the fire in her veins.

Then, abruptly, the music changed.  Soft, sexy.  Dare in his eyes now, he held out his arms.  She stepped in, glorying in the heat and the charging intensity between them.

And then Sammy whirled by, wrapped up in the man she loved—and something in Nell broke.

Daniel’s arms changed instantly.  Pulled her in close.  Holding, protecting.  Offering a soft place to land.

The shudder came from deep in her soul.  Heat, she could handle.  Gentleness, no. 

Especially gentleness that promised a shoulder to lean on.  Today marked the end of Sammy’s shoulder in her daily life—and be damned if she was replacing it with the next one that was offered.  Her head was a mess, her heart was a wreck, and her own two feet were plenty capable of holding her up.

She pushed back from his chest and everything else he offered.  “I need you to go away now.”

Confusion flared in his eyes.  And as he surveyed her body language—anger.  “I’m not your puppet.  You only get to jerk my strings for so long.”

His message wouldn’t have been any clearer if he’d been wearing a Nobody Tells Me What to Do t-shirt.  Something inside her coiled, needing to lash out.  Prove him wrong, make him hurt.  She closed her eyes, trying to tamp it down.  “Just go, okay?  I can’t do this right now.”  In an hour or two, Sammy would leave.

A hand settled on her shoulder.  “You can and you will.  But you don’t need to do it alone.”

Her dikes barely held against his kindness. He understood far too much of the woman.  And not nearly enough of the witch.   She shrugged off his hand.  “Today I do.”

He watched her for a moment, a man able to see right through to her bones.  And then a light went out in his eyes.

Fracturing, she pulled on the fire that had been holding her up all day.  “Go away.  Come back in a couple of weeks.”  When the angry coil in her belly might not be so determined to find a target and her ocean of tears had been shed.  When she might have the strength to give him a chance.

“Weeks?”  He raised an eyebrow, voice quiet steel.  “I work with you, remember?”

For
her.  And right now, that mattered.  “Work from home.”

“No.”  His answer came quickly—and one step too late, she knew where it was headed.  “I know this is a really hard day for you, but find someone else to kick.  I quit.”

She watched him walk away—and discovered that her heart had a few drops left to bleed.

-o0o-

Oh, such pain.  Retha felt the tear streaks running down her daughter’s mind—and knew they’d never show on her face.

And then she saw another mind blind with pain and confusion.  Daniel.  Heading for the front door of the country club with the hounds of hell at his heels.

It wasn’t hard to read what had happened—his mind practically shoveled it into hers.

And with knowledge came sadness.  About to lose her best friend, whipped by the lashes of love, loyalty, and impending change, Nell had struck out.

Perhaps Daniel had simply been the nearest target.  Or perhaps he was the other threat to the stability of her daughter’s soul.

And Nell, fierce and brave, hadn’t been able to shift her heart fast enough.

Retha pushed away from the wall, knowing there were no Band-Aids big enough to staunch the bleeding.  And saw tough, no-nonsense Caro materialize at her daughter’s side.

It took a village to raise a witch—and a village to heal one.  Retha stepped back into the shadows, content to wait her turn.  And nursing her own hurts, she tucked away the always-bright image of the little boy who would one day call her Gramma.  For now, he would have to wait.

His parents needed time to find each other again first.

Part III:
Flames

Chapter 16

Somehow, even with evil peach dresses and inedible steaks, it had been the wedding of Sammy’s dreams.  Nell looked through the stack of photographs Aunt Jennie had delivered along with coffee, bagels, and a long, empathetic hug—and every picture of Sammy drove home the same message.

For her best friend, it had been a day of unparalleled joy.  And the tall cowboy who’d never left her side didn’t look too unhappy either.

Nell had to give Shane credit—in his own quiet way, he’d done an excellent job of shielding Sammy from the country-club culture that had tried to invade their day.  He’d pretended not to see the receiving line, eaten the groom’s head off the wedding cake topper to much shocked laughter, and led a Texas line dance to the strains of elegant classical music.

A silent and steadfast rebellion, aided and abetted by every denizen of Witch Central Nell had been able to sneak into the wedding.  Including the quartet’s lead violinist, who had come up with something to match the line dance that had dissolved every Texan present into uproarious laughter.

All Nell had been able to mindread from the chaos was something about guns, trucks, and chickens.

She flipped through the next pictures, more slowly now, trying to let the emotions they captured soothe the empty cavern in her heart.  They were stunningly beautiful photographs.  Not that she’d expected any less from a woman world famous for her portraits.  But as always, Aunt Jennie’s camera had seen far beyond the surfaces.

A time-frozen glance of the newlyweds and the deep love shining between them.  Nell hoped, some day, to be loved like that.  It was the only kind of love worth having.

Sammy’s mother, confused, sad, and trying to keep her public face a happy one.  Texas was far away, in more ways than one.

Jamie, Devin, and Matt, heads together in the kind of shared grin that always meant trouble.  Nell smiled and touched the photograph in thanks.  They’d done an excellent job bootlegging Sammy’s cookies all night long.  The lettuce-eating Texans had been wildly grateful and happily joined ranks in the bootlegging.

Apparently Texas cowboys had about the same love for rules as your average witch.

A picture of Sammy, caught in a quiet moment with Shane’s mother, made Nell’s eyes ache.  Mrs. Cowan was forthright, no-nonsense, and ruled her domain with a voice like a cowbell.  And she’d brought the only wedding present that had made Sammy cry.

Any woman who could brazenly walk into a country club holding a mangy mutt of a puppy in her arms might actually deserve the daughter-in-law she was getting.

Nell grimaced at the next picture.  The peach nightmare, documented for posterity.  Even in black and white, it was hideous.  She pulled it out of the pile.  Maybe Aunt Jennie could be bribed into accidentally losing the negative.

And then she saw it.  Tucked into the depths of the stack by an aunt who had earned her graduate degree in meddling before Nell was even born.