“Just so we’re clear?” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear before we head out the door. “If they give you any troubletonight, any at all, we walk.” He flashes his teeth in a teasing grin. “Or I shoot them. Your call.”
“Jax and I get along fine. He’s surprisingly more into romantic comedies than I am.”
“Figures. He always did have questionable taste in movies.” He shakes his head and follows me down the stairs.
When we get to the jeep he opens the door for me, helping me up, before reaching across to fasten my seatbelt then shut my door. He jogs around the front before climbing in and starting it. Putting it in gear, he glances over at me.
“You know, I think Jax is convinced your store is a satanic front for a sex dungeon.”
“He does not! He installed the security. He would have found a sex dungeon.” I slap his arm playfully, his teasing helping me to relax. “Honestly, that sounds more like wishful thinking coming from him.”
He laughs, the kind that lights up his eyes. He rubs the spot where I slapped him. “Oh, he absolutely does. The man won’t shut up about your ‘candles made of virgin tears’ or whatever the hell he thinks witches use.” He seems to think about it for a moment. “Which, for the record, please don’t tell me if that’s actually a thing.” The jeep rumbles as he pulls out onto the road. His free hand finds mine on my thigh, calloused fingers threading through mine like they belong there.
I shrug and look out the window. “Guess that depends on what you practice. I don’t carry anything like that but I’m sure I could find it if I needed to.”
His grip tightens fractionally for a moment, stealing a sideways glance at me before focusing back on the road. “You’re screwin’ with me, right? You’re not actually out there summonin’ demons into mugs and crap are you?” He pauses as he takes in my glare. “Oh for the love of... Don’t give me that look. I have aright to be skeptical of a woman who keeps a stock of ‘hex the patriarchy’ candles on hand at all times.”
“Those are just scented candles and they sell really well.” I roll my eyes at him, refusing to entertain the idea that I’m summoning demons. I carry all the things necessary to practice, but rarely ever do so myself. I don’t like making claims about who I am. Some may call me a witch but I just have beliefs that happen to follow the same lines as the things I sell.
He snorts, shaking his head while his thumb absently brushes over the back of my hand. “Sure, as innocent as those dried herbs you’ve got in those apothecary jars with the fancy labels. And the crystals and the moon water and all the rest of that woo-woo stuff.”
“Woo-woo stuff? Okay, Gryffindor. Keep it up and I’ll never tell you about sex-powered ritual spells.” I pull my hand out of his and cross my arms over my chest looking out the window in feigned irritation.
He barks out a laugh, loud and utterly delighted. He reaches over and grabs my knee, giving it a rough shake. “Oh, now we’re talkin’.” Realizing I’m not joking, he glances at me sideways. “Wait, was that an actual offer? Because I’ve got questions. Startin’ with when?” His voice turns playful as his fingers trail up my inner thigh.
“Never, if you keep being an ass about it,” I quip.
We pull into the parking lot. Jax and Bishop stand by the entrance to the restaurant, which is actually more of a bar.
He shuts off the engine and unfastens his seatbelt before catching my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. “Fine. But know I will be conductin’ my own research later.” He pulls me in for a quick kiss, nipping at my bottom lip before getting out of the jeep.
We walk up to Bishop and Jax. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side.
“Damn, Colson. She’s way too pretty for your ugly ass.” Bishop whistles. He’s an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and sharp hazel eyes that miss nothing. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking amused.
“She’s also smarter,” Jax adds dryly.
Griffin flips them both off.
“Jax, been awhile. Still pissy your hookups prefer their book boyfriends?” I tease him while moving in for a hug.
“First of all,” he scoffs, “ouch. Secondly, no one chooses fictional men over this.” He gestures to himself dramatically before grinning. “Unless we’re talking about that series where the guy has wings. Then, yeah fair.”
Bishop snorts and offers his hand in a gesture that is respectful and assessing. “Seriphina, right? Griffin hasn’t shut up about you since he dragged your ass into his safehouse.”
“Oh? And he had me convinced he barely talks about me at all.” I offer my hand, giving him my brightest smile.
“He doesn’t. Not willingly.” He jerks a thumb towards Jax. “But this one hacks into his texts like it’s his fucking hobby.”
The sound that comes from Griffin is halfway between exasperation and resignation. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Remind me again why I keep either of you around?”
Jax throws an arm over Griffin’s shoulders. “Because deep down in that blackened little heart of yours; you love us.”
Griffin shoves him off before nodding toward the restaurant. “Let’s get this shitshow over with so I can drink somethin’ strong enough to make me forget I ever heard that word come outta you.”
He holds the door open for me as we file in. The bar’s crowded for a Thursday night. But our table sits in the far corner and it’s away from the other patrons. A circular booth with plush, oversized leather seats. Griffin slides in next to me, thigh pressed against mine under the table, grounding me.
Jax flags down the waitress, a blonde woman in her early twenties who eyes our group with a mix of curiosity and interest. He flashes her a charming grin. “Whiskey. The good shit, not whatever you water down.”
