“Can they keep you safe?” Camber squeezed hard. “Don’t risk it if they can’t protect you.”
“I owe it to any future victims to try.” That much was the truth. “Nothing is decided yet.”
“You’re considering it, though.” Camber straightened her shoulders. “We can take care of the store.”
“That’s what you mean.” Arden clued in after her friend. “You’re going away.”
“Not forever.” I dropped their hands and pulled them in for a hug. “Not for long, I hope.”
“We’ll support your decision,” Camber vowed. “We can bring in Gran to help if we need extra hands.”
Miss Dotha wasn’t a witch, but she and Camber came from them. So did Arden’s people for that matter.
The girls were human, but that drop or two of distant witch blood made them compatible with what our store made and sold. Miss Dotha wasn’t interested in a full-time job, but she pitched in when I left town.
Every year, I closed shop for a whole week to take Colby somewhere new. Vacations were new for me—it wasn’t a thing my family had ever done—and I had grown to love our annual girls-only adventure.
“I would appreciate that.” I turned them loose. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”
“You can count on us.” Arden found her smile. “We’ve got your back.”
A grin curving her lips, Camber leaned in. “Does this mean the scorching hot guy isn’t bad news?”
“I didn’t say that.” I wasn’t sure what to think of him. “Plus, he’s too old for you.”
With his heritage, he was likely near or past the century mark. For him to have attracted the attention of Black Hat, and gotten recruited, he must be powerful…and dangerous. Agents fit a certain, lethal profile.
“Age is just a number,” she countered. “I’m legal.”
“Nineteen is barely legal.”
“I’ll be twenty in three months.”
“He’ll be gone tomorrow.”
A knock on the front door sent Arden scurrying to answer, figuring it must be one of our regulars.
Not five seconds later, she scurried right back, hiccupping so hard she couldn’t get out the message.
“He’s baaack,” Camber teased. “Are you sure I can’t have him?”
“Ask your gran that.” I bared my teeth at her. “I dare you.”
Anyone who knew my history would have shivered at the display, but these girls only saw a smile.
“I better go see what he wants.” A half hour between visits was borderline stalking. “Be right back.”
On my way to the front, I enjoyed the view far too much. I wished I could blame the uptick of my breath on the cloud of teen girl pheromones I left in the office, but I worried the warmth in my belly was on me.
Yet another downside to my cover story. Men in town either revered me like the Virgin Mary for my past or avoided me like my emotional baggage might leap into their trunk if they so much as smiled at me.
For the most part, it was a good thing. Celibacy kept men out of my house and out of my life.
Ourlives.
I didn’t want a relationship, and vibrators made choosing the perfect man easier than going around asking for a peek in your date’s pants before you made it to the restaurant.
But the fact I was now wondering about the fit of Asa’s pants was a bad sign.