Page 30 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

DRUNKEN DESIRES

Maggie

The next two days passed in a slow hum. I puttered around the house, finding new homes for old things—hanging tapestries, filling shelves, lining window sills with colored glass bottles, dragging furniture across creaky floors.

You know, settling in—or at least trying to.

I didn’t see Graham.

But I felt him.

Every morning, just before sunrise, I’d hear his old pickup cough to life at the end of the driveway, like it had been sitting there all night, keeping watch.

Every night, after the last porch light blinked out, I’d hear it pull in—the low rumble settling deep into the bones of the house—then cut off, like something I wasn’t supposed to notice.

I didn’t ask.

He didn’t tell me.

But if I thought too hard about him, I could still feel his body pressed up against mine at the range, steadying my arms like the world would have to get through him first.

No serial killers.

No hitmen.

No disgruntled ghosts.

I snuggled deeper into the double papasan, Chester already kneading biscuits against my stomach, a fuzzy blanket draped over both of us, and a family-sized bowl of chips cradled in my lap.

A rom-com was playing on the TV—the good kind, the kind with just enough kissing and terrible decision-making. Exactly what I needed.

The shrill ring of my phone nearly sent the chips flying.

I winced, fumbling for it with a wrist that still twinged from the range practice. Damn thing felt heavier than the gun.

Katie lit up the screen.

Like clockwork.

I hit speaker and flopped it onto my thigh. “Hey Kates, what’s up?”

Her voice cracked with determination.

“I’m breaking you out.”

I blinked at Chester. He blinked back.

“What?”

“We’re going out tonight,” she said, like it was already decided. “And you’re not bringing your babysitters.”

“Well, there’s not many left anyway,” I said, popping a chip into my mouth.

“What? Why?”

“Captain Nettles decided to pull back on surveillance. Just random check-ins now.”

I crunched another chip.

“Did they catch the guy or something?” she asked warily.

“Not that I’ve heard. But who in their right mind is going to attack someone guarded by twenty cops?” I shrugged even though she couldn’t see it.

Katie didn’t answer right away.

The pause stretched—and for a second, I swore the room got a little colder, like someone had cracked a window that wasn’t there.

“I don’t like it,” she said finally. “I guess I’ll just have to spend more time with you. Make sure you’re never alone.”

“Well, I think Graham’s been covering the night shift.”

I didn’t even try to sound casual.

“Huh?”

“Pretty sure he’s been camping out at the end of the driveway every night.”

Another pause.

I pictured the exact look on her face—the one with the raised eyebrow and shit-eating grin.

“I thought Nettles told him to lay off until he got cleared.”

“He did.”

Katie’s laugh practically vibrated through the phone.

“Maggie, he likes you. Like really likes you. No normal man voluntarily freezes his balls off just for ‘professional concern.’”

I stuffed another handful of chips into my mouth to avoid answering.

Do I mention the part where he practically melted my spine with a ‘good girl’ at the range? Pfft. And give her more ammunition. I think not.

Yeah, Katie was right—definitely not a professional concern.

“Come out with us tonight,” she pressed. “They’ve got a new DJ at Club Spade, half-price drinks, and maybe… you’ll find someone to, y’know… take the edge off.”

“I don’t know…”

It wasn’t that other men weren’t as good. It’s just that after Graham, they seemed like a side salad after someone offered you the perfect juicy steak.

“It’s time, Mags. You’re living like a hermit.”

“And proud of it,” I deadpanned.

“Oh please. You’re watching Disobedience alone and eating chips in a blanket nest. I’m your only hope.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Wear something hot. You never know who you might meet.”

I sighed. Her accuracy of my current setup told me she’d already learned my nightly routine of couch goblin in the short time we’d known each other.

And she was right. I needed to get out. I’d been here for almost two weeks now, and I still didn’t know the town.

“Fine. But if I end up in a bathroom stall texting you about how awkward I am, I’m blaming you. ”

Katie cackled. “You’ll survive. Probably.”

I tossed my phone onto the couch and nudged Chester’s fuzzy head. “Sorry to wreck your biscuit operation, buddy. Emergency wardrobe crisis.”

He meowed like he agreed—or maybe he just wanted another chip.

I pushed from the papasan and padded upstairs.

Halfway to the closet, a weird prickling sensation ran down my spine—like someone had just brushed past me on the stairs.

I froze.

Listened.

Nothing but the tick of the old hall clock by the balcony.

Still, I picked up the pace.

Maybe it was just nerves.

Or maybe Uncle Silas was still hanging around.

Either way, I needed a dress… and maybe an exorcism.

Graham

Nettles said it’d be good for PR. Sell a steak dinner, buy a date with a cop.

Harmless.

Bullshit.

But no good deed goes unpunished.

I was auctioned off like a bull at the 4H fair. Fitting, since this one treated me like one. Should’ve brought a damn leash.

I cut into my steak. It was tough and dry. This bitch better at least taste good. The steak—not Brittany—or maybe it was Tiffany. Hell if I remembered.

I took a bite.

Mediocre at best.

I chewed, swallowed, washed it down with a swig from the long neck.

“I just loooove places like Club Spade,” she chirped, spearing a tomato in her salad. “Have you ever been?”

I took another sip. That was the first time in the forty-five minutes we’d been here that she asked a single goddamn question about me.

“Once.” Another sip. “On a dare.” I lied.

She laughed like it was the best joke she’d ever heard. Heads turned. I shrunk.

It was either the volume of her laugh or the too strong perfume she’d drowned herself in that was giving me a migraine.

Nettles owed me big time for this.

It took everything in me not to bolt right then.

God, I missed silence. And carbs. And women who could actually eat a burger without announcing it like they’re climbing Everest.

“Take me.”

I nearly choked on the last bite of steak. “Excuse me?”

“Take me to Club Spade,” she said, her eyes all glassy—excited.

Club Spade. Yeah, that’s what I needed. More overpriced drinks, sweaty strangers, and some jackass grinding on me like he’s trying to start a fire.

I wiped my mouth with the corner of a paper-thin napkin and set it on my plate.

“Rain check,” I said, flashing her a grin that didn’t touch my eyes. “Gotta work in the morning.”

Total lie.

Her pout was instant, practiced. Probably worked on most guys. I wasn’t most guys. I was used to turning down women who wanted more from me.

“But you’re off duty,” she whined, dragging her straw between her teeth like she thought I’d think it was sexy. Jesus. I needed to get out of here before I committed a felony.

I flagged the waitress for the check, slid a few bills onto the table before the total even came, and stood.

Brittany/Tiffany—whatever the fuck her name was—touched my arm.

I was close to snapping, but I didn’t.

“Please.” She leaned in. “Just for a little while. I paid for a full evening, remember.” She pushed the cash back at me.

The things I did for this precinct.

Maybe another drink would numb the shit bubbling under my skin.

It’s just one night. Get in. Get out. Be done.

I sighed.

“Fine.”

She lit up like I’d just dropped to one knee with a damn ring.

I told myself it was just to shut her up.

One drink. One dance. Five minutes, max. Be civil. Smile. Bail.

Tonight was supposed to be easy. A steak. A drink. A bullshit date auctioned off for charity. And then maybe some quiet—parked at the end of Maggie’s driveway, where I could actually breathe.

Instead, I was stuck trying not to lose my mind every time her voice hit a new octave saying Spade like it was the second coming of Jesus Christ.

Auctioned off like a prime cut. Got stuck with a salad eater who couldn’t stop talking about herself. And now she thought we were gonna hit up Club Spade like prom dates?

Screw Nettles . Next time he needs a body for PR, he can ask one of the other ten in the calendar—or get his ass up there and strut it himself.

Maggie

Eight o’clock hit, and right on the dot, Derek’s black hatchback crunched into the driveway, packed with girls. Katie leapt out and met me on the front porch. I swore her boobs were going to beat her to me.

Her black dress was so tight you could see the shine of her nipple piercings through it.

Tight, strappy, sexy. If she were planning a wardrobe malfunction just to snag a date, I wouldn’t be surprised.

The dress was barely long enough to cover her ass when she stood, and there was a good chance someone was seeing her tits before the night was over.

She was practically daring gravity to flash us.

“Are you sure you’re not the one looking to get laid?” I said, eyeing her up and down, noting her six-inch platform heels.

“Of course I am, silly. I can always go for a good romp.” Katie tightened her high ponytail, the sparkling clips in her hair winking in the porch light.

She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to the car. “Now we just gotta find someone to rattle your cage!”

Oh god…

“Maggie, you look great!” Derek leaned over the front seat, arm braced against the wheel to get a better look at me.

My dress wasn’t nearly as revealing as Katie’s, but it hugged my curves in all the right places. I’ll admit it was short, but it showed just the right amount of cleavage, and enough shimmer to put a disco ball to shame.

Hopefully, I’d find someone looking for a dance or two, but my nerves were frazzled. I’d never been any good attracting a date without my magic. Besides, I’d promised myself no more selfish love spells—no matter how horny I became.

The five of us crammed into a booth at the club and ordered drinks.