Page 8 of Love’s a Witch (The Scottish Charms #1)
CHAPTER FIVE Knox Douglas
I wasn’t sure what the MacGregor sisters were doing huddled in their car, which looked to have its bumper being held together by duct tape, but I could surmise pretty easily that there was a problem when it didn’t immediately start and leave the car park.
Slanting a glance up at the murky gray clouds and sleeting snow, I sighed and pulled my waxed canvas jacket on.
I’d taken a seat at the Rune & Rose, needing a moment to decompress with my mate Liam, who owned the place. He was as tall as I was, with lighter hair than me, and bright blue eyes that had melted more than one woman’s heart.
“How you getting on, then?” Liam nodded out the window toward the snow.
We’d known each other since after high school, and nothing had made me happier than when he’d decided to stay here and open his own pub.
His witchy-themed cocktails were infamous, and a huge draw for his clientele.
Even now, as he poured dry ice into a glass of gin, and the drink bubbled and steamed, his customers laughed and filmed the display for their social media.
His drinks were innovative, each one being named after a different type of magickal potion or a famous witch, like Isobel Gowdie, condemned to death in Scotland’s history.
“Och, it’s a bit brisk, isn’t it?” I said, downplaying the calamity of winter weather wreaking havoc on our town.
Ever since Sloane had slammed the door in my face the night before, I’d been dealing with one issue after another, as the snow caused chaos through the town.
A hot coffee and a cuppa soup was what I needed.
Not more problems with Sloane.
A memory surfaced. Sloane, sullen and angry, kicking a football down an alley behind her house, shouts sounding from the open window.
A plate had smashed, the noise echoing across the cobblestones, and Sloane had whirled, wiping a tear from her cheek.
I’d stopped, unable to resist offering help to someone, particularly this someone.
Sloane MacGregor. I’d seen her at my football practice one day, walking past the pitch, and I’d quickly grown fascinated. We didn’t go to the same school, and were a few years apart, so I’d started detouring on my walk home to go past the street I’d learned she lived on.
Hoping for a glimpse. A chance run-in.
But I’d never hoped for it to be like this.
I had paused, uncertain what to do, and Sloane had kicked the ball forcefully against the wall. The ball had bounced, ricocheting wildly, and landed at my feet.
Picking it up, I’d waited as she’d stomped toward me, all teenage angst and stubborn beauty.
“You all right?” I’d asked, worried for her.
“Aye.” She’d grabbed the ball, and I held it a moment longer than necessary, wanting her to meet my eyes.
When she’d finally looked up, I’d glimpsed worlds of pain in her depths, and I wanted to reach out, to hug her, to offer her some sort of solace.
Yet I’d been just an awkward teenager, unversed in the ways of navigating troubled families.
“If you need…” I trailed off as she yanked the ball from my hands and stomped away.
I’d been privy to a private moment. It wasn’t my burden to share.
Frankly, all of the MacGregor sisters were beautiful, but it had always been Sloane that had caught my eye. Moody greenish eyes, lilting toward gray, a stubborn chin, and a mouth made for kissing.
Not that I’d ever tried. Our paths had only crossed a few times in childhood, but the girl she had been paled in comparison to the woman she’d bloomed into. I’d been stunned yesterday, having difficulty finding my words as she’d angrily waved her hands in front of my face.
Sloane MacGregor. My secret teenage crush had blossomed into one hell of a woman.
Not that it much mattered what I thought one way or the other. She needed to leave. Along with her family.
“Put it on my tab, mate.” I nodded out the window to the car that was currently being covered with snow.
“Och, it’s a dreich day, lad. I heard it’s the MacGregors we have to thank for this lovely weather,” Liam said, clearing my soup bowl.
“It’s not their fault.” I surprised myself by defending them. I needed them to go, didn’t I? It would be easier if the town was on my side. I’d worked too hard to bring Briarhaven back from the brink of desolation to have the sisters and their blood curse mess things up.
“Aye, it’s a right shite curse, isn’t it, then?” Liam mopped the bar with a towel, squinting out the window.
Shrugging, I left the pub, nodding at a few people on the way out. Tugging my wool cap from my pocket, I pulled it over my hair and zipped my coat against the wind, stomping through the snow that had accumulated on the path to the car park.
I could hear the starter clicking, indicating a dead battery, from across the lot. Sighing, I stopped outside the car and knocked on the window.
Screams rose from inside.
Despite myself, I laughed, and brushed the snow away from the window until Sloane’s glaring face appeared.
My heart tripped as I took in her scowl, the pretty curve of her lips.
The door cracked open, and Sloane leaned her head out.
“Car troubles, lass?” I asked, fully knowing there was, indeed, a problem.
“Nope.” Sloane sniffed and moved to close the door. I caught the frame with my hand and held it open, easily enough, and Sloane glared up at my hand.
“I could break your fingers if I slammed them in the door.”
“I would advise against doing so,” I suggested, leaning closer.
“Then take your hand off my door.”
“It’s clear you need help. Your battery is dead.”
“Yesterday you wanted to kick us out and today you want to help us?” Sloane arched a brow at me.
“Can’t leave town with a dead battery, can you now, lass? Go on, then, lift the bonnet for me.”
“Just let him do it, Sloane. It’s freezing,” Nova hissed from the back seat, and I leaned in farther to see Lyra and Nova, matching scowls on their faces.
“I should be able to get you sorted shortly, ladies.”
“Thank you. Our hero.” Lyra fluttered her eyelashes at me, the warmest one of the bunch, and I grinned at her. Sloane rolled her eyes.
“A little warmth goes a long way,” I said, helpless not to poke at her.
“And was that a warm welcome you were giving us last night, then?” Sloane asked, her eyes widening as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Touché.”
The bonnet popped open, and I moved around the front of the car, angling my face away from the arctic wind.
While it would be easy enough to go get my car, jump the battery, and get the women on their way, it would take a lot more time than what I wanted.
Glancing over my shoulder to make sure there were no wayward tourists wandering about, I held my hands over the battery.
A current of magick rolled through me, and the battery briefly illuminated before returning to normal.
My magick had always worked that way. It hummed inside me, like being plugged into an electrical socket, and the first year after I’d turned twenty-five had been wild as I’d learned how to harness it.
I was best with elemental energy, invoking electrical currents, lighting flames, redirecting water—that kind of thing.
But I’d also learned that I had strengths in many areas.
Turned out, as I was a protector of Briarhaven, my magick had arrived as a jack-of-all-trades.
It was useful, in many situations such as this one, and I’d been grateful for my gift many times since.
Slamming the bonnet, I rounded the car as the door cracked open again.
“Go on, then, give it a go.”
Sloane bit her lip, annoyed with me but clearly wanting her car to work. She turned the key, and the engine caught easily, much to the joy of her sisters.
“Thanks, I guess.” Sloane slanted me a look.
“I meant what I said, Sloane. I need you all to leave before this gets much worse.”
“That sounds like a you problem, not an us problem,” Sloane said, and yanked the door shut. I pulled my fingers away just in time and stepped back as she reversed from the car park.
Her snotty attitude should make me dislike her more, and yet for some reason, it made me want to break through her walls and peel back her layers.
Which, frankly, was infuriating. The Douglas family had prided itself on keeping peace here for centuries now, our duties taken seriously, and I wasn’t going to be the one that would allow our perfect record to be broken.
Or so I’d been not-so-gently reminded by my overbearing parents last night.
They’d phoned me from their riverboat cruise in Vienna, noting a disturbance in the force, and I’d had to listen to them rant about the MacGregors and how they should have exiled the whole family from town years ago.
By the time they’d clicked off, my mother on her third martini, I hadn’t spoken in almost forty minutes.
It had always been that way—my parents ordering us about—while we’d all had to fall in line.
And the message had been clear. Sloane was the enemy, at least according to them.
Who was I to even consider standing up to centuries of Douglas family tradition?
What was good for Briarhaven always came first.
No matter what.
Duty weighed heavily on my shoulders. As firstborn, the responsibility had fallen to me to take up the helm when my parents had decided they wanted to see more of the world than tiny Briarhaven.
They hadn’t even asked. As soon as I’d finished uni, I’d been brought back to Briarhaven and installed as provost, and they’d left.
My two brothers, on the other hand, got to backpack through Europe and find themselves. Whatever that meant.
Instead, I’d put my business degree to use.
If I was going to be stuck in Briarhaven, I could, at the very least, solve some issues that the town struggled with.
A glaring oversight on my parents’ part.
Not that I’d ever bring it up to them. Their wrath wasn’t worth pointing out that I thought they’d rested on their laurels, allowing the town to descend into an almost state of disrepair, as a tough economy had made everyone tighten their belts.
Coupled with a reputation that Briarhaven was boring and decrepit, and the village had started to become a “must-miss” on a tourist’s itinerary.
Instead of railing against the reputation, I’d decided to lean into it.
One night, after a few too many whiskies, I’d been moaning to Liam about the town’s woes when we’d stumbled upon the idea of making it a theme park of sorts—more attraction than theme park, really, as we didn’t have rides.
A tourist destination for those who love all things magickal.
I’d spent weeks drawing up the presentation and the zoning plans, and had even offered small business loans at zero percent interest for the townsfolk who were ready to invest. To my surprise, my parents had given me the go-ahead, and mostly everyone had embraced the new vision for Briarhaven.
Not only has it been a roaring success, but it has also provided a much-needed refuge for the magickals in our world.
Gone were the days where we could live freely.
Briarhaven had been the home to a variety of magickal families for centuries.
Witches, fae, broonies, and elves… all sorts of creatures with power resided here.
As the years crept by and the human population grew, magickals—some feared, most untrusted—were forced to live in hiding lest their kind be hunted.
The people of Briarhaven had long ago assimilated to the human world, but there was only so much we could do to hide the wisp of “otherness” that clung to our town.
By turning Briarhaven into a destination, I’d been able to explain away many of the unexplainable happenings in our town.
It was a point of pride for me, because I did feel that everyone should be allowed to live in peace, without persecution for what they were.
Briarhaven was happy, healthy, and thriving.
The return of the MacGregors didn’t bode well for this prosperous town.
As for the pretty Sloane MacGregor, no matter how very much I wanted to trail my lips over that stubborn point of her chin and sink my teeth into that full bottom lip, I needed to stay focused on the one thing that mattered the most. Protecting Briarhaven at all costs.