Page 12 of Of Poison & Pumpkins (Of Witches & Men #3)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Elias

I n the alleyway, the air has that perfect autumn scent that’s hard to describe. A calming breeze glides across my neck like a teasing embrace. As always, my car takes up two spots, parked diagonally due to my lack of spatial awareness. I’m not an intentional asshole.

“I’m not sleeping at your place. I’ll go to Zee’s,” I say to Rynn’s back as she struts away.

“Can’t,” Zanther remarks and I shoot him a questioning gaze.

“You specifically said you won’t come to my place till Halloween, so I made other arrangements till then, bro.

” Zanther pops my trunk with his spare key and gestures for me to throw my armful of dry possessions into the back. “I have a guest.”

“Every night?”

“If I do it right.” When he grins widely, I roll my eyes.

Next to me, Rynn gently places my suspenders into the trunk like they’re newborns, then shifts on her feet, her brows forming a tight, wrinkled line. “This won’t work. We need tissue paper to wrap them in or something.”

Absolutely adorable. It seems she was listening when I mentioned my obsession with my favorite accessory.

The collection started when I graduated from State with a bachelor’s in marketing.

Grandpa’s gift to me had been two pairs of suspenders, one he had worn to his first day of work half a century ago, the other a new pair for me.

After that, it became my trademark look.

In fact, one of the magical spells I had chosen during a past ritual was to find the most unique pair of suspenders ever created.

I now rock that rainbow pattern with unicorns every major holiday.

“Then, I’ll get a hotel. I’m not sleeping at your place,” I say, slamming my trunk shut.

As the afternoon sun kisses Rynn’s hair, it highlights a purple streak within her braids.

If the way she’s looking at me right now is any indication of my chances at refusing her offer, then sleeping at her place might be inevitable.

At least I’ll have an inside view of what makes Rynn tick.

Will she pity me as charity? Will she think I’m taking advantage?

“Stop thinking so loud,” Rynn says and crosses her arms.

I’d do anything to kiss that scowl off her face. When was the last time she truly laughed? That’s it! My new mission will be to make her laugh. And living at her place will give me the best chance at success. Only temporarily, of course, until the repairs are complete.

“I’ll crash at your place for one week tops, then I’m out. Tell me if I get annoying.”

“If?”

“Ah, the jokester has arrived!” I jest, just as a splat of bird poop lands on my clean shirt. “Oh, flamin’ furg tittle!”

The most glorious sound erupts from the depths of Rynn. A laugh that holds the keys to faraway kingdoms in dreamscapes. A laugh that could give fish wings. And I can’t tolerate the fact that I’ve missed years of hearing it.

This woman. Damn, I admire her bravery. Rynn values herself and is comfortable in her own skin—a trait I don’t possess. I envy her strength. I bet my left nut that the only friends she has are those who truly see her, understand who she is, and don’t judge.

Suddenly, the smell of rotten meat carries over the wind, and the rumble of a trash truck along cobblestones follows.

“Ew, that stinks.” Rynn covers her nose. “Let’s go to my place to wash up. We have shirts you can borrow.”

We? I jerk to a stop. Of course, Rynn is taken.

I should have known. She’s already engaged or even married.

I’ve been acting like a froggin’ fool this whole time and she’s been falling asleep by her partner every night.

That should’ve been the first question I asked when tumbling back into her life at full speed.

“A boyfriend’s shirt?” I ask.

She stops. Turns. Faces me. I swear a devious expression flashes across her face. What I can’t tell is if that’s a good or bad sign.

“Maybe. You’ll need to investigate.” Her voice carries a challenge that I won’t back down from.

Fine, if she wants me to play games, then here we go. I dart to catch up.

“Where would I sleep? Will they care you invited a stranger into your shared home?” I bounce a little next to her, almost certain that she’s messing with me. “Or are you into threesomes? I appreciate the invite, but I don’t share who I care about.”

“You’re making an awful lot of assumptions, Chatterbox.”

She guides me up the stairs to her apartment again. Sunlight streams through the windows this time, creating stripes across her hardwood floors. There are even more knitted projects noticeable than last night. As I scan them, I wonder which one she’d save in an emergency?

Details stand out that weren’t visible by the light of the moon before. She’s decorated with a collection from a famous feminist abstract artist who paints with soft, curvy pastels that clash against harsh lines and edges.

“I’ve heard her artistic statement is to represent all the ways to be a female.” I nod towards one painting where light pink waves smack against rigid black streaks with angled corners. In a way, the piece reminds me of Rynn—a woman of many shapes and dimensions.

“Yeah, that’s actually correct.”

I run a fingertip over a knitted hanging flowerpot that swings from the ceiling. “How did you learn to make all these?”

“My aunt,” she replies, clicking a few buttons on her phone until soft music plays from speakers mounted on her walls.

I recognize the female Indie band but don’t know the lyrics. Attempting to be casual, I wait on pins and needle to learn if she hums along or belts it out or holds the words close to her heart.

“Aunt Felice taught me the basics when I was a senior. After I moved away, we called once a month to chat and practice new stitches. She’s the one who?—”

I stop examining her projects and catch the unsure expression on her face before she turns away.

“What? You can tell me.”

She sighs, but it sounds like defeat or resignation.

“Aunt Felice taught me what it means to be a Fuzer. No one else in my family had the gene before me except for her. My mom hadn’t spoken to her in years because …

well, Fuzers had been treated like demonic witches by my grandparents.

So, my parents had kept the topic hush-hush for as long as possible. My aunt was the only supportive one.”

I don’t dare speak, shocked that Rynn’s opening up. A hundred comments and questions play dodgeball in my brain, but I swallow them down.

“I remember when Aunt Felice first told me she was a Fuzer. I was six and wouldn’t mature into my powers for years, but I remember thanking Mother Nature herself that I was like my aunt.

I loved feeling that powerful. Then when my sixteenth birthday hit, the one thing I always desired became my heaviest burden. ”

I want to ask questions, but am afraid of scaring her off. The beat of silence continues too long until she points to my stained shirt. “I know the perfect nickname! Mr. Poopy!”

“Okay, that’s it. Time to shower.”

Rynn gestures towards the only door, yet my eyes linger on her giant bed.

“Alright, well, if we’re sleeping together, I have ground rules,” I say, tugging my shirt off in one swift motion.

“There will be no sleeping together!”

Heat swarms my blood as her gaze devours my chest, across my tattoos.

Then her attention returns to my eyes. Furgit!

Failure isn’t an option when she looks this addicted to me.

I want her to look at me this way for a long time—when I teach her how to row, when we step off a plane to explore Caracus together, and when she peeks at me over the top of her book with a thirst in her eyes.

“You think you get to set the ground rules?” She licks her bottom lip. “It’s my house.”

“Yes, well, I am the one with the dazzling smile, so I get to make three rules.”

“First rule”—she throws a folded towel at my chest, interrupting and declaring her own— “you always wear clothes.”

“No, rule number one is nothing sticky.” I shiver, unwilling to ask if she owns honey, syrup, or jelly in her cabinets.

Rynn puts both hands on her hips. “Second rule, no touching. I don’t want to be watching TruDeath and then have you manspread on the couch with your feet on my lap.”

I grumble in frustration. “Or rule number two is, I get half the bed.”

“Absolutely not,” Rynn protests, waving both hands in the air. “And rule three, no dates over here. If you meet a girl, go to her place.”

The last time I had sex was over a year ago. And even though she happily obliged to my fetish, I couldn’t morally sleep with her again, not after realizing I was picturing Rynn when with her. “I only have one prospect in mind,” I say, holding her gaze.

It’s so flamin’ hot the way she tries to out-stubborn me, the defiant passion in those hazel eyes. Rynn accepting me, allowing me into her space is a huge win.

She sighs and points one finger at me. “No more of this nonsense flirting.”

I take a step forward, the hardwood creaking under my weight. “I like you, Rynnlee.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I always have. I don’t remember who my first kiss was with.

Wanna know why? Because one time in the hallway, between classes, I saw you walking closer, and I had an outrageous urge to make you look at me.

It was like I’d never know oxygen again unless you looked my way.

So, I grabbed the closest girl and kissed her to get your attention. ”

She sways slightly, like her brain and body are at war. “If that’s true, why didn’t you say something back then? You didn’t talk to me until we were lab partners.”

“I asked that teacher to be your partner, Rynnlee.”

A soft gasp parts her lips. Goddess, I want to kiss her. Every muscle constricts with a need to move towards her.

“When you left after graduation, I asked everyone where you moved.” The frustration I had experienced long ago sweeps back like a tsunami.

I clench my hands into fists at my side.

“No one knew where you ran off to. I thought you were flippin’ abducted or something, Rynnlee!

The only reason I stopped asking about you was because your brother showed me a text to him from an hour prior, proving that you were safe and happy. ”

I don’t need to tell her that’s when her brother threatened me for the second time to stay away.

Her face loses color as she shakes her head. “Orion never told me that. He would’ve said something.”

“Orion hates me and didn’t want me near you.”

She wrings her hands together as she sits on her mattress with a ‘humph.’

“I’ve been in four serious relationships since we graduated.

I’ve always picked an all-in partner. The type to exchange random presents on a Tuesday, who wants both date nights out and couch lounging in PJs.

I love to make my woman happy by texting her during my breaks. None of them worked out because …”

Her lips part, and she’s latched onto my every word.

“Because they weren’t you, Rynnlee.” I sit next to her, holding the towel as a barrier against my bare chest. “I want you . I’ve tried to scrub you from my memories for years, but you’re a permanent mark on my soul.”

She shoots to her feet, stumbles over herself as she puts space between us. “I-I d-don’t do relationships,” Rynn stammers. She aimlessly wanders around her apartment, moving books around on her shelves.

“Would you be willing to try?” I pause, tracking her neurotic fidgeting. “Look at me, please.”

“That’s not my style.” Her throat bobs. “I’m not interested in matching Halloween costumes or meeting anyone’s parents. I had sex a week ago with a tourist I’ll never see again.”

The thought of her tangled with another person makes my ears ring and my head pound.

I crack my knuckles and let out a deep breath.

What if she hasn’t even done laundry since her sexcapades?

Am I currently staring at the place where they saw her naked, touched her body?

My hand scrapes down the front of my face.

I bend in half and swallow a growl, not wanting to scare her if I break down and show a toxic caveman persona.

When I look back up, she’s watching me intently, pure curiosity etched into the lines of her face.

“Listen, I used to know you. I knew a girl who stopped believing in love at age sixteen. I knew your least favorite scent was bleach because of your mom’s OCD.

You secretly loved the Lollipop Daze pop group too, no matter how many times you denied it because I saw you at their concert.

” It’s my turn to point straight at her.

Her mouth drops open.

“You once believed your spirit blended with other spirits to create a new life source. You were ridiculously superstitious. I remember you once told me you spent all your allowance on cat food to feed the neighborhood strays. You quit every sport your parents registered you for. Oh, and my favorite. … you wanted to travel back to ancient Egypt where they all worship cats.”

She stares at the artwork on her walls, deep in thought. I give her a minute, then two, then ponder the chance that she has a rare form of narcolepsy.

“How do you know if any of those things are still true?”

“I don’t, but I’m eager to learn.”

She rubs a hand down her face. “Maybe if you go on a date with three separate women here, and still believe we need a shot, that’ll convince me that this isn’t a random spur-of-the-moment idea.”

“I hate everything about what you said.” I shake my head, “Rynnlee, do you despise me, completely, truly, and eternally?”

Her breathing speeds and her chest rises and falls faster. I know she feels something for me, but hatred can walk the same tightrope as adoration. She’s silent for too long.

“Tell me right now to walk away.” I stretch out both arms, palms up. “Tell me to never speak to you again. This is your chance. I swear to Mother Nature herself that I’ll do it. If you truthfully despise me and never want to see me again, I’ll stay away.”

Slowly, her hands drop to her sides and she shakes her head softly. “I … I don’t hate you.” She licks her lips. “I just don’t believe you.”

“So, I’ll make you believe.” I strip away the space between us but still resist touching her. “What can I do? I’ll spend a day with Tinsley to pass the best friend vibe check.”

“No, she’s always busy.” Rynn tilts her head to the side. “Fine, I’ll go on a real date with you, if you?—”

“Anything.”