Page 6 of Unhinged Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #2)

Wesley

I rummaged through my stuff in the garage to find the one fishing rod I owned. The sudden crunching of tires followed by the heavy thud of a vehicle door shutting drew my attention.

Colt’s deep voice rumbled through the garage. “You guys want a lift?”

“Count me in,” I replied, pulling a tackle box from the back of the cupboard that looked just as new as the day I had purchased it. I’d never been a fan of fishing, but when my friends were involved I usually made the effort.

Colt was the fisherman of the group, and, as he stood in the doorway of my garage gripping the top of the door frame in a flannel shirt and worn denim blue jeans, he looked the part. “Jump in, I’ll go get Ty,” he said, disappearing inside the house.

I made my way over to Colt’s pickup, dumping my gear on the truck bed.

Reid eyed me from the front passenger seat. “Fish for dinner?” he said with a shit-eating grin.

“Fuck off,” I grunted, letting myself into the back seat. I wasn’t in the mood for his banter even when I knew he had good cause. I was more likely to catch a cold than dinner.

A thump sounded, and Ty jumped in beside me, adjusting the thick jacket he wore. “Are we taking bets on how many hooks Wes loses?” He grinned in my direction.

“Asshole,” I muttered.

Colt’s amused eyes found mine in the rearview mirror. He refrained from joining in my torment.

A late afternoon chill spread through the town, its tail whipping through trees and swirling fallen leaves. We headed down the road toward the dock, my mind ignoring the banter filling the car. Instead, it drifted back to the encounter with Skye in the back of the store I had followed her into.

What was her deal anyway? I hadn’t imagined finding my fated mate to be such an issue. It was supposed to be simple, an undeniable attraction. Yeah, Ty would be pissed. That was a given. But that was no reason to deny it.

The dock came into view, stretching out over the murky as fuck water that always gave me the shits.

I had never swum in there, not even as a kid.

I was sure the mist that never left this town could claim a man’s sanity.

There were tales of fishing boats that left for sea that never returned, and as a kid I assumed they had simply gotten lost. I doubted we would ever know the truth.

As the truck pulled to a stop, we jumped out, taking our gear with us to the end of the dock. Deep water meant bigger fish in Colt’s mind. I wasn’t one to argue.

We cast our lines into the water, and I rested on one of the large timber posts holding the dock together. It surprised me that the thing was still standing after years of no obvious maintenance.

Colt opened a beer, flipping the lid off and dropping it into his fishing bag. He passed the bottle to me.

“Cheers.” I lifted it to my mouth, taking a drink.

He nodded, staring out at the cliffs in the distance. Colt always had this look about him, like he was internally rationalizing his own thoughts.

“How can a town have its own heartbeat?” he mused, more to himself than to us.

Reid side-eyed him, quirking a brow. “Heartbeat?”

“Yeah, you guys feel it, right?” His gaze didn’t waver from the cliffs.

I stared at him closely, taking in the way he sat, one leg raised, the other dangling over the edge of the dock. I often caught him staring into the distance, and many times had wondered what it must be like to walk in his shoes. To feel nature in its every essence.

“I hear no heartbeat,” said Ty, catching my gaze.

I tugged at my rod as it snagged on something below. “Your magic is next level insane,” I mumbled, wrenching on my line further. “Stupid piece of shit,” I grumbled, more to myself than anyone else.

Reid dropped his rod on the ground, making his way over to me, tugging on my fishing line to help release the snag. He wound his gaze back to Colt. “You really hear a heartbeat?”

Colt shifted in a way that made me think he felt uncomfortable. “More like feel . Fuck, I don’t know. Forget I said anything.”

The group fell quiet, save for the efforts of trying to release my hook. Reid wound the line tight around his arm, giving it steady tension until it broke free. He stumbled backward, catching himself before he fell.

“Oh, screw this!” I threw an arm in the air when I noticed the hook and sinker missing off the end. “That was my last jig.”

Reid chuckled, letting go of my line. “You might have to stick with chasing women rather than fish.”

The group erupted into laughter, and he nudged me playfully before returning to his rod.

I shot him a dark look, although I knew he was just having a laugh. “Speak for yourself; you’re not doing any better.”

Humor glistened in Reid’s eyes. “Greens, you know they come to me willingly .”

I shook my head in amusement, knowing there was no point in arguing.

He wasn’t wrong. Reid attracted women like flies to shit.

I put it down to the fake-ass grin he plastered on his face that I knew protected his heart.

One night, after too many beers, he told me things I bet he didn’t mean to.

I often thought about approaching the topic with him, but I knew Reid well.

Try to talk to him about anything deep, and he would turn the conversation in a different direction.

I dropped my rod to the ground. “Back in a minute.” I motioned back up the dock. “Going to grab some new hooks.”

Ty threw his tackle bag at my feet. “Use one of mine. There’s plenty to spare.”

Like the good guy he was, I knew he wouldn’t mind, but I’d lost that many jigs that I needed to replace them anyway.

I patted my pocket, checking my wallet was in there. “Nah, all good, won’t be long.”

Venturing back down the dock, two gulls hurried out of my way, taking off into the air and landing on a nearby railing.

Their sharp eyes followed me as I passed.

I made my way over to Salty’s on the far end of the dock, rounding the corner to the fishing supplies store.

A bell chimed as I opened the door, announcing my arrival into the store that looked like a fisherman’s wet dream. Not mine.

Unlike fishing, ink fascinated me. The way it sank into skin and embedded itself within someone like an extension of their personality was captivating. Every tattoo had a story; a history. It was the single most satisfying thing in life. Period.

I headed to the back of the shop where different sized hooks lined the back wall, some in bright colors, others plain. I plucked two bags off a shelf, adding a couple of sinkers to my handful before making my way back to the front counter.

“Wesley, it’s been a while.”

I turned to the voice I knew well, a robust man with a scruffy beard approaching the counter from a back room.

“Ted, good to see you.” I extended my hand to him, shaking it firmly. My father always said a handshake was an extension of manners, and believed any man you could trust to do a deal with on a handshake was worthy of your time.

Ted pulled at the sides of his jeans, tucking the top that was far too small for his stomach into the waistband. “How’s your mother doing? I should pop in and visit sometime.”

“She’s doing okay. I’m sure she would love to see you,” I replied, handing over my payment.

Ted adjusted the belt around his waist. “I might just do that. Well, it was great to see you, lad. Good luck with dinner.” He winked.

I grinned at his attempt at humor. “Thanks, I’ll need it.”

I exited the shop as a swift gust swept my hair into my face. I swiped it away, bundling my hands with my purchase into the pockets of my jacket.

On the street, a beat-up truck suddenly swerved to avoid a pothole in the road, knocking down the local coffee shop’s street sign. Without a second thought, I started across the road to pick it up when a familiar head of tousled brown hair appeared from the solid timber door of the cafe.

I slowed as Skye marched toward the sign, mumbling something to herself. Her brows pitched together as she bent to place the sign upright, her delicate frame struggling with the weight of the water inside its base.

I couldn’t help but admire her from this position.

After our last encounter, I didn’t know how to act. Because nothing seemed to work where she was concerned. “Need a hand?” I offered, walking across the road.

She whipped around, giving me a quick once-over. “I’m fine.”

“Skip, let me help…” I approached, ignoring the huff that left her as I lowered and stood the sign back upright.

She wrapped her arms around herself, annoyance flashing in her eyes. “Thanks. I wish the council would do something about the potholes in this town.”

“Yeah, it could really use some maintenance,” I agreed.

Every sentence was another piece of her I could learn. I absorbed every word.

Her hands landed on her hips. “I don’t see why they let things get so bad.

I’m sure it’s not that hard to fill a hole or paint.

” She motioned to the shop I’d followed her into yesterday, its exterior wall weathered and badly in need of a fresh coat of paint.

“If that was my shop, I would want to look after it.”

From my few encounters with Skye, I had found her to be passionate in the way she expressed herself, but it was clear there was another side of her that cared about this town.

I brushed a leaf into the gutter with my shoe. “Why do you care so much about that shop?”

Skye tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking away. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

Her irises suddenly flickered with annoyance. “Why do you care?”

Oh, we’re back to this. The ‘let’s ignore us, I hate Wesley’ train. Fine, if she wanted to jump back on that, then I would play along, even if it ground my gears to no end.

“It was just a question, Skip. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Fury rolled over her, my comment hitting its mark. Her hands landed on her hips again. “Stop calling me that. I’m not a child anymore.”

True, but it was all I’d known. She had always been Skip to me. “Yeah well, we missed a few years,” I said dryly.

That silenced her, but her glare stuck to mine. “Are you always this moody?” she accused.

I held back a chuckle. “I came here to help, and you just insulted me.”

She shook her head. “You’re infuriating.”

I’m the infuriating one here?

“You’re welcome,” I said, not bothering to argue.

She backed onto a higher step, leaving her staring down at me. She didn’t look away.

“Anything else I can help you with?” I said jokingly.

Her breasts rose as she drew in a firm breath, her pointer finger directed at me. “And you will never find out what panties I wear.” She turned swiftly, heading back toward the door of the cafe, raising her voice over her shoulder. “Do you want coffee or not?”

I smirked. “Latte to go.”

She glared at me, pushing the door open. “Wait here.”

She disappeared inside, and I leaned against the lamppost, my attention drifting to the shop she had mentioned.

Its timber exterior had weathered over the years, its front windowpane almost bare.

Why had she been so cagey about my question?

I hadn’t considered it personal, but maybe something I assumed to be general conversation was clearly something more to her. It piqued my interest even further.

Minutes later, Skye approached with my coffee in hand. Our fingers brushed at the exchange, sparks darting across my skin. I held back a groan. How could she ignore this bond currently hell-bent on bending me to its will?

“Thanks.”

“Should have popped some sugar in yours,” she goaded, the innuendo obvious.

A low chuckle left me. I flicked her some cash before she turned, heading back up the steps.

“Panties still up your ass?” I bantered, because I did not know how to handle this.

Skye wouldn’t talk to me about any of it. Her disappearance. The bond.

She looked back over her shoulder; a scowl mixed with a spark of something I couldn’t place lingering in her stare. “Who said I wear any?”

Fuck me.

“Lies,” I murmured under my breath, but the look on her face told me she’d heard it.

She raised a shoulder casually. “Believe what you want.”

She was bluffing. Had to be. But there was no visible panty line creasing into her ass as she sashayed back up the stairs.

Well, fuck.

If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t for a second entertain the thought that my best friend’s sister spent her days riding the seam of her pants. But entertain that thought I did, as I made my way back to the guys.

Ty turned to me, taking a sip of his beer. “I wondered where you’d gotten to. Beer not doing it for you?”

Avoiding his gaze, I placed my coffee down beside my tackle box, pulling my purchases from my pocket. “Slept like shit. Needed caffeine.”

It wasn’t a lie. But he didn’t need to know that thoughts of his sister had kept me awake until the early hours of the morning.

Reid tugged on his rod. “You sure took your time, thought you’d gotten stuck talking to Ted.”

“The old man’s lonely. He needed to vent.”

I made hard work of removing the hooks from the packaging, not giving the group anything to question me on further.

I didn’t need any of them piecing together this thing between Skye and me.

One scent and the lot of them would be on me like vultures, and a protective brother was the last thing I needed.

I had most definitely been stuck talking to someone. Just not who they believed. There was no way in hell I was telling them I’d spent the last few minutes of my time at Coffee Cove trying to figure out if Skye’s panties were nonexistent or stuck up her ass.

I didn’t know if it was a bluff. And I would be an irritable beast until I knew for sure. But there would be a time when she was mine and I would find out for myself. And fuck if that didn’t have my dick stirring and heart longing to see her again.