Tug of Attraction (13 page)

“Your expression changed. What were you thinking just now?”

Brigit really didn’t want to divulge that, but what the heck... “I was just wondering if I could use this conversation to tell off my sister. I think I just figured out why some people might think I’m unreasonable.”

The doctor smiled. “Great insight.”

“Yeah...great,” she said sardonically.

* * * *

E
than was talking to his deck hand when Brigit strolled up to the gate. He smiled and excused himself.

“Hey, beautiful.” He unlocked the entrance and let her in. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I was in town anyway and thought I’d take a chance. Are you busy?”

“Not at the moment. I have a job in a few hours.”

She looked up at him coquettishly. “Does that mean there’s time for a quickie?”

“Jesus, Bridge.” He glanced left and right. No one seemed to have overheard. He let out a deep breath. “Did you fail a pregnancy test already?”

“No. I haven’t checked. It’s only been a couple of days. I just thought—you know. Maybe just to be sure...”

He laughed. “I guess you didn’t hate the experience.”

“Not at all.” She smiled up at him and took his hands. “Ethan, it’s never been like that for me before. I—I’d like to do the dating thing.”

He smiled, but his suspicion must have shown through.

“I swear, it’s not a trick. I don’t want to change the outcome. I just thought maybe we could have some fun along the way.”

“Come aboard and we can talk about it more privately.”

He escorted her onto his boat and as soon as she was settled at the kitchen table he offered her a cup of tea.

“You have tea now?”

“Yeah, I bought some after I knew what you liked. I had thought maybe...well, never mind. Yeah, I have some Chamomile. Would you like a cup?”

“Sure.”

While the kettle was heating, he found two cups and began making a small pot of coffee for himself. “What brought on this change of heart?”

She dropped her gaze. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

He tipped his head. “Why would I laugh?”

She sighed. “I saw a therapist. My sister talked me into it.”

“Oh? There’s nothing wrong with that. Why did you think I might laugh?”

She shrugged. “Well, I know guys aren’t big on therapy. Most think it’s a waste of time and money.”

He sat across from her as their drinks were brewing. “I don’t think it’s a waste. Or if it is, you’ve got the wrong therapist. I went to one after my mother’s suicide.”

She flattened her back against the bench seat. “You did?”

“Yeah. I really needed to look at my life at that point. Maybe the guys you knew in Hollywood weren’t into it, but therapy—or just having someone trustworthy to talk to—can be very helpful.”

She nodded. “I can see that now.”

“So, it sounds like it’s been a good thing for you. At least you seem more relaxed.”

She grinned. “That might be because I got laid.”

He laughed. “Glad I could help.”

The kettle whistled and he jumped up to finish making her tea. Setting the cup in front of her, he gave her a genuine smile. “There are sugar packets in that covered bowl.” The plastic tub wasn’t fancy, but they kept sugar and salt flowing freely in the ocean air. Then he returned for his coffee.

She blew on her tea, and her rounded lips reminding him that she’d offered to give him a blow job.

“I wasn’t planning on anything. I have a bed here, but it’s just a small bunk.”

She went to take a sip, then smiled instead. “Hmmm...choices. Your attic. Your bedroom, or your boat. It makes no difference to me.”

He didn’t know how far to push this new attitude of hers, but he figured it was worth a try. “Or we could go to your place.”

She set her tea on the table and her lips thinned. “I still don’t want you to know where I live.”

We’ll see about that.
“But you want to date. I’m just trying to figure out where things stand.”

She hesitated, but eventually nodded. “I’d like to invite you to a play. It’s one of my favorites, and the Portsmouth Playhouse has some very talented professionals.”

“You know that place is supposed to be haunted, right?”

“Oh, crap. No, I didn’t.”

“Can’t you just ignore a spirit? I ignore Charlotte when other people are around. She doesn’t like it, but she understands how it would look to a visitor if I were talking to thin air.”

She bit her lip. “Sometimes I pretend I can’t see them and they’ll go away.”

“Sounds like that’s all you need to do, then. What’s the play?”

“The Crucible.”

“Wow. That’s one of your favorites? It’s kind of heavy and sad for witches.”

“I know, but they weren’t really witches, and innocent people need to be mourned. Today's Salem witches still gather on Gallows Hill every Samhain to honor their memories.”

“We Portsmouth witches honor our ancestors in our own way,” he said. “I’m a descendent 

“Sunday’s the last night.”

“I’m on call, as always, but I should be able to take you.”

“I’m
taking
you.”

“No way. It’s a man’s prerogative to pay for dates, and I want to.”

She bit her lip and looked pensive. At last she nodded. “All right. I’ll pay you back in the bedroom.”

Booyah!

* * * *

H
anna stood on a trash heap and leaned back until she felt the crick in her spine pop, then she let out a satisfied “Ahhh...” She used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat off her face and afterward noticed it was streaked with dirt. Now her face probably was too. She glared at Fayleen. “I can’t believe you talked me into going dump picking.”

In a mock low voice, Fayleen answered, “I only take you to the nicest places, dear.”

Hanna rolled her eyes. “Sadly, this is the only ‘date’ I’ve had in months—if  I were dating you—which I’m not and never would.”

“Hey, you’re not my type, either, babe. Now keep looking. It’s got to be in here somewhere.”

Hanna plunked her bottom down on an old portable dishwasher. “There has to be a better way to do this.” She surveyed the area. Other than woods on one side and a chain link fence on the other, there was nothing nearby. A dirt road down the middle was empty, so they looked as if they were alone.

Fayleen seemed to know what she was thinking, stopped sifting through the junk and glanced around the area too. “I don’t see anyone. Do you?”

“Nope. Not a soul.”

The witches grinned at each other, then trod down the garbage laden mountain and stood in the road.

“You take this side, and I’ll take that side,” Hanna said.

“Bossy as usual,” Fayleen muttered under her breath.

“Hey! You can do the whole thing by yourself—”

“No, no. Point taken. I’m very grateful that you’re helping me with this.”

“Humph. I wouldn’t wear the crappiest overalls on earth for just anybody.”

“Awww...” Fayleen chuckled. “Okay, let’s sift.”

Each witch extended her arm and piles of trash lifted by themselves. As the women moved their arms side to side, like a leaf blower, the trash undulated in a wave, revealing whatever was buried beneath. Pass after pass, pieces flying up and down the pile hadn’t revealed what they were looking for.

A commanding female voice from the woods said, “Way to keep your supernatural gifts under wraps, assholes.”

Hanna and Fayleen dropped their arms and faced the woods with their hands clasped behind their backs. When the last of the trash had obeyed the laws of gravity and fluttered to their final resting places, a group of black clad women stepped out of the woods.

“So...what are you doing?” asked one of the strangers innocently.

“Nuthin’” Fayleen said, just as innocently.

The interlopers formed a line, and all thirteen of them folded their arms in unison. They looked like the opposite of a cheerleading squad.

“So, who are you?” Hanna asked.

The women in the center smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s why I asked,” Hanna said, as condescendingly as she could while shaking in her rubber boots.

One of the younger women tipped her nose in the air and said, “We are Stregherias.” 

Her sister witches whipped their heads toward her and frowned.

“Oops,” she said.

“That information was on a ‘need to know’ basis, Andrea,” the crone in the center snapped.

“Sorry.”

The leader faced Hanna and Fayleen and just stared at them for a few moments.

“Is that what you came to say, ladies?” Fayleen asked. “You want us to keep our true natures hidden?”

The woman stomped her foot. “That’s
not
your true nature! You were as human as the next person until you drank from the chalice.”

The woman next to her shouted, “And the chalice is ours.”

Hanna held up one hand to quiet the group. “Look. I’m not sure why you say that, but let’s look at this logically.”

The old crone leaned back and glared at her. “Logic has nothing to do with it.”

“I’m afraid it does,” Hanna said, emboldened now that she was fairly sure this group wasn’t supernatural. “Cabot witches came by the grail honestly. It was hidden for centuries by the druids of Great Britain. When they realized their group was dying out, they looked for a new group that was growing. They wanted a group of witches that had the same values they held dear.”

Several of the Stregheria bristled at that. “Values?” asked the crone.

“Yeah, values,” Fayleen interjected.

Oh, boy,
Hanna said to herself.
Try not to step in it, Fayleen.
 

“From what I’ve heard, your group abused the power that came with the grail. It was taken from you in the middle ages for just that reason. The druids wanted a responsible, highly principled group to—”

The old crone jammed her hands on her hips. “Responsible! And exactly why are you sifting through the garbage? You lost it, didn’t you?”

Oh, no.
Before Hanna could jump in, Fayleen crossed her arms and said, “Of course not.”

The other witches glanced at each other. At last the crone said, “You’re lying.”

“Am not,” she said.

“Are too,” Andrea fired back.

I see what she’s doing. Technically,
she
didn’t lose it. Her housekeeper did.
“Ladies...ladies,” Hanna said. “There really is no reason to point fingers. Perhaps we can have a friendly competition.”

Fayleen’s jaw dropped and she stared at her fellow coven elder. Telepathically, she asked her,
“What the heck do you think you’re doing?”

Hanna smiled while the others whispered among themselves, then answered her friend in the same silent fashion.
Trust me. No matter who finds it, we can take it and disappear. Besides, we could use the help.

“Fine,” the crone announced. “We’ll all look, but you can’t use your supernatural abilities to find it.”

Hanna tapped her lip and appeared to be thinking it over.

Fayleen smiled at her. Apparently they were on the same page.
“We don’t need to use supernatural abilities to find it...just to take it back where it belongs.”

Yup.

“We accept your conditions,” Hanna said. “After all, recovering it is more important than our petty differences.”

As the witches were shaking hands, a dog that had been sniffing through the trash several yards away dug up something that looked like a garbage-covered dinosaur bone. He gripped his treasure between his teeth and ran into the woods to bury it.

Ten hours later:

Thirteen very pissed off witches faced off with the two supernaturals. Everyone was covered in garbage stains.

“Why did you lure us here?” the crone demanded.

“We didn’t lure you. Would we have let you witness our supernatural powers if we knew you were watching?” Fayleen asked.

The leader’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re so supernatural, why didn’t you sense us and stop using those powers?”

“Because we were concentrating on other things,” Hanna said. “We’re not omniscient.”

Fayleen stared at her.
“We’re not what?”

Omniscient. It means all seeing and all knowing.

“Oh. Then say it that way. I don’t want them to think I’m dumb.”

“Why are you two staring at each other?” The crone asked. “Can you read each other’s minds?”

Andrea gasped. “Can they read ours?”

Fayleen smirked. “Maaaybe.”

Fayleen! Don’t poke the tiger!

“I don’t see any tiger. Just a bunch of powerless witches.”

These women are far from powerless.
Hanna cleared her throat. “Of course we can’t read minds. Sometimes when two people have been friends for a long time, they can seem as if they’re reading each other’s minds when they share a look.”

“How long have you known each other?” Velia demanded.

“About ten years,” Fayleen announced proudly.

“Ten long years,” Hanna mumbled under her breath.

“Ha!” Andrea, the youngest, blurted. “I’ve known these women my whole life. And most of them have known each other since birth or marriage. We’re all related.”

“You can’t get much closer than that,” Velia, the leader, said.

“Okay. Okay. We can communicate telepathically with each other, but we can’t read your minds. Relax,” Hanna said.

The Italian witches scrutinized each other, then faced their two opponents. “Prove it. I’m thinking something right now. If you react before my sisters and I do, we’ll know you can read our minds.”

Hanna and Fayleen waited. Suddenly Velia lunged at them and the whole Boshetto jumped into the fray. They got a couple of good right hooks in before Hanna and Fayleen grabbed each other’s hands and transported out of there.

* * * *

E
than heard the knock and figured it was Brigit ready to go to the play. She was a little late and they’d have to hurry to make it on time. He grabbed his jacket and opened the door, smiling, then he saw the expression on her face and became concerned. 

“What’s wrong?”

She let out a deep sigh. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Oh.” He stepped aside and opened the door wider. “Come in.”