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She taps my jaw with affection. “Help me up into this beastly vehicle, will you? It’s not meant for shorter women and definitely not for women over the age of sixty.”
“I’ll give you a boost,” I say and lift her carefully up into the seat.
Her eyes light up. “Erica, girl. You’re lucky I’m not thirty years younger or I might spirit this one away from you.”
Rikki laughs and then sobers and points with warning. “I don’t care how much older you are than me, don’t care that you raised me from the age of twelve, or that you’re a more powerful witch than I am. I will fight you.”
The aunt snickers and waves her hand dismissively.
“So nice to meet you,” Ronnie says, hugging me. And then her body stills for a moment before she looks me in the eyes. “I’m sorry to say that though I know you two have had a bit of an uphill battle, you’re gonna need to be careful. She needs you. Please take good care of her.”
“I will. I promise,” I say, feeling adrenalin spike in my bloodstream, like there’s a threat looming. “Any idea what’s ahead?”
She shakes her head. “It’s Vivi that has that gift, but I get hunches more than concrete information. We’ll keep you posted.”
“I feel the same as these guys,” Vivi chimes in, moving in for a hug. “You’re a miracle worker. She’s been smitten for a long time. And beating herself up almost as long. What a difference a little over a week makes.”
“I’ve still got work to do,” I admit.
“You’ve done wonders already. We couldn’t stop her from beating herself up. Only you could. I’m glad you saw the truth of everything, saw her point-of-view.”
I sigh. “Unfortunately, not quick enough.”
She shakes her head. “Definitely right timing. Difficult things tend to happen with the right timing, even if the reasons aren’t always evident. Call me if you need anything. Any help. Anything. My sister deserves her happy ending, and I won’t hesitate to use magic to help her get it if anything gets in the way again. We’re all of that mindset.”
“Glad to hear that.”
My mate is talking to Jase and Joel at this point, so I move her way after closing the Land Rover’s door.
“Later,” I dismiss the boys.
“See you at dinner. I’ll bring some sausage,” Joel says.
I hear cackling from the Land Rover.
My mate is laughing, too.
“We heard that,” Jase calls over, teasing.
There’s more laughter.
“I’ll bring beer,” Jase offers.
“Whatever you want, boys,” I agree, bending at the knee and taking my woman up and over my shoulder, ready to take her upstairs and peel this dress off her body.
I hear honks from the van and the Land Rover as the Young family pulls out.
42
Erica
Riley carries me upstairs and then he stops.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“My bed is covered with dresses and cats.”
“I have a lot of dresses.”
“And cats evidently.”
“The crazy cat lady starter kit includes three cats. That’s just the starter kit though, so count yourself lucky I didn’t bring six.”
I hear hissing times two. I bite my lip.
He turns and takes me into the ensuite bathroom.
“Fuck,” he mutters and adjusts me, so I’m cradle-carried instead of over his shoulder.
“Yep. Told you I have lotsa plants,” I remind him, realizing he’s cussing because he was about to take me into the shower, but the shower and tub are both filled with plants because they needed water. I threw the shower on for a while to mist some and filled the tub with a few inches of water for my orchids and bonsai trees to get their drink from the bottom.
He marches out of his room with me and halts in the doorway of the next room, which now contains about a dozen boxes of mine. The other empty room is full of my stuff, too, mostly grimoires and craft implements. The guest room that has another bed is now the cat room, though they’d made themselves at home in Riley’s room. This room now holds three litter boxes, food dishes, one of three cat trees, plus the tote of cat toys.
“Three litter boxes?”
“Six. Three more are in your laundry room. They don’t like to share toilets and it’s good to have more than one per cat.”
“Why the room with the bed and not one of the empty ones?”
“I thought they’d like this one more. They like people-beds.”
“Clearly,” he replies.
Oscar, my ginger male cat, sleeps on his back with all four paws up in the center of the bed.
Riley’s gaze bounces to me.
I try to stifle a giggle and fail. “Set me down and I’ll move Oscar.”
He sets me on the end of the bed.
“Oscar,” I jiggle my cat’s chubby belly. He opens one eye and then closes it, pretending to sleep.
“Oscar…” I tickle his foot. He flicks it and rolls to his belly. “Off the bed for a little while, kitty cat. We need it.” I lift him up and snuggle him for a second before stretching to plop him on the rug beside the bed.
