Magical Midlife Madness (Leveling Up #1)(54)

“Yes, alpha.”

“I am not your alpha.”

“Yes, Austin Steele.”

“I’m not magical. I’ll call the cops if you get handsy,” Jess said, uncertainty peeking through her determination.

When Donna was gone, he allowed himself to slouch. “You continually make me take a harder look at myself and my surroundings.” He blew out a breath and poured himself more Scotch.

“Sorry,” she said. “When I came here, I wasn’t looking for any of this. I saw this as a rest stop until I could figure out what to do next.”

“Instead you got another circus. Look, I’m not going to tell you what to do. I’ve given you all the information I have. You seem like a smart lady and this is your life. You’ll do what you need to. I just ask that you remember the town. The people here are good people. They deserve a fair shake, like you do.”

“And you? You don’t deserve a fair shake?” she asked.

“I’m not worried about me.”

“Maybe you should be.” She dropped her hand onto his, her eyes open and supportive. The frost locking up his heart thawed a little.

He pulled his hand away. “And there’s one more thing you should know.”

“Ugh!” She dropped her head onto her arm, resting on the counter. “No more. Please no more.”

“No one can help you get that magic from Ivy House. No one can tell you how.”

When she looked up, it was in the direction of Ivy House. Her eyes turned distant. Her teeth snagged on her plump lower lip. “I think I know how. It would just be a question of finding my way back there when or if the time comes.”





Twenty-One





The whirling of my mind only slightly dulled by the non-conventional tasting, I emerged from the tasting room back into the glorious sunshine. Colorful crystals pulsed in my memory from when I was a kid, pulling at me. Diana pulling me away.

“Why would it choose me and not Diana?” I asked as Austin stepped up behind me.

His touch on the small of my back was slight and his movements coaxed me forward without words. We sauntered down the street, the world at our beck and call.

Or so it seemed. There was nothing quite like afternoon drinking for a good time.

“I suspect this means the legends about the genetic component to the magic aren’t strictly true,” Austin said, bumping into me slightly. The scotch or the wine was starting to work. “If they were, a non-magical person from a completely different lineage wouldn’t awaken the house.” He shook his head at the next tasting room we reached. “I hate that guy’s voice. I would sooner eat glass than listen to him drone on about wine.”

I laughed as we continued on.

“It seems like the house found something in you that it had been looking for in the Havercamp heirs,” he said. “There was a quality in you it craved. So it traded up.”

“Lord knows what that quality might be.”

He looked down on me as we stopped at the corner, waiting for a few cars to roll past.

“Courage, confidence, a desire for adventure, quick wit, steadfast, trustworthy, loyal… I mean, take your pick.”

My face flamed hot. “Boy have I got you fooled.”

“Nah. I was just making all that up so you’d feel good about yourself.”

“Oh well, thanks a million, man.”

He put his hand on the small of my back again as we crossed the street, guiding me. It was almost like he thought I’d randomly decide to go sprinting into oncoming traffic.

Wouldn’t have mattered if I did, though. There was no oncoming traffic. The pace in this place was slow and tranquil. No one was in a hurry. Time didn’t compress until you felt like you were always in a race.

The difference was welcome. I felt like my shoulders were looser, my blood pressure lower.

“There sure are a lot of tasting rooms for a town this size,” I said as we got to the other side of the street. They dotted our path.

“It brings in a lot of tourism. It’s good for the town, though the tourists are mostly pompous old fuddy-duddies or obnoxious twenty-somethings. I try to avoid this strip in the tourist season.”

“Are we in tourist season? Must be, right, because October is harvest?”

“Correct. Add smart and insightful to that list.”

“I hope you’re not trying to get me to list your personality wins. I’m still struggling to find any.”

“You’re intent on boosting my ego, huh?” His crooked grin was back. This guy didn’t need my help to bolster his confidence—he knew exactly what he was good at, and based on the way other people in town reacted to him, he was dead right.

We passed a small alleyway with baskets of flowers hanging on the sides of the buildings, no dodgy streams of murky water and not one piece of litter. This definitely wasn’t L.A..

Standing against the wall, halfway down the alley, stood Mr. Tom. He wore a trench coat, bowler cap, and a pair of circular Harry Potter glasses. His arms hugged his sides and he stared straight ahead. It appeared he thought himself either disguised or invisible.

I paused, squinting at him. Austin backed up to see what I was doing.

“Good God,” he murmured. Rather than confront Mr. Tom, he immediately shifted his gaze away and kept walking.