Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(36)

Thinking about the sexy conundrum that was Damian—her theme for last night’s insomnia—Rose teetered on her ladder before once again finding her balance.

She’d tried everything to evict him from her head. Edie’s calming tea. Physical exercise. She’d even tried orgasming her way to freedom with the help of Mr. Wiggles … but nothing worked. At first, she’d chalked it up to the emotional high of seeing her sister Bond with her soul mate. And when she settled from that, she linked it to the way Damian had not only stood up to Valentin, but challenged him—that was where Mr. Wiggles had come into play because that had been hot.

H.O.T.

But then she narrowed the cause of her restlessness to the scene between Damian and Julius Kontos.

His brother.

Once the cat hopped out of the cauldron, she’d found herself comparing them. Their eyes, both framed with thick lashes, had the same symmetrical shape with Damian’s coloration leaning more to stormy gray while Julius’s tilted heavily into a forest green. But other than both men being tall and broad-shouldered, that’s where the similarities ended.

Known as a voracious flirt and consummate socializer, Julius charmed every room he walked into while Damian was too busy walking out of the room in hopes of avoiding all social interactions. The demon Council representative was hardly ever seen without a smile on his face, and on the few rare occasions Damian’s lips twitched with the threat of one, he usually pulled it back.

It was night and day.

Sunshine and Grump.

And while Rose had always gravitated to the sun’s bright rays in the past, she couldn’t help being drawn to the broody moon-glow of a certain surly vet.

All. Night. Long.

Olive’s “go for it” advice had merit, but for as long as Rose lived, she’d never heard of “getting someone out of your system” working. There was a reason why it was used as plots in so many romance novels. The trope was a treasure trove for conflict, and she wasn’t so self-assured to think she’d be the one person to make it to the other side unscathed.

Look where it got Vi.

Witch Bonded. Married. And Mated. Albeit with her soul mate, so kismet was on her side, but luck didn’t like Rose that much. Especially lately. Plus, her life was so up in the air it nearly collided with a jetliner on the daily. Choosing what to eat for lunch was difficult enough. She couldn’t fathom nailing down what she wanted in a relationship.

No, thank you. This witch didn’t need romantic entanglements. Until her situation—or her view—changed, she’d give Mr. Wiggles a workout and maybe have a replacement model on hand in case he gave out.

“Sounds like a plan.” Temporarily distracted, Rose released her hold on the camera and held her breath for one second, then two. She opened her mouth to hoot in victory when it toppled over for the one millionth time. “Son of a…”

With a frustrated growl, Rose yanked the glue from her pocket and squirted a generous dollop beneath the base before smooshing it down on the beam. “Please stay. Please.”

She counted to twenty, and then, one finger at a time, released her hold. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t look at it sideways.

And it stayed.

“Thank Goddess,” Rose muttered.

She admired her handiwork a second before climbing down. Two rungs into her descent, her right boot slipped. Her chin smacked against the step, sending a bolt of pain straight through her jaw and her equilibrium sideways. The ladder’s weight shifted. There was no stopping the fall.

This was going to hurt.

Rose threw a panicked look beneath her to make sure neither Bella nor the puppies were anywhere they could be crushed, and then she hoped for the best. Tucking her arms over her head like a makeshift helmet, she braced for impact. A second into the fall and she landed with an oomph.

Not on the hard ground.

Not even in a hay pile.

Her body instinctively settled into a warm, firm embrace until her firm, spicy-scented chest-pillow chuckled. “Do I want to know why you’re on a ladder before the sun even makes an appearance?”

Rose’s gaze connected with Damian’s, their faces less than an inch apart as he held her in a princess carry. Gold flecks dotted his gorgeous gray irises with a slight mix of green and blue, the colors turning more vibrant the longer they stared.

As she struggled to form words, Damian’s mouth curled into a small smirk. The longer she tried saying something—anything—the more aware she became of Damian’s nakedness. Well, half-naked.

Shirtless with his tattoos on full display, he provided her with an early morning visual treat that was even sweeter than her favorite breakfast cereal. Her mouth literally salivated.

Olive was right. Something needed to be done about this dry spell. “Why are you walking around the barn without clothes?”

His lips twitched again. “Because I thought someone was breaking into the clinic to steal meds and throwing on a shirt didn’t seem as important as making sure the ketamine didn’t go missing.”

Rose glanced at her hand, reflexively playing with the hair at the base of his neck. She immediately stopped and mentally scolded herself. “As you can see, I’m not robbing you. If anything, the cameras will make it harder for anyone to do that, so you’re welcome.”

“You may not be robbing the place, but what would the Supernatural Council say about breaking-and-entering? Maybe extend your time here? Imagine how many more stalls that would be to muck out.” Damian’s eyes glittered with thinly veiled humor.