Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(56)

Rose’s idea-maker was already hard at work, thinking up solutions. “Maybe I can convince her to move in with me…”

“In the studio? You’d literally stumble over each other anytime the other moved. I’d have better luck.”

“A newly married, newly Mated, and newly Bonded couple?” Rose snortled and hung a right, heading down another block. “We both know she’d never agree to that. She’d sooner move back in with Mom and Dad.”

Vi cackled because none of them would subject themselves to that for whatever reason ever. They’d fought broom and cauldron to leave the first time around.

“We have to come up with something,” Rose pointed out. “At Mom’s ‘family’ dinner, she could’ve been mistaken as a Walking Dead extra without stepping foot in the makeup trailer.”

“Strength in numbers. Smart idea. You sure you don’t want me to pick you up, too? I don’t mind.”

Rose glanced up at the nearest street sign, and grinned. “I have a quick stop to make, but I’ll meet you at the restaurant. If you’re there before me, you know what I like. Go ahead and order.”

“Anything with mushrooms, got it.”

Rose rolled her eyes, grinning because Vi knew her aversion to edible fungus.

“Oh hey, before I go,” Vi added, “does this stop have anything to do with a certain handsome animal doctor?”

Well, that was a bit random. Her internal alarm system came to life. “No … why would you say that?”

“No reason. Love you!” Vi hung up.

Rose tucked her phone back in her bag. A twinge of awareness tickled the back of her neck just as a motorcycle engine roared from a distance, growing louder the closer it approached. A familiar helmet-clad head swiveled in her direction before both the man and the machine swung toward the curb.

Seeing Damian drew her to a stop.

He hadn’t changed his clothes, wearing the same dirty jeans and work shirt he’d worn at the sanctuary with his leather jacket thrown over it and the zipper undone despite the chill.

Her heart rate kicked up a notch as she forced her feet into motion. “Why do I think bumping into you isn’t coincidental?”

“Because it’s not. Your sister was all too willing to use her Find a Friend app when I told her I needed to track you down.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” Rose joked.

Damian’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “We need to talk.”

Oh hells no. Those four words never led to anything good, and she was in too pleasant a mood to listen to whatever came after.

“Sorry, I have someplace I need to be.” And pants to drop, she thought giddily. “I’ll be late if I don’t grab the Q train at the next subway stop.”

The No-Pants Express waited for no one. Rain. Shine. Hail. Gloom of night. The event held the same standards as the post office, and quite possibly, more.

Rose kept walking, and Damian sighed, leaving his Harley behind as he easily kept pace with her. “Your sisters will understand if you’re a few minutes late. Besides, if you miss the Q, you can just take the next one. They run every few minutes.”

“It’s not dinner with Vi and Olly I’m worried about being late for.” Rose couldn’t contain her smile, nor her excitement about what she was about to do.

When she’d first told Harper she’d be her proxy, she hadn’t had any real intention of going through with it. It had been more of a could I, should I, would I situation. The more she’d thought about it, the more she’d liked the idea … especially after dinner at her parents’ and dwelling on her conversation with Julius.

In all her thirty-three years, Rose Maxwell had never done anything for herself.

Okay, so that wasn’t quite true. Toddlers are well-known to be greedy little things and she’d probably been no different, but once it became clear she’d be the witch following in Edie’s footsteps?

Not one thing for herself … not even moving into Violet’s old studio apartment. Yeah, it had given her space as the world cracked and reshaped itself around her, but it also meant Vi hadn’t been charged for breaking her rental agreement months ahead of schedule.

Besides her FBA with Damian, the No-Pants Express was one of a sad few things she was doing because it was what she wanted, and both were something last year’s coiffed Rose Maxwell would have never considered. Not even in her wildest rebel fantasies, and not because of becoming potential headline fodder.

Because it was fun.

Exciting.

Joining hundreds of New Yorkers dropping their pants for an unforgettable subway ride elicited the same physical response as naked time with Damian—sans orgasms.

Well, maybe not quite … but it definitely elicited an exhilarating rush.

Rose cursed at the time and picked up her pace, weaving through the throngs of people all on their commutes home. She only slowed when the fountain came into view.

Damian, obviously irritated, glanced around the growing crowd at Union Square. “What’s this?”

Rose grinned. “The starting point.”

“What starting point?”

“Hello, fellow subway riders!” A man jumped up onto the rim of the dormant fountain, his megaphone squeaking loudly. Somewhere in his late twenties, he waved his hand for attention, and sure enough, the excited crowd slowly piped down. “Thank you all for coming out on a slightly chillier than expected day to participate in the annual No-Pants Express! You all are the bravest of the brave!”