Not Your Ex's Hexes (Supernatural Singles, #2)(98)

Damian leaned against the wall, his chest aching from the inability to take a deep breath. It felt like a lot more had walked away than his brother, his fuck buddy, and her sister.

It felt like his damn heart had disappeared, too.





25





Supernatural Scooby Squad


Damian’s lame attempt to put distance between them had hurt more than Rose anticipated, and the shock of it had—at first—thrown her for a loop. Then as Olive had sat in the passenger seat of Julius’s Audi, sending out an SOS to the rest of their group, Rose’s shock had slowly turned to anger.

Now on the bottom-level gym of Vi and Linc’s brownstone, she took her aggravation out on a small army of sparring dummies, hurling Magic at the stuffed figures, one zap after another until they melted down to the floor.

If only she could deal with a certain half-demon veterinarian the same way.

The front door opened, and Harper’s soft curse echoed through the room. “Shit. We should’ve forgone the boozy ice cream and brought the straight booze.” She glared at everyone accusingly. “Why did no one tell me this called for the hard hitters?”

Rose let her hands drop to her sides, the first time in close to an hour. The marathon Magic use had worked her into a good sweat. Who the hell needed Zumba?

“What boozy flavors did you bring?” Rose downed a nearby water bottle in one long series of chugs.

Harper peeked into the bag. “Cherry Champagne. Brownie Whiskey Cake. And Cake Batter Vodka.”

“Toss me the vodka … and I hope you bought more than one.”

“Do you take me for an amateur?” She scoffed and handed her a pint along with a spoon. “I learned from the Great Lincoln Fuck-Up that it’s always best to have additional vodka.”

“Hey,” Linc complained. “I made up for it, didn’t I?”

Vi patted his arm affectionately. “Yes, you did, babe.”

Rose stuck a heaping spoonful of vodka batter in her mouth, and for good measure, sent a final magical bolt to the only remaining half-melted dummy. It hit with a loud crackle, snapping the poor guy in half. “If only that had been a certain jerk-turd veterinarian…”

Olive stole a glance at Harper. “How many of the vodkas did you get?”

“Four. You think we need more?”

Julius looked around curiously. “This may be a stupid question, but why would you need more?”

“Because Rose Maxwell doesn’t resort to name-calling unless she’s really pissed.”

“And I’m really pissed.” Rose whirled on Julius, waving her petal-pink plastic spoon under his nose. “What the hell is your brother thinking? Or is he not thinking at all? Huh?”

He lifted his hands in surrender. “I haven’t the slightest, love. In case you didn’t realize, we’re not the heart-to-heart-talk kind of brothers. But my guess is it has something to do with Callie.”

“Whoa. Pause and rewind.” Vi blinked, confused. “Callie? The woman you met at the winery opening? The one who offered you the job with Sparks of Hope?”

Rose snortled humorlessly and shoveled another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “Did I forget to mention that lovely, karma-sucktastic fact? Yeah. That lovely, sweet witch who thought I’d make the perfect partner is the ex.”

“The ex what?”

“The. Ex. She’s the witch who hexed Damian when he was a teenager, dooming him to a life without knowing what it’s like to love someone.”

Vi’s mouth opened and closed, and opened again.

“Exactly.” Rose nodded. “I obviously can’t take the job now.”

“You were thinking about taking the job?” Olive asked.

“I was considering it. Life has made it obvious that I epically suck at everything else, but now that plan went up in a puff of smoke, too. As did all the work at the sanctuary because…” She flailed her hands in Julius’s direction.

Hell, they swam in the same gene pool. It was close enough.

Julius almost looked guilty. “You don’t suck at Hunting.”

All heads swiveled his way.

“You don’t. You probably think I was sweet-talking you to get my way, and yeah, there was a bit of that happening, but you are incredible at it, Rose,” Julius admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know why we haven’t brought more witches into the program, but if you want a spot, it’s yours.”

She tried—and failed—to see any kind of motive behind his words. “Are you forgetting the Times Square debacle with a certain lovelorn she-demon?”

He waved it off. “That was my fault. Hunting isn’t something you can just fall into, and if you are serious about giving it a go, I’ll make it happen. I already have the perfect trainer in mind … and before you ask, it’s not my—”

She shot him a warning glare.

“Him,” Julius finished, refraining from saying Damian’s name.

Sitting next to her, Olive reached for one of the unopened ice creams. “So why can’t you take the job with Sparks of Hope? I mean, if it’s something you really want to do.”

Everyone looked at the youngest Maxwell triplet.

“She hexed Damian. I get it. Bad, bad witch. But she didn’t hex you. Her company has done amazing work all over the world. Imagine what you could accomplish if the two of you put your magical brains together.”