Page 126 of Blue Moon Mistress

“And,” I add, “she’s Aphrodite’s mom. So she definitely doesn’t like us now that I’ve snitched on her daughter.”

The oven chimes, and a moment later, Elaria’s counter is covered in breakfast options that shouldn’t have been able to cook at the same temperature for the same time… But that’s a secret that kitchen witches usually keep to themselves.

We eat while Johnny quizzes her on half a dozen things. He seems particularly curious about the German pancake she made for me. Suspicious of the simplicity.

“I hate to eat and run, but I am ready to go home.”

Elaria waves her hand. “I know, I know. You hate it here.” She hugs me and I know it’s partially to use me to block the sink from view as she moves her hand over it.

The dishes are clean, but it usually freaks people out to see it. I’m not even sure she’s aware that she’s hidden the action. It’s probably just habit by now.

Once again, Johnny takes all of our bags to the car in one go and Elaria looks after him with a pensive twist to her mouth. “Maybe I need to stop looking at witches and find a wolf pack of my own.”

“We’re tamer than most,” Joshua says with an apologetic smile.

When we pile in the car, Johnny’s in the driver’s seat, Joshua’s up front with him, and once again, I’m snugly between the other two.

“Is there anything else you want to do while we’re up here?” Johnny asks as he starts the car.

“Nope. There are several different reasons why I left. Don’t need to revisit any of them.”

“Cool, let’s go home.”

“Mine or yours?” I ask, chuckling.

“Ours.” Johnny says with a nod.

“But it could definitely be yours if you want it to be.” Chase’s smile is wicked and I swat at his hand as he starts to pull my skirt up.

“No distracting the driver.”

“He wasn’t the one I planned to distract.”

I shake my head at them, catching a sharp glint off the glass of a car that pulled away from the curb at the same time we did.

It is very clearly following us.

A familiar pair of glasses are the only thing visible in the dark of the car’s interior.

Martha Lourdes.

Let her make sure we leave town. The woman can think she’s chasing us out. I don’t care.

We takethe coast road home, winding down the 101 arguing about the quality of movie remakes and cover songs.

Each time the gray water of the Pacific peeks into view from between the thick stands of evergreens, Chase turns to it as though it draws him.

But it’s not until we’ve passed Florence that he says anything about it. “I hate that it’s too cold to actually enjoy the beach.”

“It’s technically always too cold to enjoy the beach.”

“True… maybe we should take you somewhere itdoesget warm enough.”

I swat his hand once more when he tries to crawl it up my skirt again, and then lean forward, pointing off the road as we reach the tiny town set just off the hillside. “Pull over?”

“What are we doing here?”

“Just a small amount of penance.”

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