Page 41 of Witch Queens: Tales from Oz

“It’s not what it looks like,” I began, but Scarecrow let out another round chuckle, not even attempting to cover it up this time.

“What was it like?” Scarecrow asked, eyebrows raised as he leaned in, gently mocking me.

Images of the two of us fucking like rabbits on the pool table flooded my mind. My ass was still sensitive, although not nearly as much as it had been last night.

“You were there!” I smacked his hard chest with my fist, noting how it hurt me a whole lot more than it did him.

“I sure was,” his reply, firing back at me, “That’s why I can’t wait to hear you describe what we were doing. By all means, Indy, the floor is yours.”

Arrogant asshole, why did I ever think that this man was attractive?

My eyes traveled over his familiar features, drinking him in. My heart rate increasing as I continued down his rock-hard frame.

He stiffened, “If you don’t want a repeat performance, Indy, I suggest you quit with the eye-fucking.”

My hands flew to my cheeks. How could he say these things in front of Jake?

Jake?

“Where did Jake go?” I demanded.

Scarecrow swiped my silk bra from me.

“I think he’s washed his hands of us,” eyes dancing, Scarecrow held the skimpy material up to his chest. “So, honestly, were you more offended by the idea of one of these low life’s wearing your lingerie or that it might actually fit?”

“Argh!” I launched myself at him, trying to snatch the fabric from his fingers. He held the garment high above his head and caught me, so I didn’t fall.

His giant hand, anchoring my ass to his waist. I winced, and he stilled.

“Are you alright?” his gentle question was in such relief against our playful teasing that it didn’t only tug on my heartstrings, but tied the damn things in knots that no boy scout could ever unravel.

This is how Lucy found us. My skirt hiked up to an inappropriate degree, showing way more thigh than was necessary at nine in the morning.

Indeed, it was her fault. She had only brought a few outfits yesterday, and this was my second favorite behind the pink skinny jeans.

That damn Munchkin was worse than being caught by my mama. Her censorious eyes took in my disheveled appearance along with Scarecrow clutching my unmentionables.

It was far worse than facing Jake.

I disentangled myself from Scarecrow and straightened my navy pleated skirt that ended at mid-thigh.

“I assume that you haven’t heard from the Mayor?” Lucy sighed, and I noticed that she had large bags underneath her eyes.

“No,” I replied, “Is he looking for me?”

She barked out a laugh that held little to do with humor. “Looking for you? Not even close, Indy. He has proclaimed you legally dead.”

Scarecrow bristled, his protective arm pulling me into his side.

“What the fuck?” he growled.

Lucy nodded, “My sentiments exactly, but it is all right here in the morning paper.”

She pulled it out from her purse, and we read the front-page news.

'As Mayor of Munchkin City, in the county of The Land of Oz,

I would like to extend a formal welcome to Dorothy of Kansas on our official day of Independence.

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