Page 48 of Witch Queens: Tales from Oz

“She isn’t mine—you are.”

CHAPTER 18

“No sex in the lobby.”

Steele’s droll tone jerked me out of whatever spell Scarecrow had been casting.

I flushed, pushing against his broad chest, needing room to breathe.

The inside of Hubert’s Tavern made Scarecrow’s dive look like a hole in the wall. It was like stepping back in time. The slate tiles on the floor ran the length of the room, meeting up with dark stained wainscoting. Above that, rock walls surrounded the interior.

I counted four large fireplaces in the main room alone. The bar of mahogany stretched along the entire west side of the room. The selection of wines and liquors was astounding.

I turned a questioning eye on Scarecrow.

His smirk warmed me to my toes, “Learning not to judge a book by its cover yet?”

“Did the same witch that spelled your apartment do this place?”

Scarecrow looked a little uncomfortable. But Steele saved him from answering.

“Your sister helped me refurbish the Tavern when I inherited it last year,” his blue eyes were unnerving. “It really is almost uncanny how much you resemble her.”

“Identical twins,” I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Then it dawned on me, if El did this, which is incredibly tricky magic, maybe she did Scarecrow’s place.

I rounded on him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His dark eyes widened, “Does it matter?”

“Hell, yeah it does,” I accused before stomping over to the bar where Steele was standing.

“Rum and Coke,” I demanded.

He didn’t hesitate before pouring my drink. I took the lime that he had placed on the side and squeezed the juice into my glass before stirring it with my straw.

I felt Scarecrow stand behind me, “Whiskey.”

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