Page 70 of Wicche Hunt

When he got close, he slowed again, coming to a standstill in the road. Cars honked and drove around him, but he was transfixed. Hopefully not in a bad way. If the gallery short-circuited his brain, I couldn’t drive this thing. I could probably just call for Declan, though. He’d hear me.

Bracken began driving again. “I need to turn around, which is tricky on these narrow roads.”

I pointed to Declan’s property. “You can use his parking lot to turn around. I know the owner. It’s okay.”

Bracken turned on his signal, slowed, and went through the open gate. He was doing a three point turn when Declan walked out of the construction zone to watch.

I rolled down the window and waved. Declan’s expression lightened immediately. We were no longer trespassers to be dealt with. His grin made my stomach flutter.

“Bracken, can you stop for a minute so I can say hi?”

He did and Declan came over.

“What are you doing up there?” he said. “I thought you were still sleeping.” He stepped up on something. Running board? Wheel? He rested his arm on the window frame and then leaned in to kiss me.

Every time. He made my insides go funny every time. “Sorry. I meant to call but I had multiple messages from my mom. Her teashop was broken into, and she needed me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is everyone all right?”

I nodded. “It happened in the middle of the night. You know, now that I think about it, I’m not sure what happened to the possessed man who helped her trash the place.” Damn, Calliope was wrecking lives left and right. “Declan, this is my Uncle Bracken. Bracken, this is my boyfriend Declan.”

Declan nodded and Bracken returned it.

“We just met this morning. He needs a place to park his motorhome and I suggested the parking lot on the far side of the gallery.”

“Good idea.” Declan didn’t make it obvious but his nostrils flared and I knew he was scenting Bracken, probably trying to figure out why we’d only just met and why Bracken wouldn’t meet his gaze for more than a second. “You know, if that doesn’t work, you can use my property as well. You have options.”

I knew what he was doing, and it made my insides flutter more frantically. Bracken was an unknown and he wanted him closer to himself than me.

“Thank you.” Bracken’s voice sounded strained.

“Bracken, Declan is a Quinn. His father was Alexander Quinn. Did you ever meet him?”

That did it. Bracken turned to study Declan. “Yes. I see. You favor your father. I did meet him. Many years ago. I was researching the history of lycanthropy. I have a book here—” He started to get up, but the seat belt kept him in place. “Oh, of course.” He fumbled with the belt, but I rested a hand on his arm.

“Perhaps another time.”

He stopped struggling and nodded.

“I’d be very interested in anything you could tell me,” Declan said. “My father was killed when I was young. I’m afraid I don’t remember much about either of my parents.”

Bracken seemed to be trying to settle himself. “I can locate the book for you.”

“How’s construction going today?” I asked.

“Good. We’re done with the tearing down and are about to start building new.” He played with a coil of hair that had blown out the window. “How about if I bring over dinner when I’m done for the day?”

“Sounds great.”

“Good.” He looked over at Bracken. “Will you join us?”

Bracken shook his head while he continued to stare out the windshield at the ocean across the road.

“Okay. We need to go,” I said. “We need to see if my place works for Bracken.” I kissed him. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Declan hopped off the side of the motor home and waved as he walked back toward the barn. He stopped and turned. “Oh, remind me I need to ask you a favor.”

“What is it?”

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