Page 3 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“Have you told her who you are yet?” he asked softly. “Does she know you’re her grandmother?”

“No.” Abruptly, she dashed the cigarette against the brick and stuffed the unused section into her cardigan. “She’ll despise me if I tell her.”

He frowned as he considered her problem. As someone who’d been around centuries, he was well aware of the standard issues mortals faced—even witchy ones. Familial relationships were the worst.

And didn’t he know it!

As the son of a goddess, he had it worse than most. Longer, too. Dearest Mommy expected him home whenever she deemed it necessary to summon him, but he was a moving target, never staying in one place long enough for her minions to find him. Eventually, she would, but Tripp enjoyed the freedom while he could.

“You’re wrong,” he told Florence. “She’s been looking for a connection since she and Payton arrived in Witchmere, and who better to connect with than the one person who owns the bookstore she adores so much?”

“She’ll inherit when I’m gone.”

His senses consumed her underlying insecurities, feasting on them to lessen her worry. “Tell her, Flo. She’ll understand.”

“What did you just do, boy?”

“Boy? That’s like callingmea cuddly puppy.” The voice was raspy and deep, traveling to them from the shadows next to the dumpster.

Tripp chuckled. “Nicely done, Sanderson.”

“Thanks. I try.” Bodhan Sanderson stepped into the light and bowed his shaggy, light-brown head.

“I know.”

For two and a half years, he’d used his wolf-shifter skills to best Tripp in an ongoing game of surprise attack, seldom gainingthe advantage. Tripp’s unfailing ability to sense magic acted as his early warning system. On rare occasions, like this one where he was distracted, Bodhan had succeeded in getting within ten feet of him, but no closer.

“Don’t you have woods to wander, cuddly puppy?” Florence shot him an irritated scowl. “And whatever you overheard with those obnoxiously large ears of yours had better remain a secret, hear?”

Thoroughly offended and made self-conscious by her comment, Bodhan reached a hand up as if to test the size of his ear.

Tripp snorted. Florence had a way of putting the townsfolk in their place, and he loved it.

“You’re one to laugh, Tripp Nightshade. Hiding out from deities like a recalcitrant schoolboy.”

His blood froze. How did she know?

With a shake of her head and a warning glare for both, she hurried through her shop door.

Bodhan winced. “She didn’t have to slam the bolt so hard. It’s not like we were chasing her or anything.”

“Don’t feel insulted. That was for my benefit.” Tripp shrugged. “She likely sprinkled wolfsbane along the door openings and is burning sage by now.”

“She might sell more books if she were a bit friendlier,” Bodhan hollered in the direction of the door.

“Go to the devil, cuddly puppy!” Florence shouted back.

“Do you think she knows she’s horrid?” he asked Tripp.

“She’s not.” Although she truly was, Tripp needed to get on her good side to find out what she knew about him, and the only way to do that was to convince her that he was a decent guy. He met Bodhan’s disbelieving gaze and shrugged. “You just have to get to know her.”

He was lucky lightning didn’t strike him dead.

Bodhan laughed, damn him.

“So Elara and Payton are her granddaughters. I didn’t see that one coming.”

“For a small town, this place has more drama than a television soap opera.” Tripp grimaced. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that under your hat, Sanderson. If you don’t, I’ll have to give into Avery Barker’s seduction, and we both know very well how you feel about her.”

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