Page 5 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“Fine. But if you bite me, you’re only getting kibble for the next week. No snacky snacks.”

“Meow.”

Knocking sounded from the other room, and Elara held her breath as she considered her options. Her sister had a key, and if she’d forgotten it, she could unlock the door using magic. Odds were she wouldn’t knock. It wasn’t as if she had friends and no one else ever bothered to come by.

Her traitorous heart perked up, sure it was Tripp. But Elara shut that shit down. Two factors were fighting against her hope. One, he didn’t know where she lived; two, he had another to occupy his time. Rowen Sanderson. She was one of many townies and was beautiful in every way. It didn’t hurt that she had her shit together, unlike Elara.

“Elara.”

She sat up so fast and straight that had anyone seen her, they’d believe a cattle prod was inserted up her rump.

“Tripp,” she whispered in horror to Hex. “What do I do?”

“You open the door,” Tripp called.

She frowned.

How the hell had he heard her?

Shaking her head, she flopped onto her back. She was dreaming. She had to be.

“Elara, open the damned door.”

“Go away,” she hollered. “I’m napping!”

Her door flew back on its hinges. From her spot on the bed, she watched in stunned amazement as Tripp’s curious gaze surveyed his surroundings before it landed on her. She launched herself from the bed as if her ass caught fire, causing Hex to hiss his irritation. And, like any annoyed feline looking to show his displeasure, he hiked a leg and began licking his balls.

“Manners, Hex,” she reminded him.

The cat ignored her.

“Rude,” she muttered.

When she looked up, it was to find Tripp leaning against the doorjamb of her bedroom, arms crossed and a wide grinon his perfect face. Anger brewed inside her belly like a boiling cauldron, ready to bubble over.

Of all the arrogant, self-assured Neanderthals!

“Why the blue blazes did you break into my place, and why shouldn’t I call Dailey Cobb to come arrest your gorgeous ass?” She managed to stop her jaw from dropping. Why the hell did every thought pop out of her mouth around him?

His dark eyes gleamed with unholy amusement, but he merely watched her.

“Don’t think I won’t you… you… you scoundrel!”

Proud of herself, she squared her shoulders and glared.

His black brows shot up, but he remained mute, thereby causing her meltdown. Why did no one listen to her? Where was the respect she tried hard to earn?

“You’re a good-for-nothing gigolo, determined to leave a trail of broken hearts in your wake with your wide shoulders and devil-may-care attitude. Does Rowen know you’re here? Probably not!”

As per usual, Tripp allowed Elara to ramble on and dig herself in deeper. During her sputtering stand, she used the heels of her hands and swiped at the tears from her fresh, makeup-less face. The sight of her upset caused his stomach to sour. He’d been on his way to speak with her when Rowan thought flinging herself in his arms would be a good idea. Understanding her aim was to annoy Harrison, who happened to be glancing out the window at that precise moment, Tripp did nothing to stop her.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t planned for Elara to leave the building right then. Hell, she’d had another fifteen minutes left of her appointment. How was he to know she’d choose that exact second to walk out the door? He’d tried to tell himself he wasn’t doing anything wrong by allowing Rowan to play her games,but Elara’s feelings had been caught in the crossfire, and her expression was like a fucking gut punch.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unfolding his arms and straightening.

“You should be. You can’t just go around breaking into women’s apartments. No wonder half the town thinks you’re?—”

“No, Elara. I’m not sorry for storming the gates. I’m sorry about Rowen.”

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