Page 2 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

“Maybe.” There was definitely laughter in his voice this time.

“Will you use it for me?”

“Nope.”

She sighed her disappointment. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Later.”

His wicked chuckle drifted to her as she turned to go.

“Oh, Elara.”

Did she dare turn around? The temptation to bask in the light of his splendor was great, but she remained with her back to him.

“You forgot the, uh,salami.”

“Kill me now,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

As Elara hurried away, ash-blonde hair flying behind her in the December breeze, Tripp bit his lip to hold back his laughter. But the moment she turned the corner, he sobered. The day turned exceedingly duller. Yes, he’d known about her crush on him for some time, and the wicked devil inside him took every opportunity to fluster her. One could say causing her acute discomfort had become his favorite pastime.

Tripp was a demigod, although few recognized it. He wasn’t being arrogant to believe most of the women in Witchmere wanted him. Sex appeal came part and parcel with his brand of supreme magic. Hell, he practically had to fight people off with a stick, as annoying as it was.

But Elara was different.

She was quirky and cute. Her inability to look higher than his chin was charming, not irritating. And Tripp absolutely loved how she’d rather run away than attempt to seduce him. Call him twisted, but her shyness was an absolute turn-on. With one nervous glance from those large china-blue eyes, she slayed him.

“You should put that girl out of her misery. Just bend her over the barrel and show her the fifty states already. Maybe then she’d stop hiding in alleyways.”

He choked back another laugh as he shifted toward the employee entrance of the bookstore.

The gruff, smokes-two-packs-a-day voice hadn’t surprised him. He’d sensed the business owner’s presence the instant she stepped into the alley. He was, however, somewhat shocked she’d addressed him directly. Unless Florence Rose Shaw was calling to inform him his book order was ready, she refused to have anything to do with him.

Fear caused responses like hers.

Fear of the Ancient World power he possessed.

Not that he blamed her. If he wasn’t the one wielding it, he’d be wary, too.

“You surprise me, Flo.” As he strolled toward her, he shoved his fists deep in his slacks pockets. Long ago, he’d discovered it made others more comfortable if his hands were sheathed. Effortless abilities, such as his, made people sweat. “I thought you liked the girl. Surely you wouldn’t want her in the hands of an uncaring immortal.”

“I do, but watching her avoid you is downright painful. The poor chit.”

Tripp grinned. “She does it well.”

A fond smile cracked Florence’s wrinkled face. “The gel’s crafty.”

“Yes.” He half turned, closing his eyes to get a location of where Elara had gone. Zeroing in, he frowned. “Why is she meeting Harrison Cobb?”

“Is she?” Light flared as Florence touched a fingertip to her unlit, home-rolled cigarette.

“You know she is. It’s the reason she’s not at work right now.”

After a long drag, she blew smoke into the air from the corner of her mouth, away from him, and shrugged.

Instead of becoming irritated by her evasiveness, he embraced the warmth of her caring for Elara, basking in the love the older woman felt for hersupposedemployee.

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