Page 33 of Wicked Witchmas: Elara & Tripp

The woman glanced around as if just noticing the crowd. A slight frown marred her brow, and her eyes appeared distressed. “Oh, my.”

“I’ll tell you what. How about I make you a nice cup of tea, and you wait in the reading area with one of your new books?” Payton suggested, wrapping an arm around the petite woman’s shoulders. “I promise, it’s no bother at all,” she added, cutting through an apologetic protest.

Elara marveled for the millionth time at how easily her sister handled people. Her unique brand of charm and million-watt smile got her whatever she wanted.

Except for approval from Mayor Cobb.

Speak of the Devil…

The sour-faced woman was next in line, and her glare spoke volumes. “When did Payton return to town?”

“This week.” Elara accepted the stack of hardbacks and began scanning the barcodes. “Will there be anything else for you today, Mayor?” she asked, accepting her credit card.

“Not unless you can send that girl back under the rock she crawled from.”

Fury exploded in Elara’s brain. This snobby twatasaurus was the reason for her sister’s unhappiness! Mary-Alice Cobb had some freaking nerve coming into Payton’s place of employment and starting her special brand of stinky-ass shit!

Whipping out Flo’s sharpest pair of shears, Elara cut the Mayor’s card in two.

“Declined!” she snapped.

“What?”

“Yeah, sorry. Looks like you’re overdrawn,” Elara declared in a ringing voice, making sure the customers at the end of the line heard. “That’sembarrassing, huh,Mayor?”

“You little bi?—”

“Careful,” Tripp warned from behind Elara.

She squeaked her surprise, like the mouse he’d nicknamed her. His arm encircled her waist in a protective gesture as he leaned toward Payton’s nemesis.

“Insulting her insults me, Mayor,” he said in a silky tone. “I promise you, you donotwant to do that.”

But Mary-Alice refused to be cowered and sneered her disgust. “Mark my words, Tripp Nightshade. You’ll come to regret defending those good-for-nothing Hawthornes.”

“Doubtful,” he snapped.

Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed loud enough to vibrate the floor. The windows rattled, and the overhead chandeliers swayed.

From the corner of her eye, Elara detected movement. She waited until the Mayor sped on her way before she looked that way.

Dailey Cobb was resting a shoulder against the bookcase. With his thumbs tucked into his utility belt and booted feet crossed at the ankles, he appeared to be an indolent officer without a care in the world despite witnessing the confrontation with his mother.

The cold-eyed stare he graced her with sent a chill along her spine.

“That goes for you, too, Cobb,” Tripp said, shifting to stand between them. “The Hawthornes are under my protection.”

“Noted, Mr. Demigod,” Dailey replied with a mocking twist of his lips.

Fuck.

Word had spread about what Tripp was, and challenges would pour in soon, as they did wherever he landed. As a demigod, he was the top dog in town, and all the other wannabe alphas were quick to pick a fight they couldn’t win. As a hella-powerful warlock, Dailey Cobb might become a major problem.

The urge to ask if he’d been the one to produce the thunderous display was strong, but Tripp let it go. He’d discover the cause in due time.

In his distraction, he’d forgotten Elara’s fighting spirit was enhanced by the dreaded boots, and he wasn’t prepared for her shove. He almost fell into the credenza, doubling as a gift-wrapping station behind the counter.

“I’m sorry about your mother, Dailey,” she said, charging forward and slapping the mutilated credit card in the officer’s hands. “But if either of you think you’re going to harass my sister, you’re grossly mistaken.”

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