Page 2 of Enduring Magic

Saul darted a resentful look toward Coop, gave Alastair a short nod, then scurried away. Or almost away. He stopped a few feet behind Summer’s father, met Coop’s eyes, and ran his paw across his throat in a cutting action.

Sweat broke out on Coop’s lower back. He was definitely sleeping with one eye open from here on out.

“He’s a squirrel, boy. He can’t really hurt you.” Alastair’s amusement got under his skin.

“He’s a familiar that carries a rusty razor blade and a grudge.”

Alastair laughed and clapped him on the back. “When I talk to my daughter, I’ll be sure to tell her you let the little rodent run all over you.”

“Of course you will.” Coop picked up his spatula. “What brings you by today?”

“My granddaughter.” Alastair bent over and chucked her under the chin. “How is my darling poopie-doop Olivia?”

Had Coop not heard it, he would never have believed Alastair would ever stoop to anything remotely like baby talk. He opened his mouth to comment, but he met his brother’s alarmed gaze across the expanse of Alastair’s back. Eyes wide with something akin to terror, Keaton frantically shook his head.

Coop clamped his mouth shut.

“Wise decision, son,” Alastair said as he waved a hand to magically change Olivia into a clean onesie before lifting her from her high chair. When she was settled in his arms and happily tugging on his nose, he grinned. “Don’t think I didn’t feel your snarky comment forming, Cooper. Your animosity builds and becomes a pain in my left butt cheek.”

Coop desperately wanted to retort, but turned back to salvage the food on the stove instead.

“Why in the name of the Goddess are you cooking when you can conjure?” Alastair sounded as if Coop had decided to grill cow patties.

“I happen to like cooking, and what is it teaching my child if she doesn’t learn to function like a normal adult?” He glanced over his shoulder in time to witness the distaste on the other man’s face.

The pained expression on Alastair’s visage spoke volumes. “Olivia, my little muffin. What do we tell your father when he insists on treating you like an ungifted mortal child?”

“Witch! Witch!” she cried happily, patting her palms against each of her grandfather’s cheeks.

“Precisely.” Alastair grinned at her, and the love shining from his sapphire eyes made Coop remember why he didn’t argue against his future father-in-law popping in whenever he felt like it. Olivia had a mutual adoration for Alastair. “You are the smartest little witch on the planet, my dear girl.”

“Witch is the only thing she says other than Mama,” Coop said with disgust. “You’d think Daddy might be easier than witch, but no. Not for my kid.”

“She shouldn’t be talking at all at this age. She obviously gets her smarts from her mother’s side.”

Coop ignored Alastair’s droll comment as he chowed down on a slice of bacon. “Where’s Rorie?”

Usually, the man never went anywhere without his mate. After an almost twenty-year separation, the two were practically attached at the hip. Only in severely dangerous situations would Alastair leave her behind so he could neutralize any threat.

“She decided to go with her daughters on the cruise.”

Coop had picked up his coffee cup but paused with it halfway to his lips. “I’m surprised you let her.”

Alastair’s sharp bark of laughter echoed around the kitchen. “Son, have you met my wife? I don’t let her do anything. She’d make Summer’s rabid rodent look tame should I dare try to tell her what to do. And I like my ba—” He glanced down at Olivia. “Er, man bits, exactly where they are. Besides, I went on the cruise with her. I teleported at Summer’s urging.”

“She doesn’t think I can handle things without her?” Indignation curled Coop’s free hand into a fist, and he tightened his grip on his mug.

“No. She has great faith in your abilities. I, however, do not.” Alastair blew a raspberry on Olivia’s smooth, pink cheek. “I’m afraid I scared her into thinking you might burn the house down around you.”

“I almost caught the barn on fire once when I was first learning. Once. And it all worked out okay.” Coop was still defensive about the incident because Alastair liked to taunt him whenever possible.

“You really are a joy to rile, my boy.” With deep affection, he ran a hand over Olivia’s blonde curls. “Be good for your father, poopie-doop. He’s still as much a novice as you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Coop muttered darkly. He held out his hands for his daughter and felt a smidgeon of satisfaction when she dove into his waiting arms. He kissed her upturned face and cradled her against his chest. “Olivia doesn’t judge her daddy. Do you, my heart?”

“Witch!” she replied.

Coop chuckled. “Okay, maybe you do a little, huh?”

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