Page 32 of War's Witch
“Boy, what did you do to her?”
“Mouthed off in front of her friends. I am the jealous type.” I wink, then she pops a hip, cocking a brow at me.
“I bet— with all that leather, facial hair, tattoos, and charm.”
I chuckle.
“What can I say, my girl loves a bad boy.”
She huffs again, before taking her pad and pen out of her apron.
“Does she have any allergies? Foods that she does not like?” I look at her dumbfounded, my eyes wide because I have no fucking clue.
Damn it.
“Oh, Jesus H Christ, you are one of those.” Shaking her head in disappointment, she sits across from me, thankful the diner is quiet right now, as it is coming to the end of the day.
“Answer me this.” I nod “Is your girl from here?”
“Yes. She works at Rugged Ink.” I see recognition enter her eyes.
“Cleo. You are telling me that your girl is Cleo?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure we are talking about the same Cleo? Blonde hair, big boobs, and legs that go on for days, with a snarky, yet quirky ball-busting attitude. That Cleo?”
I grin like a fool. “That’s the one.”
She looks at me for a split second before laughter— no hell no, she cackles like a damn wicked witch. The hairs on my arms stand on end like an electric current just ran through me. Sitting back, I look at this woman, waiting for her to stop cackling and talk to me.
After what feels like fucking hours, she stops laughing and dries her eyes, before looking me over. I feel exposed when she does this. This woman is old enough to be my grandmother, and some men are into that, but not me.
“Well, good for her.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “Nice to see I still have it.”
I frown, not sure what she means by that.
“I know what Cleo likes; I will help you out.” She is gone before I can speak.
My gaze moves to the front of the diner and I see that it has gotten even darker than when I stepped inside.
Turning back to the counter, the woman is there, and I jump.
“Fucking hell, woman, give a man a warning.” My hand goes to my rapidly beating heart.
There is not much that frightens me, but she just scared the living shit out of me.
She hands me a brown paper bag, with a moon and a witches knot.
Frowning again, I hear her chuckling.
“Go on now. Take this to Cleo, because, Mason, time has had enough of standing still.” With that, she winks and leaves.
I blink out of my daze and pick up the bag. It isn’t until I am halfway to Cleo’s house that I remember that the waitress said my name but I did not give it to her.
What the hell?
Chapter
