Untamed. JoAnn Ross
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move.” Then he looked up at Tara. “I thought you were going to call the sheriff.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” she asked, glancing at the two boys who were trying to look rebellious, although it was obvious that they were scared to death of this furious, glowering man.
“Dammit, lady, in case it escaped your attention, there’s glass all over your grandmother’s parlor floor. If you’d been another foot closer to that window, you could have some of those shards embedded in your face.”
“I certainly wouldn’t have enjoyed that.” She folded her arms and studied the two young vandals again. “But I’m not certain that it’s necessary to involve the sheriff.”
“They’ve been pulling stunts like this for the past six months. It’s gotten damn expensive replacing the windows and I think it’s time they acted more responsibly.”
“I’m all for responsibility.” She paused. Her eyes slanted, she rocked back on her heels and chewed thoughtfully on a thumbnail. “But I believe that, along with having them pay for the damage, we can take care of this little problem ourselves, Gavin.”
A ghost of a smile played at the corners of her lips. “Did I mention that I inherited many of my grandmother’s powers?”
As angry as he was, Gavin couldn’t help smiling as he followed her train of thought. “Actually, I don’t believe that came up.”
“Well, although they’ve definitely proven to be a mixed blessing, I did. Which I suppose, if one wants to be annoyingly technical, makes me a witch, as well.” She flashed the boys the type of spellbinding trust-me smile that Gavin figured the wicked witch had used to lure Hansel and Gretel into her gingerbread cottage.
“I’m afraid I’m flat out of eye of newt, but I believe I saw some goat’s blood in the refrigerator. And some dried rattlesnake skin. And, of course, grandmother always kept chicken entrails in the freezer for just such occasions.”
She nodded, satisfied. “Yes, I think there are enough supplies on hand to weave a lovely black spell.” She leaned down and ran her hand over the top of the older boy’s head, ruffling his dark hair. “How would you like to be turned into a lizard?”
She flashed another smile as she turned to his companion. “With your pointy little ears, I rather see you as a bat,” she decided. “Tell me, dear—” she trailed her hand down the side of his face “—are you afraid of the dark?”
“Of course he’s not,” Gavin said, getting into the spirit of things. “After all, he’s running around out here in the woods in the middle of the night. I’d say he’s probably part night creature already.”
“That was my impression, as well,” Tara agreed. “So it’s settled.” She rubbed her hands together gleefully. “I do so love turning people into reptiles. And it’s been ages since I turned any boy into a bat.” She sighed. “I’d almost forgotten how much fun it is.”
“Want me to go light the Black Sabbath candles?” Gavin suggested.
“Thank you, Gavin. I’d appreciate the assistance. Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind, could you please get my cauldron down from the top shelf in the kitchen?”
“No problem.”
“Fine. Then we can get started. Ready for an adventure, boys?” She reached out, as if to take their hands.
“Well,” Gavin said as the boys streaked past them as if the devil himself were on their tails, “I’d say you settled that little problem. Although it’s a good thing you’re not going to stay. Because by this time tomorrow the word will be all over the country that Brigid Delaney’s granddaughter is a witch.”
“Perhaps I’ll have to tune-up my broomstick and buzz the courthouse before I leave.”
She was kidding, Gavin reassured himself as he followed her into the house. It was just a joke. Like the one she’d played on those kids.
Tara was standing in the middle of the rug, looking down at the pieces of broken glass. “It’s going to be difficult cleaning this up in the dark. I suppose it can wait until morning.”
“That’d probably be best,” he agreed. “There’s some plywood outside in the back. I’ll nail it over the window until I can replace the glass tomorrow. Luckily, I’m getting pretty handy at this.”
She glanced up at him with a surprise that he did not think was feigned. “Then you were telling the truth earlier? This happens often?”
“Often enough.” He rubbed his jaw. “You really didn’t read my letters, did you?”
“No.”
“Any special reason?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed as she decided there was no point in trying to convince him that they’d all gotten lost in the mail. “It’s difficult to explain.”
Gavin didn’t press her for an explanation. She didn’t sound all that eager to unburden herself, and frankly, he didn’t care why she’d chosen to stay away from Whiskey River.
“Relationships can get a little sticky in the best of families,” he said mildly.
“You can say that again.”
She appeared small and pale and vulnerable in the muted glow of the fireplace. Something stirred inside Gavin, something that felt uncomfortably like sympathy. Remembering all too well the last time he’d made the mistake of comforting a troubled female, he tamped down the feeling.
“I’d better go get that plywood.”
She’d sensed his interest. And his caution. She nodded, relieved he’d chosen to avoid the issue, but wondered at the edge of anger she thought she detected in his tone.
“Thank you.” She glanced around, noticing that the room didn’t look half-bad considering the house had been vacant for six months, and wondered how it would look in the bright light of day. “I’ll want to repay you for all your work.”
“That’s not necessary. It wasn’t that big a deal.”
“To me it is. You’ve done me an immense favor. It would be a great deal more difficult to sell the house if it’d been badly vandalized.”
“You’re selling?”
He should have expected it, Gavin told himself. Especially when she didn’t care enough to show up for her grandmother’s funeral. But for some reason, he didn’t like the idea of a stranger moving into Brigid’s house.
“I don’t see that I have any choice.”
“Everyone has choices,” he argued, unknowingly echoing Lina Delaney.
“Of course you’re right.” She lifted her chin, daring him to challenge the decision that had not come easily. “And since my work is in San Francisco and the demands of my career preclude my having a second home, my choice is to sell the house and invest the funds in my IRA.”
Gavin wondered if she knew exactly how much she resembled her grandmother when she stuck her chin out like that. Despite the fact that she’d been nearly three times his age, Brigid had been the most appealing—and frustrating—woman he’d ever met. And now it appeared that Tara had inherited both her appeal and her tenacity.
“I never knew a witch with a retirement account.”
“Known many witches have you, Mr. Thomas?”
“Gavin,” he reminded her yet again. “And your grandmother was the only one. That I know of.”
“Well, now you know two.” She flashed him a smile. “And this one definitely believes in financial planning.”
That siren’s smile, which he knew to be as fake as her alleged eye of newt, reached her eyes, making them gleam like