CHAPTER SIX
After my dunking and subsequent near drowning, I needed a nap. Or a ‘toes up’ as they reportedly say in Wimberley. I was careful to set my alarm because naps had been causing near-misses lately. It had been made clear to the contestants that, if we missed our transportation, scheduled to arrive at nine o’clock, we’d be out of luck.
At eight, I enjoyed a long hot shower, gave myself a close shave and the Willem’s-best mussed hairdo.
Why wouldn’t they just say what they wanted us to wear? Lot less stress.
Maybe that was the point. Maybe they wanted us to feel off our game. I wished I had rented black tie before I’d left L.A. It’s always better to be overdressed. Right?
Too late to worry about that. So I got out my black jeans, my black zipper ankle boots, and a red raw silk shirt with extra pointed collar. I hadn’t planned to wear that, just threw it in at the last minute. I pulled the ironing board out of the closet and pressed it in the room. I thought it draped my body in a way that accentuated the width of my shoulders and the vee of my waist, so I left the tail out.
They kept saying that the right person couldn’t do the wrong thing, or something like that. So taking them at their word, I took one last look in the mirror and left for the ultimate contest.
There were a handful of guys waiting for the elevator as I passed it by. I saw that they’d opted for dark suits or tuxes. Couldn’t fault them for that. If I’d given it more thought, I’d have done the same.
I nodded and kept going. I figured the hotel had a grand staircase that went all the way to the top floor because somebody thought it would be used.
Stepping out onto the hotel porch, I saw more suits. There was no point fretting over it, as my grandmother would say.
Right on time, three black stretch limos pulled up in a line just as it was getting dark. Easy math. Eighteen rooms in the hotel. Eighteen contestants, six to a car. I decided to try the shotgun trick again. I walked up to the driver of the first vehicle.
“Hey, I’m Willem,” I said.
“Yes. Good evening, Mr. Draiocht.”
“I was wondering if anyone’s claimed the passenger seat in front.”
His jaw went slack from surprise, but he recovered quickly and chuckled. “No one has, Mr. Draiocht. Would you like to sit up front?”
“Love to. I didn’t get your name.”
“Anselm, sir,” he said as he opened the passenger door for me.
I settled in feeling like I’d scored a coup. While the other guys would be riding sideways on bench seats, giving each other the stink eye, I’d be looking forward like God intended, seeing where I was going, just the way I liked it.
When we pulled away, I said, “How long have you been driving, Anselm?”
“You mean how long have I had a chauffeur license? ‘Bout six years.”
“Do you work out of Austin or San Antonio?”
“Nope. Wimberley.”
I looked at him with open disbelief. “From what I’ve seen of Wimberley, I’d be surprised that the locals could keep you busy.”
He smiled and gave me a sideways glance. “Busy enough. Sometimes I take jobs elsewhere.”
We began our ascent, winding up through the hills that mirrored what we’d seen at the Orientation, palatial villas dotting the hillscape like gems. Within five minutes we pulled up to a guardhouse at a massive outer iron gate. When Anselm lowered the window and showed himself, the guard opened the gate. We drove inside about twenty feet and waited while the gate closed behind us. When it was secure the inner gate opened and we drove forward.
I looked behind us. “Are the other two cars going through that same process?”
Anselm looked amused. “You’ve got a lot of questions for somebody who hasn’t won yet, Mr. Draiocht. You just concentrate on gettin’ yourself a witch. Tonight that should be the only thing on your mind.”
Should it? I still wasn’t sure what I was even doing in a limo in Wimberley, Texas, having just passed through a security setup that would do the mafia proud.
The climb quickly went from a gentle slope to steep ascent.
“Wow. Great for skateboarding.”
Anselm chuckled. “I hear some of the young ladies use the incline for just that purpose. Personally I don’t get it. Beating yourself up like that?” He shook his head.
We turned into a lane lined with trees on both sides that gave no clue as to where we might be headed, but within a minute it opened onto an estate that would put most of Beverley Hills to shame. There were tiers of gardens, each with room for car parking tastefully worked into the design. It was unique, charming, and practical.
The house looked like a grand English manor with gas light sconces every few feet. The design was centuries old, but the house was flawlessly new.
“Here you are, sir,” said Anselm. “If you wait, I’ll come ‘round and open the door for you.”
I grinned. “No need. Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.” He smiled and touched the bill of his chauffeur’s cap.
I could hear music coming from the house as soon as I opened the car door. Suited young men were spilling out of limousines and heading toward the open door. I filed in behind them, feeling a rush of excitement to finally learn why I’d let myself get caught up in this mysterious pursuit of the last thing I wanted, a wife. I was too curious to withdraw from the competition once I found out what it was about. Certainly I’m not the marrying sort. I’ve known that about myself since I was a child.
Some of the winners were in the foyer greeting contestants as we arrived. There was a large living room to the left, where the music was coming from. I craned my neck around a couple of fellow contestants and saw that it was a lone musician with two keyboards, a mic, and a guitar sitting off to the side. It was very impressive. He was managing to make a lot of decent-sounding music for a solo act, kind of a pop/new age fusion.
I noticed Kellan, but that wasn’t surprising. He’s the sort of guy who gets noticed by women and men. I’ll bet that, if he’d tried acting, he would have gotten every role he went for. That aside and, more to the point, he was wearing a linen sports coat open over a concert tee, with jeans and runners. As I passed by him, he caught my eye and said, “Lots of food. Lots of drink. Feel free to wander around, but be sure to spend time in the ballroom so you can mingle. You can’t win if you don’t play.”
He smiled as if that held some deep and secret meaning and was not just the everyday expression people use to describe why they buy lottery tickets. It also felt like it was being said for me alone, but I quickly shook that thought away and chalked it up to imagination. I wasn’t special. Just another guy in the cattle call line waiting to be auditioned for a part I wasn’t sure I wanted.
Life is strange.
I fell in with the flow of the crowd. The first room I passed on my right had a few benches and chairs around the walls, but the feature was a mountain of oysters on the half shell on ice. It was such a ridiculous display of wealth it was almost obscene. Standing at the doorway staring probably made me look like the guy who’d never been to the city, but it was amazing by anybody’s standards.
A big paw landed on my shoulder hard.
“Hey, hero.” I turned and found myself at eye level with Raider’s larynx. I had to tilt my head back to see his face. Nodding at the oysters, he said, “Flown in from Alaska this morning. This month may not end in an R, but these babies are goo-ood.”
I looked at the oysters again. “They look good.”
“Yeah,” he said. “They are. Just like life here.”
Raider was wearing a black Henley, olive-colored cargo pants and black biker boots. At least one guy was more casual than I was.
“Looks like,” I agreed.
“You know the way to the ballroom?”
“Uh, no.”
“Come on. I’ll take you. Least I can do for the guy who tried to save my life.” He laughed at that and slapped me on the shoulder again, hard enough that I almost lost my footing.
Thinking that saying no to Raider was a bad idea, I let him show me to the ballroom. We passed a few more rooms with mega food displays, each display of opulence trying to outdo the one before. It was clear they wanted to impress somebody.
Raider turned to the left down a hallway that appeared to be taking us to a different wing. The music from the entrance had faded away and I was beginning to hear strains of medieval wind and wire coming from ahead. Apparently it called to my subconscious because I realized I’d quickened my steps as we approached.
We passed windows that looked out onto an immense greenhouse built on a tier a few feet lower than the main house.
“That’s where they grow herbs and, you know, stuff. Some flowers, too. You know,” Raider said.
No. Not sure that I did know anything except that I didn’t want to argue with Raider.
“That’s nice.”
He chuckled. “So. Not into horticulture, I guess. Me neither.”
We were nearing a pair of big double doors, six feet wide, eight feet high. As we approached they swung inward in front of us as if they were feather light, like magic. But that magic couldn’t begin to compare with what was inside.
Three dozen crystal chandeliers lit the rectangular room, which actually formed a separate wing of the house. The forty-foot ceiling was covered in murals of mythological creatures most of which I could identify. Broad terraces, romantically lit by gas lights, were built on both sides of the room, with a series of French doors. Since the night was nice, the doors had been left open so that guests could come and go.
Wait staff moved smoothly between conversational clusters offering various drinks and all manner of hors d'oeuvres from light to heavy, common to exotic.
The music was even more compelling inside the ballroom. A four-piece ensemble, wearing medieval costume, were playing dulcimer, flute, Celtic harp, and fiddle. I thought I’d never heard anything so enchanting.
It’s hard to explain how I was able to take all this in and process it well enough to tell you what I saw, because nothing I’ve described could begin to compare with, what I assumed were, the witches.
There were about twenty, each wearing a cocktail dress the same value of red as my shirt. People in L.A. like to tell themselves constantly that no other city has so many beautiful women. All I can say is that those fools have never been to a Witches’ Ball in Wimberley.
“So, you’re one of us!” said a bright voice from behind me.
I turned to see a woman with mahogany hair and deep blue eyes. Her lipstick was the same color as her dress and only one description fitted her. Stunning.
“Excuse me?”
She nodded at my chest. “Your shirt. You seemed to know the exact right thing to wear.”
I looked down at my shirt stupidly as if I’d forgotten what I was wearing. “I was actually worried about the choice until just now. Thank you for the reassurance.”
She laughed. “You shouldn’t need reassurance, Willem. You’re all that. Don’t you know? I’m Harmony.”
“Hi. I’m… well, I guess you already know…” I trailed off.
She laughed again. “Don’t be nervous, Willem. You have no reason to be.”
She took my arm in hers and began walking toward the center of the room. I had no choice but to let her guide me. Well, I suppose that’s not true. I could have jerked away and said, “Keep your hands to yourself, bitch”, but going along seemed like a much better idea. And besides I was curious as to what was going to happen next.
“Are you one of the, um, prizes?”
She smiled up at me. “We’re not supposed to say. Only those of us who are close to debutante age attend these events. It works on two levels. The contestants don’t know who’s coming out and there are enough of us to form a quorum.”
“A quorum?”
“A body of sufficient number to make a decision for the extended group.”
“So any of the lovely ladies might be…”
She nodded. “So you met my little sister.”
“Destiny? She’s your sister?”
“Yeah.” Harmony chuckled. “You made an impression.”
“I made an impression?!? Whatever my impression was, it doesn’t come close to the illusion she cast. I thought I saw a black bear vanish from the middle of the street and reappear on the hotel porch as a shame-faced Beagle.”
Harmony shook her beautiful head. “So you met Izzy, too. She didn’t tell me that. He has a bear fantasy.”
“She said that.”
“And it wasn’t an illusion. If you win, you’re going to have to get used to seeing reality from a different perspective.”
I stopped. “How different?”
“You like your life right now?”
“That’s kind of personal.”
“It’s a personal night. Answer.”
“No.”
“Do you want to like your life?”
“That’s a stu… I mean, of course. Everybody wants to like their lives.”
She turned and faced me. “No, Willem. Everyone doesn’t. Lots of people are satisfied with the misery they know.”
I wished I could say I had no idea what she was talking about, but the truth was that I knew exactly what she meant.
“People can change.” I stopped, having just added two and two. “Destiny said her sister was coming out tonight. Since you’re her sister, does that mean that…?”
“No, but nice try. It’s another sister.”
“Oh.” I’m sure I looked disappointed. “Does she look like you?”
She grinned, ignoring my question. “Now here’s what you’re going to do.” She patted my captive arm with her free hand. “Mingle. Chat with all the women. At midnight, the two who have summoned husbands will announce their choices and the ceremony will be tomorrow.”
“Ring the bell, snuff out the candle?”
Her blue eyes opened wide. She was surprised, but she didn’t seem angry. “That is part of the ceremony. How did you…?”
“Harmony. Who have we here?” One of the other witches was standing close and demanding to be introduced.
“Lyra, this is Willem.”
“Oh, yes. Willem. Are you having fun?”
“I, ah, yes. I just got here.”
“Have you had something to eat? We wouldn’t want you to be hungry and there’s so much food!”
“I’ll never forget the food.”
She barked out a laugh. “You hope!”
It took me a second to catch up and remember about the memory wipe thing.
“Well, yeah, I guess I do hope I remember. You could hide a body under the oysters.”
Her grin resolved into a smile. “So tell me what you’re going to do with your life if you win, Willem.”
“You know, that still sounds like one of those what-would-you-do-if-you-got-a-million-dollars questions. It feels too unreal to take seriously.”
She nodded. “A good solid honest answer. I like that.” After studying me for a few seconds, she said, “Okay. You passed my test. Let me introduce you to Lilith.”
She turned me around when she took my arm and, as she did, I happened to catch a heated look exchanged between Harmony and Raider. It was an, “Ah ha,” moment immediately followed by an, “Oh, crap,” moment when I realized that, if I won Harmony’s sister, Raider would be my brother-in-law. I understood why he was happy enough to star in the Orientation video and babysit inexperienced canoers on the river. She was a catch and he knew it.
I decided there were worse things than being in Raider’s family. He didn’t actually finish drowning me in the river, but at the time it felt like he was trying. On the other hand, he insisted on showing me to the ballroom. And he called me ‘hero’.
Who couldn’t get used to that?
I was ushered from one beautiful woman to the next and each took measure of me in her own way. It was an interview, or audition, but it was the most pleasant I’d ever experienced. Or ever would, I was sure.
Still, after an hour or so, I was getting hungry. When Bless tried to walk me to another chat, I balked.
“Hey, could you maybe give me a couple of minutes to partake of some of the amazing feast stations? I haven’t eaten and that guy in the other part of the house carving that prime rib really spoke to me.”
Bless had a laugh that didn’t exactly sound like tinkling bells, but reminded me of them just the same. “Certainly, Willem. Would you like me to accompany you?”
“That would be…” I happened to look away and notice that most of the conversational groups in the room consisted of clusters of contestants, not a witch in sight. I realized that was what I’d been seeing the whole time whenever I looked away from the woman I was talking with. “Bless, I hope this isn’t an inappropriate question, but am I getting special treatment?”
She treated me to an extra big helping of her tinkling bells laugh. “Willem, you’re quite perceptive. And you’ve passed my test.”
“You know, you’re the sixth or seventh person to say that to me. Is this a gauntlet of gorgeous women in sexy red dresses?”
Again the laugh. “I love that description. You’re quite a character, Willem. You would fit in around here.” As she smiled at me, she grabbed the elbow of another beauty passing by. “Glory, this is Willem.”
When Glory smiled, I knew how she came by her name. “Hi, Willem.”
“He’s hungry and headed in the direction of prime rib.”
“Of course he is. I don’t see a man like this eating watercress.”
“Yes, well, perhaps you’d like to accompany him while he dines.”
Glory seemed as ecstatic as if she’d won the prize herself. “Of course! Willem. I’d be honored.”
She slipped her arm in mine and walked me to the prime rib. “What would you like with that?” she asked. “While Raleigh is slicing your rib just the way you want it, I’ll gather up something to go with it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, you know.”
“Okay, then. Caesar salad. And did I see au gratin potatoes?” She nodded. “That should do.”
She pointed to a table at the rear of the room. “I’ll meet you right there.”
She was there with salad and spuds before I arrived with a hunk of prime rib that smelled so good it was all I could do to not face plant into the plate and tear into it with my teeth. The promise of Bearnaise sauce on the side helped me keep it together so that I managed to preserve enough dignity to sit and take a few bites of salad before digging into my current reason for living with fork and knife.
Out of nowhere a waiter appeared on my right pouring red wine into my glass. That was followed by a delivery of ice water seconds later.
“You’ve eaten?” I asked Glory, who sat smiling with her legs crossed as if there was nothing in the universe she’d rather be doing than watching me eat.
“Much earlier.”
Someone appeared with a mint garnished drink that I hadn’t heard Glory order.
“I’ve decided that Wimberley must have the best service in the world. I’m certain the Queen of England is envious.”
She smiled. “She might be. But you know, you get what you pay for, Willem.”
“So I’ve heard. I’m just a middle class boy from Alabama so I wouldn’t have much personal experience in that department.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who thinks of Golden Bull Buffet as a special occasion.”
“I had some nice times courtesy of my agent. Learned the difference between a fruit fork and a soup spoon.”
“Your agent? Oh, that’s right. You were an actor.”
“How is it that everyone seems to know so much about me? Have you memorized bios on all fifty contestants? And come to think of it, why did you say ‘were an actor’?”
“First, yes. We look over incoming guests. Second, some of us just learn names, some of us read more and have good recall. Third, you told our people in L.A. that you’re done with acting. That puts it in the past tense, right?”
“Right. So, should I be asking questions about you?”
She grinned. “You’re funny, Willem.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you have been asking questions.”
Hearing her say it out loud, I realized that was true.
“This prime rib is indescribable. And the wine, he didn’t ask me for a preference, but I’ve gotta tell you. It’s amazing.”
“If you win, you’ll eat whatever you want when you want it. As far as the staff goes, they’re very skilled at reading people and anticipating needs.”
“Or desires.”
“You’re quick, Willem. I like that. And you’ve passed my test. You’ve made quick work of that rib. Want more?”
I sat back and put both hands on my stomach. “I’ve eaten more in the past two days than I’d normally eat in a week. No. I’m good.”
“Well, maybe coffee and dessert later. I know several people who would be very happy to keep you company when you’re ready.”
“That’s nice.”
“Meantime, let’s get back to business. We have a few more people to introduce you to.”
True to her word, Glory delivered me into the hands of another knockout who then passed me on to someone else. I’d counted how many beautiful creatures I’d talked to over the course of the evening and, if I wasn’t woozy from too much alcohol, I was carrying a total of twenty-nine. That meant there was one to go.
I was ushered toward the last inquisitor at twenty minutes before midnight. She had her back to me and was chatting with four contestants. She had long black hair falling in shiny waves down a backless dress that revealed just the right amount of muscle under flawless skin. The dress was a perfect complement to her hourglass figure.
“Ravish, this is Willem.”
When she turned around, I felt the hair follicles on my head stand straight up, joining the goosebumps that suddenly popped out all over my body. I know I lost my breath for a minute. It was the woman from the portrait, but in the flesh. She was even wearing the same dress.
Her pale green eyes swept over my face, down my body and back up, just before she smiled with lips the same color as her dress.
“Hello, Willem.” Her voice was as sultry as a siren and beckoned me to lean in unconsciously. “Let’s go outside on the terrace.”
I think that, if she’d said let’s jump into a cauldron of boiling oil, I would have taken her hand and agreed. It only took a moment for me to decide that I had to have her, even if it meant killing every other contestant with my bare hands to get rid of the competition.
“Alright,” was the best I managed.
As the others had done before her, she slipped her hand through the crook of my elbow, but unlike the others before her, I felt a weird sort of tingly sensation from the contact.
“Are you having a good time?” she asked.
I was a little taller so that she was looking up at me, even with heels on. And I liked that.
“I am. Especially now.”
I hadn’t realized that probably sounded more cheesy than charming until it rolled out of my mouth without putting any thought behind it, but her smile told me it was an okay thing to say.
“Don’t be so worried, Willem. The right person can’t say the wrong thing.”
“That’s, ah, very deep.”
“Is it?”
We stopped when we reached the banister that edged the terrace and formed a barrier to walking off the hillside. She turned to face me. The gaslights flickered like torches, making her eyes seem even more hypnotic.
“So, Willem, do you want to win?”
“Being perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, let alone what I might win.”
“Me.”
“You what?”
“Do you want to win me?”
Every fiber of every cell in my body began jumping up and down and screaming, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I wasn’t sure what winning Ravish entailed, but whatever it meant, I was sure I wanted in. I felt like I truly understood the meaning of the word ‘bewitched’.
“Ravish, I…”
“Kiss me, Willem. Then you can decide.”
That was an offer I could not have refused if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to.
I put my hands on either side of her hips and pulled her into me, thinking that at any second the crowd was going to spill outside with kazoos and laughter saying, “Gotcha! You didn’t really think you could win. Did you?” But as she drew closer nothing happened.
I brushed her lips with mine lightly. Once. Twice. Then allowed my mouth to settle on the sweet soft fullness of hers. I knew I was going to look ridiculous in red lipstick, but I didn’t care. That kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It was more spectacular than most orgasms.
At the point where I would normally ease up for a breath, I pulled her in tighter, unwilling to let go of what might be the peak experience of my entire life. Eventually my lungs had their way. I pulled back and looked at her. That’s when I saw it. She was looking at me as if she was the one who’d won the prize.
Holy crap! I was going to be a winner.
“Willem, you probably don’t know it yet, but you were made for me. And you’re going to be a winner if you accept the contract I’ll offer you tonight.”
Only one cylinder of my brain was firing, but I still managed to put it together.
“You’re Destiny’s sister.”
She grinned. “Yes.”
“And your other sister is married to Raider.”
She looked surprised. “Yes. How did you know?”
“I caught them giving each other a look. The important thing is that I accept.”
“Well,” she smiled, “you can’t accept without going over the terms, but we’ll only be offering two contracts this year and yours is one of them. We should go back inside. It’s almost midnight.”
All of a sudden I was feeling self-conscious about the crowd, especially Raider and Kellan. “I have red lipstick all over.”
She laughed. It was the exact opposite of a tinkling bells laugh. It was the laugh of a bawdy bar maid who’d seen and done it all. I loved it. So did my cock, that couldn’t seem to stop trying to twitch its way out of my pants.
“There’s no lipstick to come off, Willem. My lips are this color.”
“You look like this twenty-four hours a day?”
I didn’t care if I was being pranked at that point. I held my arm out for her and she took it in her sexy, but elegant way.
“Maybe not, but my mouth doesn’t change. Have I told you that you look delicious in this color?” she asked, but I didn’t have a chance to answer because we walked through the door to a cheer from the women and the past winners.
Harmony came to greet us. “Ladies and gentlemen. Two of our guests will be offered contracts this year. Willem Draiocht by Ravish Wimberley. And Cairn Connelly by Deli Bennett. To all the rest of you, thank you for coming. As you return to your homes you will lose all memory of what you’ve seen and heard here. You will have pleasant memories of your visit to Wimberley, but will not associate it with any purpose beyond leisure. Good night.”
I could see the other contestants smirking at each other like they didn’t believe for a minute they’d forget a second of their experience.
Harper and Ivan were the only two who made a point to come by and congratulate me.
Looking at Ravish, Ivan said, “You’re a lucky man, Will. She’s something.”
I looked at Ravish feeling like I was having an out of body experience. “She is.”
“You can enter again, Ivan,” she said. “And you should. Perhaps your contract just wasn’t ready for you yet.”
He smiled. “I’ll bet you say that to all the contestants.”
“I assure you that I do not. I mean it sincerely.”
“We’ll see. Thanks for the encouragement.”
“That was nice of you,” I said, looking down at my prize.
“Not at all. It’s true. He may be a future winner.”
“So you really know who the winners are before we arrive?”
She nodded, smiling. “Yes. The others are just here to make the winners feel comfortable. That and males like competition.”
I laughed. “That’s why the ruse? Males like competition?”
“It works.” She shrugged. “Haven’t you felt at ease this weekend?”
I thought back. “Well, yeah. Except when Raider was trying to drown me.”
Kellan appeared in front of me with his arm around Glory. “Congratulations, Will. It’s a very special brotherhood you’re joining.”
Glory either squeezed his butt cheek or pinched him. It was hard to tell. But he jumped.
He looked down at her. “You know it’s hard to maintain a sense of dignity when you insist on treating me like a male stripper.”
She gave him a playful pout. “Sorry, Sugarbunch. I’m working on it.”
His answering lopsided grin said he’d tolerate anything she served up.
I looked down to see a large, sleek black cat trying to twirl itself around Glory’s legs. She leaned over and picked the cat up, saying, “Hey, Fambo. You need some attention?”
She brought the cat up and held it in her arms. It looked at me with the heavy lids of extreme pleasure partially covering pale green eyes that were eerily similar to the color of Ravish’s. Its purring was loud enough to be heard several feet away.
“This is my cat, Willem. He and Kellan both think they’re king of this castle. And they’re both a little jealous of my attentions to the other.” She shifted the cat so that her nose was touching his. “Can’t be helped. I need both my bad boys.”
I looked at Kellan, who rolled his eyes. He clearly didn’t share Glory’s affection for the cat. “So this is your house?”
“It is.” He raised his chin a bit in an obvious moment of pride. “Most of the community gatherings and such are held here because we have extra space.”
“That’s an understatement,” I replied.
“Excuse me. I need to talk to Harmony,” Glory said.
When she turned to go, cat draped over her shoulder, Kellan said, “Looks like we’ll see you back here tomorrow.”
“Looks like. Any tips?”
“No.” He grinned. “You don’t need any tips. You won.”
When he walked off, I turned to Ravish. “Has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like Pleasant Wimberley?”
She looked genuinely surprised. “No, Willem. How would you know that?”
“One of the gallery owners told me I’d been pranked, that she shows herself to people in other portraits sometimes. You look exactly like her. She was even wearing this dress.”
“This dress?” She looked down. “But these are modern clothes.”
“Guess she likes contemporary fashion.”
Ravish treated me to her sexy, throaty laugh. “You’re a character, Willem.”
“That’s what people keep telling me.”
“And I’m so lucky to be your prize.”
The idea of winning seemed about as real to me as unicorns leaping over rainbows, but I guess some people would say that ghosts don’t haunt hotels, and long-deceased pioneer women don’t temporarily occupy oil-painted portraits in red cocktail dresses. The idea that this heavenly creature might think she was lucky to get me was mind-boggling.
I searched her eyes and shook my head, not knowing what to say. Seemed to me that it was only a matter of time before she changed her mind about being lucky. Sooner or later she’d find out who I really was and feel tragically unfortunate. I’m just a penniless guy who spent ten years chasing a dream that wasn’t even mine. That probably defines loser. Further, I was pretty sure I was about to make the world’s lousiest groom-for-a-year.
For one thing, I’d never been in the habit of putting somebody else first and I’d heard that’s one of the things you do when you want a long term relationship. I shrugged internally, deciding that I was gonna have a hell of a lot of fun before they discovered that I was a fraud.
Harmony winked at me as she handed scrolls to both Ravish and Deli. Yeah. I’m talking about actual parchment scrolls, rolled up and sealed with wax. When Ravish broke the seal and began to unroll, I saw that it had been written in hand-inked calligraphy. My fingers itched to touch it almost as badly as they wanted to roam over Ravish’s body.
She turned to me. “It’s written in Old English language and script. You may not be able to read it.”
“No. I can. My hobby has taken me in that direction so it’s not new. You want me to read it?”
She held out the scroll and nodded. “It says that you will enter into a trial marriage with me for a year. At the end of a year and a day, which is when the ceremony will take place, you can decide to leave or make it permanent.”
I don’t know what made me say it because, at the moment, the only thing I wanted was to sign on the dotted line, but something made me say, “I can leave, no hard feelings?”
The way she looked at me made me sorry I’d asked the question. Her smile disappeared and her eyes looked, I don’t know, almost plaintive. “Of course,” she said, but I could see that I’d planted a seed of worry in her heart. I regretted it, but at the same time, thought perhaps it was for the best.
Just in case.
Because contracts are serious.
I opened the scroll and read through. It was just what she’d said except that there was also a lot of language about the benefits of being a first year groom. And every one of them sounded like a lottery win.
I smiled, hoping to restore her good mood. “Yes. I’m all yours.”
It felt strange to say the words, ‘I’m yours’, to another person. I’d never had a girlfriend for longer than two weeks. My inexperience informed me that I knew nothing about managing the practical or emotional aspects of a long term relationship. But I knew, with Ravish standing next to me in all her delectable perfection, that I’d be an idiot to walk away.
“Where do I sign?”
Ravish pointed to a high table with a bottle of ink. When I got up close I saw that it wasn’t a quill pen, but an ink pen decorated with a feather. I picked it up and looked at the bottle. I’d never loaded an ink pen before.
“It’s full,” she said. “Just take off the cap. You want to go first. Or me?”
“Me.”
I signed in my best cursive, glad that I have a decent looking signature, then handed the pen to her.
She signed underneath, never taking her eyes off me. Her signature was just like her. Feminine with a hint of formidable will underneath.
She capped the pen, pressed the front of her body into me, pulled me down so that she could rest her forehead against mine, and said, “Take me home.”
“Unless you want to go to a third floor room at the Charmed Horse, that’s going to have to be my line.”
She laughed softly. “Your things have already been moved to our home. Let’s go.”
“They must have been pretty damn sure I’d say yes.”
She laughed while sliding her arm around my waist. My arm went around her shoulders as naturally as if we’d done that a thousand times before. As we walked toward the door, there was some applause behind us, but all that I and my male bits could think about was what was coming next.
As we emerged from the entrance, there was a red Porsche Boxster Spyder sitting right in front of us with the top down.
“You want to drive?” she asked.
“Hell, yes.” She started toward the passenger side. “But I haven’t driven in a long time. I don’t have a car in L.A.”
“You didn’t forget how, Willem. And it’s not far away.”
She smiled and that smile made me feel like I could do anything. So I slid behind the wheel and she handed me the key. I loved that the car had an actual key ignition and not a button start. The fob proudly displayed the colorful Stuttgart stallion emblem and was a work of art in itself.
The engine rumbled to life, purring like it wanted nothing more than to eat up the road.
“Take us home,” she said.
Those were three words I never thought I’d hear a woman say to me. I supposed I might get used to it. In time.
At the foot of Kellan’s driveway she pointed left. “That way.”
We drove around the base of the hill then climbed even higher. She directed me to the last house on the right. I pulled into the circular drive and whistled.
It was a Greek revival with Corinthian columns. On seeing it for the first time, my thought was that it suited her perfectly. Sexy, elegant, and slightly at odds with the Hill Country environment.
“Let’s put it in the garage,” she said, indicating that I should drive around the house.
The four-car garage was rear entry. She snagged the remote from the driver’s side visor and pushed the button so that the door was opening when I made the turn. I pulled in next to a four-wheel drive Jeep.
“You go off-roading?” I asked with an eyebrow raised, trying to picture that.
She lifted a shoulder and looked coy. “Sometimes.
Would you like to walk around and go in the front? Since it’s your first time here?”
It seemed like what she wanted, and since I was eager to please, I said, “Sure. You’re going to give me the grand tour.”
She laughed softly. “If you want.”
We walked back around the house to the front door. She didn’t use a key, but walked right in. When the front door opened, lamps came on in the entry hall and adjoining rooms.
“You leave your door unlocked?”
“Our door,” she corrected. “And yes. No one can come in uninvited.”
“They can’t?”
She laughed again. “No, Willem. What kind of a witch would I be if I couldn’t protect my own property from trespassers?”
“Well,” I said, “I suppose that’s true. About the witch thing…”
“Come in. Let me show you around. Then we can have a drink and talk as long as you like.”
I had to admit that talking wasn’t my first priority and the idea of a long talk was a little disappointing, but I’d opened the door, so to speak.
The ceilings were sixteen feet high. The décor was simple and livable, but luxurious. Minimalist softened to plush posh. Very Architectural Digest.
I whistled. “Your decorator is really something.”
“That would be me.” She beamed. “Come on. Let’s do a run-through. This is the music room.” She pointed to the right. There was a shiny black grand piano shell with a Roland keyboard inside. “I don’t play, but Destiny does. It gives her something to do when she visits.
“This is the living room. It pretty much goes unused except for occasional guests.” I followed her down the hallway past the staircase that rose from the rear rather than the front of the house. She waved to a room on the right. “That’s the study. I don’t use it much, but the architect insisted the house wouldn’t be complete without it.”
I stood staring into the room covered in rich mahogany with its coffered ceiling and built-in shelves and thought, “Yeah. I could see myself there.” The room was just about the same size as the entire apartment I shared with Hector and worth more than the entire apartment building. The walls followed the windows as they bowed outward into a semicircle.
“What does the view look like in the daytime?”
“Oh,” she said, “you can see the hills, a few of the other houses, the river and part of the town. I think it’s nice.”
“Sounds like. It’s a beautiful room.”
“If you want it, it’s yours, Willem. You can redecorate it any way you want.”
“That’s very generous. I might take you up on that. If you’re really not using it.”
“Willem, you can have anything you want. All you have to do is ask.”
That was going to take some getting used to. Whoever thinks they’re going to be standing in front of a preposterously gorgeous creature, possibly of supernatural origins, being told you can have anything you want? It occurred to me that I could be dreaming, but everything was just too real, including the smell of Ravish’s hair when she passed close by. I don’t know scents enough to tell you what she smelled like, just that it was intoxicating.
“You want a drink before we go upstairs?” she asked as she was walking away.
I followed. “Sure. What do you have?”
She laughed. “Everything. We have everything.”
The kitchen left me almost speechless. The cabinets were painted white, with glass fronts and interior lights. Some of them were so tall that a ladder would have been required. There was a slate island three feet wide and twelve feet long. Above that were a series of lighted pot racks with hanging cookware, copper bottoms gleaming like they’d never been used. One entire wall was dedicated to refrigeration. There was a two-foot-wide wine column, a double freezer column, and a triple refrigerator column.
She pointed to the refrigerator column that had a glass front. “We could open wine if you want, or something stronger. But like I said, we have everything.”
True to her word, the glass front column held every kind of soft drink, water, wine cooler, and beer. My eyes ran over the rest of the room. Triple oven. Six burner gas stove.
“Do you live here alone?” I asked.
“Not anymore.” She smiled. “Sit.” She pointed to one of the leather stools around the island. “Let me get you something. What will you have?”
“What are you having?”
“Hmmm. Coffee?”
I grinned. “Sold.”
“How do you take it?”
“I like girlie creamers when I can get them. Otherwise, couple spoons of sugar and milk.”
“Girlie creamers?” she asked, as she pulled open one of the other refrigerator columns. “We have every variety of Baileys. Hazelnut. French Vanilla. Original. Crème Brulee. Caramel.”
“Stop. That’s the one.”
“Caramel? Hmmm. I’ll have that, too.”
She set the Baileys caramel creamer on the bar in front of me and went about brewing the joe in a pod coffeemaker. I remembered that it was days ago when I’d been thinking I wanted to own one of those one day.
She pushed my cup in front of me along with a silver sugar bowl and spoon.
“Fancy.”
“The sugar bowl? Is it?”
“Yeah, Ravish. It is.”
“Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“No.” I laughed. “Hopefully it would take more than a bit of silver to make me uncomfortable.”
She brought her coffee, sat beside me, poured creamer, and used my spoon to stir it.
“This is good,” I said. “I don’t have a toothbrush with me.”
She grinned. “Yes. You do. In fact all of your stuff is upstairs.”
“All my stuff from the hotel?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You were serious about them moving me? You mean they just let anybody walk in and take a guest’s belongings?”
“No.” She shook her head. “We’re not anybody.”
“I’m starting to get that loud and clear.”
“But it’s not just your stuff from the hotel. It’s your stuff from L.A., too.”
“What? Hector let you guys in?”
“Not exactly. He was asleep. Never knew we were there. But we left enough money to cover your part of the rent for a year.”
She blew on the hot coffee before she took a sip and the sight of her lips puckering temporarily mesmerized me so that I was having a hard time focusing on the proper amount of outrage.
I shook my head. “How could you have my stuff from L.A.? You couldn’t have known I was going to say yes.”
She laughed that whore’s laugh that turned me inside out like a pretzel. “Well, you’re right, of course. But we’ve been doing these competitions for a very long time and no guy has ever said no.”
I cleared my throat, tearing my eyes away from her mouth. “That’s quite a record.”
“Yeah.” She watched me over the top of her cup as she drank.
“What do I need to know about the ceremony tomorrow?”
“Well, there are some old-fashioned things. You and I will wear hooded robes until we ring the bell and snuff out the candle.”
“That’s probably not any more ridiculous than having fathers ‘give brides away’ like they were chattel in the twelfth century.”
She laughed softly. “The only other thing I need to tell you before the contract is sealed is that witches only conceive daughters. So if you had your heart set on sons, it could be a problem.”
There was no mistaking that she was practically holding her breath, waiting for my answer. I laughed out loud. “No, Ravish. I never pictured myself as a father to anybody, girl or boy. And I should probably tell you, I still don’t.”
She sipped coffee while considering that. “That’s not a deal breaker for me, Willem.”
“Why not?” My mouth seemed to have gone rogue and been disconnected from the part of me that knew you shouldn’t challenge the gift of a horse by closely examining its teeth. Or something like that. But I’d gone too far to pull back. “Why me?”
She set her coffee cup down, slid off the stool, and walked in between where my legs were spread and resting on the rungs. I suddenly became preoccupied with wanting to find out if that kiss was a fluke or if it could be as good as I remembered. I put my hands on her waist and reveled in her body heat as I drew her in closer.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said you were made for me, Willem. There are people here who know about such things. Right up to the perfect moment to approach you with an opportunity, the moment when you’d be most receptive to trying something new.”
“Like you?”
I slipped my hand under her hair and let it caress her neck. She closed her eyes like she enjoyed the sensation.
“Yes. Like me. But no sex tonight,” she said, and pulled away abruptly.
“What? Wait! I was looking forward to that.”
She smirked and laughed deep in her throat. “Very gratifying. That means you’ll be really ready by tomorrow. Tonight you’re in one of the guest rooms. Tomorrow when we’re gone to the ceremony, the servants will move you in with me.”
“Tomorrow’s too far away.” I pouted. “My dick needs attention tonight.”
“Well, I’m sure you can find a way to take care of that. But it will be the last time you’ll have to take care of your, um, dick by yourself.”
“I like the way you say ‘dick’.”
“I liked the way you said you were looking forward to sex with me.”
“Well, duh.”
“Come on,” she said. “Tomorrow I want to hear everything about what you’d like to do with your time. Oh, and the winners are giving you some sort of guy thing tomorrow night at dinner, not a bachelor party, but something like that.”
“I’d rather be with you.”
“Willem, you are charming the socks off me.”
“I have it on good authority that you’re not wearing socks, but I’d like to charm the rest of this off you.” I slid two fingers under the strap of her dress.
“Stop. You’re making this hard.” She pulled away.
“That’s the idea.”
“Don’t make me put you in time out.”
All humor was suddenly sucked out of the room. “Could you do that? No, wait. A better question is probably, would you do that?”
She grew serious. “No, Willem. It was a joke. Something my sister says to her kids. I will never use magic to force, compel, or coerce you. It’s not only against the rules. It’s wrong.”
I heard what she was saying, but the idea that she could do that, or thought she could do that, was a little bit concerning and a little bit disturbing.
“So you’re saying you could force me to do things,” I said slowly, watching closely for her reaction, “but you wouldn’t because of an ethics code.”
“Yes. That and because I will love you.”
“You’ll love me,” I repeated drily. “How can you know that?”
She blew out a breath like she was getting frustrated. “I keep telling you, Willem. We’re perfect for each other. I won’t be able to stop myself from being head over heels for you.”
“And is that what you’re expecting from me? Love?”
“Is that too much to hope for?”
I ran a hand through my hair. “It may be a bridge too far. Love doesn’t seem likely. I don’t mean because of you,” I hastened to add. “I just don’t have any history to indicate that I’m a fall-in-love kind of guy.”
She was silent for a few seconds. “I guess we’ll see then.”
I smiled, grateful that she was going to let it go. “I guess we will.”
“I’m going up to bed. If you want to come with me, I’ll show you where you’re staying tonight. Then if you want to wander around, or whatever, feel free. Mi casa es su casa. At least it will be tomorrow.”
I followed her up the stairs enjoying the way her hips swayed when she climbed. “Oh, there’s an elevator, too, if you’re ever feeling lazy.”
An elevator?
The second floor hallway ended at double doors standing open. I supposed that was the master. I saw only windows with a console table and lamps.
When we reached the last room on the left, she said, “This is you tonight. Do you want to see our suite?”
“Our suite? Why, yes. I do want to see our suite,” I said playfully.
When I reached the threshold, I could see that there was a large sitting area with pale gray carpet, plush white sofas, a fireplace, and a movie-screen size TV. To the left was another set of double doors that stood open to reveal the bedroom, as tastefully done as the rest of the house. I hadn’t had an impulse to run leaping and jump up and down on a bed for twenty years, but I had to restrain myself from doing exactly that.
There were doorways with eight-foot doors on either side of the bed.
“That’s yours.” She pointed to the one on the left. “This one is mine.” She waved a hand at the other door. “Come on. I’ll show you yours.”
We stepped into an enormous bathroom with black and white marble tiles, turned diagonally, a huge polished black Jacuzzi, a carwash shower with a dozen heads, long black marble sink counter and mahogany stained cabinets. Very masculine and very luxurious. I was pretty sure the oil-rich princes of Saudi Arabia would be jealous.
When she opened tall mahogany doors, lights came on beyond. “This is your closet,” she said.
My room in the L.A. apartment was not nearly as big. It had a big island cabinet with drawers on all sides and miles of rods for hung clothes hidden behind tall cupboard doors.
“I take it we’re not sharing a bath?”
She giggled. “My sisters tell me that nothing kills romance quicker than a shared bathroom.”
I’d never shared a bathroom with a woman, but I could still grasp the point.
“It’s marvelous, Ravish. I don’t have enough clothes to fill even one of these.” I opened one of the tall cupboard doors.
“Well, that could change, Willem. If you decide you want more clothes, you’ll have a place to keep them.”
“Every few minutes something else leaves me speechless.”
She smiled. “Tomorrow, when you’re up, let’s have breakfast together on the terrace. I want to hear everything about your family, your acting, your life in L.A.”
I cocked my head, pleased that she was interested. “Sure. And you’ll reciprocate.”
She didn’t answer, just smiled, walked toward me and proceeded to kiss me stupid again. Then she patted me on the ass. I’m not joking. She actually patted me on the ass and guided me toward the door. I decided to take that as a promise of things to come. Tomorrow.
“Night,” I said, as she closed the double doors.
The crazy idea hit me that perhaps it was some sort of test. Was I supposed to plow through the doors and insist we not wait to consummate our year? I’d been told that some women have fantasies about having their choice taken away, but only by the man of their dreams. I was the man of Ravish’s dreams. She’d told me so several times.
It could be a test of patience or a test of impatience and I was having a hard time deciding which. I finally decided I’d rather err on the side of no means no, than err on the side of being perceived as a brute.
So I wandered back down the hall to the room she’d pointed out as my temporary castle. It wasn’t bad. Had I not just seen the rooms that would be mine, I would have thought it might be the most outrageously opulent room on Earth. It even had a fully stocked mini bar with snacks in the little refrigerator and a TV almost as big as the one in the master suite. A guy could get used to the lifestyle quick.
The bathroom counter had my toiletries laid out neatly. The clothes that I’d brought to Wimberley were cleaned, pressed, and hung. Undies and socks in the top drawer. Wow. They had good elves in Wimberley.
Popping the top on a long neck ginger ale, I shed everything but my boxers, climbed in bed and turned on the TV. I surfed until I was sure there was nothing worth watching and finally settled on The Wicker Man. I would have loved to turn the channel or, better yet, turn the TV off, but I couldn’t do it. Consequently, I had a restless night filled with dreams of human sacrifice and worries about what I was really getting myself into.
When I saw light coming through the windows, I was relieved the night was over. I told myself that nothing so sinister was going on in Wimberley or there wouldn’t be so many happy winners. On the other hand…
The shower felt good. I set the water on practically scalding and hoped it would wash both doubts and nightmares away. I pulled on a pair of old soft jeans and a grayish blue tee then headed out. When I opened the door, I could hear activity in the kitchen below. Not only that, but I could smell coffee and bacon.
When I stepped into the kitchen, a large middle-aged woman turned to me with a bright smile and said, “Good morning, Mr. Draiocht. Would you like anything special for breakfast?”
“What’s your name?”
“Angie, sir.”
“Well, Angie. All thought of whatever else I might have wanted fled when I smelled that bacon.” She smiled as if she was pleased. “Did I also smell coffee?”
“Oh, yes.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “The mistress likes percolated coffee in the morning. So we do it the old-fashioned way. It’s not easy to find these old vintage machines now, but they do make good coffee.”
A man stepped into the room. “Good morning, Mr. Draiocht.”
“Hello,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Ed, sir. I’ll let Ms. Wimberley know you’re up.”
“Thank you.”
“We’ve set up for breakfast out on the terrace if that’s alright with you,” said Angie. “I’ll bring your coffee out with some fruit to get you started.” She waved in the direction of the terrace behind me.
“Sounds nice.”
I smiled as I turned toward the terrace doors. I could see the table set with pink linens and covered carafes of ice water and orange juice. The morning was glorious, a perfect seventy degrees. The smell of cedar scented the air and I inhaled deeply.
Angie followed close behind with the coffee pot. She turned the cup over and poured then carefully set the cream and sweeteners within my reach.
“Lovely morning, isn’t it?” she said.
“It is.”
The door opened and Ravish emerged, wearing white capris and a tangerine-colored tank top. Her hair was in a ponytail. She looked different in casual clothes. No less beautiful. If anything, she seemed more approachable in everyday street wear. A guy could get used to fancy breakfast served on the terrace and a goddess looking at him like he’d discovered fire.
“Willem,” she said.
“Ravish,” I replied. “Let’s start this off right. Call me Will.”
She smiled. “Sure.”
“And Ravish has got to go, too.”
“You don’t like my name?” She didn’t seem hurt, more interested in what I would say next.
“I love it, but I have a strong preference for single syllables. I’m a simple kind of guy.”
As she sat, she took on a challenging look with raised eyebrow. “A simple kind of guy, huh. I’m not getting that, Wille… Will. Perhaps you haven’t had the funds to express your appreciation of fine things, but I’m kind of questioning the simple guy thing.”
I wondered if she was right. She might be.
“So what name have you come up with for me?”
I sat back with my coffee cup in hand. “Rave.”
“Rave?!? It makes me sound like a soapbox lunatic.”
“Ravish makes me sound like a pervert.”
She threw her head back and laughed her sexy, throaty laugh. “If you want to call me Rave, it’s okay with me, Will. Outsiders will think it’s short for Raven, but that’s okay, too. I always liked that name.”
“Rave it is then.”
I felt strangely satisfied, as if I’d just branded my woman by renaming her. It was a rush.
Angie stepped out carrying a tray with two plates of spinach Eggs Benedict, bacon, and gingerbread.
“Good heavenly days,” I said. “How did you know I like spinach Eggs Benedict? And gingerbread? Christ. I don’t know where to start. It smells like heaven.”
“I take that as high praise, Mr. Draiocht.”
“You should. This looks incredible.”
Angie went away beaming.
“I hope you always enjoy things as much as you do today, Will.”
“You mean you don’t want me to get bored and jaded? I’m not a teenager. I think I’ve lived long enough without all this to ever not appreciate it.”
“Good,” she said. “It’s more fun that way. So start at the beginning and tell me everything about you.”
After taking a large bite of gingerbread, I grinned. “Only if you trade me fact for fact. I tell one. You tell one.”
“Deal. You go first.”
“I was born in Alabama.”
“I was born here.”
“Two brothers and a sister.”
“Two sisters.”
“I’m the youngest.”
“I’m number two.”
“I had a nice middle class childhood. My parents weren’t the cool parents who let kids do anything, but they were solid, stable, loving.”
“My parents are,” she grinned, “great. I can’t wait for you to meet them.”
I thought about taking Ravish to meet my parents. “Will you want to meet mine?”
She nodded. “After our year is up. When our arrangement becomes permanent, then yes. Absolutely.”
“We could take a road trip. Go through New Orleans. Drive along the Gulf.”
Her eyes sparkled when she smiled like she was picturing the sun on the water. “I’m in!”
I couldn’t help but return her smile. I could picture driving along the coast with Rave in her Spyder, top down. Heaven.
“Okay. So childhood. I played baseball and, don’t tell anybody, but I liked to read.”
“I like to read, too, and I guess I was what some people call a tomboy. I always liked hiking, canoeing, catching June bugs.”
“You have June bugs?”
“Of course.”
I laughed. “For about a week every summer our June bugs would look like one of the plagues from the Bible. There were that many.”
“Yeah. We get a lot. I also liked playing in the mud.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Well I would never have admitted that to you, but definitely concur. Playing in the mud is the best!” I held my palm up for a high five. She slapped my hand and giggled.
“Is that why you have that Jeep? You still like to play in the mud?”
She looked up through her eyelashes. “Guilty.”
“Well, Rave, I’m feeling pretty good about this. What are the chances I’d find a girl who likes to play in the mud?”
“What subjects did you like in school?”
“Social studies. English when it involved stories. You?”
“Math and science.”
I laughed. “Well, between the two of us, there shalt be balance. How old were you when you had your first kiss?”
“Thirteen.”
“Twelve. Did you like it?”
“Not really.”
“Yeah.” I chuckled. “Awkward.”
“Extremely. And don’t start asking about other things along those lines. Some things are private, even from you, Will.”
“Noooooo. I’m to be your lord and master. You will do as I say.” She looked at me strangely. “That was a joke, Rave. I don’t expect that you’d ever do what I say even if I was dumb enough to give you an order.”
“Okay.”
“Seriously. You can keep that stuff to yourself. I was kidding.”
“Good,” she said as she bit down on a piece of bacon. “I’m glad we understand each other. So when was your first coitus and who was it with?”
My eyes jerked from the hunk of gingerbread I was holding, to her face. Her eyes were dancing. “I have a better question. Are you ticklish?” She pressed her lips together and shook her head a little too emphatically. “Ooh. I just learned two things. You are ticklish and you’re also a terrible liar. Good. To. Know.”
I stood and moved toward her with fingers wiggling. She jumped up and began walking backwards. “No, Will, really. I…”
She feinted left, but though I hadn’t revealed it, I also played basketball. So I was ready for her. She ran right into my arms. I was not merciless. After all, I’d known her for less than twenty-four hours. Merciless tickling required history and trust. Sometimes, as my sisters had taught me, there were elements of head bonking with nearby objects that resulted in needing ice packs.
I turned her to face me. “I didn’t get a good morning kiss.” Without further preamble, she proceeded to kiss me stupid. “Have I told you I like your lips?”
“No.” She smiled. “What else?”
“What else what?”
“What else do you like about me?”
“You mean besides flawless beauty? I like your laugh. I like that you’re so easy to talk to. I like the way your eyes dance when you’re having fun. And I like your Eggs Benedict.”
“That was a good starter list, Will. You want to finish breakfast?”
“Hell, yeah. There’s stuff all over that table still calling my name. I just took intermission for tickling.”
I slid my arm over her shoulder as we walked back. It was familiar. It was affectionate. It was also strange, not the sort of thing I do with women, but it felt natural. And good.
“This gingerbread is getting cold! What kind of household are you managing here?” I chided with enough tease in my voice so she’d know for sure that I was not serious.
Angie appeared at the table within seconds.
“Angie,” Rave said, “could you heat up the gingerbread for Mr. Draiocht?”
“Certainly. So glad you like it, sir.”
She took the gingerbread basket and hurried away while I sat with my mouth hanging open.
“I wasn’t serious.”
“Oh, I know. But gingerbread is best when the butter melts on it. And Angie doesn’t mind.”
“How do you know?”
“When she comes back, ask her and look real closely for any signs that she might be shaving the truth.”
“You’re on, mistress of the house.”
While waiting, I scooped up the last bite of incredible Eggs Benedict, polished off the bacon, and gulped orange juice.
“You’ve got an appetite, Will. I may have to put a weight maintenance spell on you. With your permission, of course.”
I stared. “You’re saying you can put a spell on me that would allow me to eat anything I want, as much as I want, and not gain weight?” She nodded with a secretive little smile. I reached down and rubbed my hand over my bulging tummy. “Can you make me look shredded without having to work out?”
She laughed. “No. Some things are beyond me. If you want to be lickable, you’re still going to have to hit the machines. Oh. I didn’t show you the gym. It’s upstairs on the right side of the hall. Got everything you could want and a nice media center, too.”
“Lickable?”
She giggled. “Is that all you heard?”
“Yes. Blah blah blah. LICKABLE! Blah blah blah. Now you know. That’s one of the words that’s a cock tease.”
“Oh? What are the others?”
“We’ll come to that later. Were you popular in school or studious or what? Lots of acquaintances or a few good friends?”
“I was kind of popular, I guess.”
Looking down my nose, I said, “What’s ‘kind of’? Were you a cheerleader?”
“Yes.”
“Did you use magic?”
“No.” She did a crazy eyes thing that looked like she was indignant at the question.
“Okay. Okay. Just asking. Were you prom queen?”
“No. I was senior class president though.”
Angie arrived with warm gingerbread and set it down with a smile.
Watching her carefully I asked, “Angie, don’t you really think I should get up and bring the gingerbread in the kitchen if I want it heated up?”
“Good lands no, sir. That’s my job, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe about it. I see to the people in this house. That used to be Ms. Ravish, but now it’s you, too.”
“You call her Ms. Ravish?”
“With her permission.”
“Why don’t you call me Will?”
“Mr. Will.”
“No. Just Will.” She looked at Rave, who nodded at her. “Very well, sir. But it don’t really seem right calling you by your nickname.”
“Okay. You can call me Willem. But just you. Nobody else.”
She looked delighted at the prospect of being the only one allowed to call me Willem.
“Very well, sir.”
When she left and closed the door behind her, I said, “So you were one of the unattainable sex icons who prowl the halls of high schools everywhere, never deigning to so much as cast a glance toward poor adoring souls such as myself.”
“Wow, Will. That was practically a soliloquy. You would have been a fine actor.”
“What does math/science girl know about soliloquys?”
“I named my favorite subjects. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t learn anything else.”
“Oh, well, see? When I say I liked social studies and stories. I do mean I didn’t learn anything else.”
She laughed. “What about you? Social or kept to yourself?”
“Few good friends. Not the party crowd. Not the jocks. Not the elite-by-virtue-of-daddy’s-money circle. Maybe I was a nerd.”
“Nerds don’t play sports.”
“Hmmm. Maybe I defy description. I had a few good friends. I could get dates when I wanted. No complaints really. How old were you when you got your first car?”
“Fourteen.”
I laughed. “No. Really.”
“Really. I got a hardship license.”
“You did? What was the hardship?”
She sat back and bit into a peach. “It would have been too hard to not be able to drive when I was ready to drive.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Did you just say that?”
She laughed. “I did.”
“And the Department of Motor Vehicles bought that?”
“Well, we didn’t use the usual channels.”
“Are you used to getting whatever you want, Rave?”
Looking straight at me, she took another bite out of the peach. “Hmmm.” She nodded.
“So you’re spoiled.”
“I don’t believe in being spoiled. I think that everybody should be able to enjoy everything they can using the talents they were given. So long as they give back,” she added.
“That’s an interesting point of view. What’s giving back mean to you?”
“Well, I got a car when I was fourteen, but I used it to take schoolwork to kids who were home sick. I also gave rides to people who needed to go to the doctor and stuff.”
That did sort of put things in a different light. “So you’re a saint disguised as a witch living in the lap of wealth and decadence.”
Her mouth dropped open. “There’s nothing decadent about the way I live. How dare you?”
I laughed. “Okay. If you say so.”
“When did you start driving?”
“Sixteen. Like normal people.” She smirked. “My granddad gave me a hand-me-down car when I was sixteen. I think it had two hundred and thirty thousand miles on it. Old sedan painted a color that we called granddad green. It didn’t turn the heads of any girls, I promise you, but it got me around and was better than a bicycle.”
“So you went to college at Alabama State?”
“For a while. I’m kinda sorry I didn’t finish now.”
“Did you go for higher education?”
“University of Texas. I know. I know. It’s close to home, but there’s not a better school anywhere in the world.”
“Finish?”
“Yes,” she said carefully.
“Oh my God. You finished with honors, didn’t you?” She looked embarrassed. “Ravish, what in the world do you want with a loser like me?”
Her eyes flashed. “You’re not a loser, Will. You just haven’t settled into your stride yet.”
Something about the way she became suddenly defensive of me, even if she was defending me from myself, caused a little flutter in my six pack, that I was going to need to maintain myself if I wanted to be lickable. And I definitely wanted to be lickable. I could see myself becoming addicted to her protectiveness. And I could see this being the best year of my life.
What I couldn’t see was beyond that. Forever was an abstract I couldn’t manage to grasp. So I made a vow to enjoy every day, one at a time.
“So you decided to pursue acting?”
“Yeah. For ten years. It didn’t work out. What did you study in school?”
“Geology.”
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I got interested in the limestone ledges, the layers I could see from the river when I was a kid. Of course all the fossils and dinosaur tracks around here were pretty fascinating, too.”
“What do you do with your degree?”
“I keep an eye on things around here. Make sure that modernity isn’t interfering with what’s best for Mother Nature.”
“How do you make sure of that?” She didn’t answer, but her eyes sparkled. “Okay. Maybe I’m not ready to know that yet.”
“We can’t protect the world, but we can protect this little corner of it.”
“So what’s a typical day like for you?”
“If we don’t have any meetings,” she rolled her eyes, “I test water samples and make sure that nobody is dumping anything upstream that shouldn’t go into a river. I ride up into the hills and make sure that there aren’t any yahoos tearing up the land with SUVS or motorbikes, causing erosion, or doing something abominable like chasing jackrabbits until their little hearts burst.”
I pushed back from the table, crossed an ankle over a knee and looked at her. “People do that?”
The tiniest wrinkle appeared between her brows when she frowned. “Yes. People do that.”
“So you’re like the rabbit sheriff around these parts.”
She smiled. “I could do worse than a title like that.” I crossed my arms over my chest and felt pretty good about myself, until she said, “And what is your typical day going to look like?”
“One day I was an actor with a routine that involved an agent, auditions, and bartending. The next day I gave up acting and was on a plane for Wimberley, not sure why I was coming here or what I would get out of it.” I looked at her, letting her see my appreciation full force. “I never expected you.”
“Why, Will,” she looked delighted, “that was a nice thing you just said.”
I looked away, not wanting to get too mushy. “So I don’t have a typical anything right now.”
“Let me rephrase the question. What would you like your typical day to be?”
“In bed with you calling me the lord and master of sex?”
She gave me the full sexy laugh treatment, which meant I needed to adjust my pants. “Besides that.”
“Since you didn’t say no, I’m going to take that to mean that lots of time in bed with you calling me the lord and master of sex is a distinct possibility.”
“I don’t know about ‘lots’, but there’s some flexibility in my schedule. Lord and master of sex is a pretty serious title. I’m going to expect you to earn it.”
“I accept the challenge. Do we get a honeymoon?”
“You mean away from here? After our first year.”
“Okay. How much time can we have alone in the house with nobody ringing doorbells or expecting you to be somewhere?”
“Will, I think you’re a little bit romantic.”
“Think what you like. They call it horny where I come from.”
“The answer is yes. We can have a day to ourselves. No interruptions.”
“I need to go to Austin.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m pretty sure there aren’t enough condoms in this town.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re not going to need them.”
“No?”
“No. We’re both clean and I’m not getting pregnant unless I want to.”
“You just made it even harder to wait for tonight. You sure we can’t sneak a preview. Like right now?”
“Yes. I’m sure. Back on topic. What do you want to do? You want to go back to school? We can get you into U.T. If you don’t want to study anything but myths and paranormal, they can put together an ad hoc degree tailor made for you.”
The idea of going back to school to learn what I wanted to learn without the other crap had me salivating.
“Would it hurt anybody? Would I be taking something away from somebody more deserving?”
“No, Will. The amount of money we donate to that school every year is astronomical. We practically make up for the oil shortfall and we don’t ask for much in return. When an opportunity presents itself to repay us, they’re more than happy to make an accommodation. You could start in January. Fall’s already underway. But you could spend the time planning your degree. You could also get access to a whole bunch of stuff that might not have been available before.”
“That’s a pretty astounding offer.”
“There’s just one thing.”
“What is it?”
“You can’t tell people about us. I mean apart from the obvious. You can’t tell people that there are real witches living in Wimberley.”
“Betray you?” I started shaking my head. “No. I wouldn’t.”
“Good to hear. Good to know.”
“So what would you like to do until it’s time for your induction?”
“Induction?”
“Oh, that’s what they call the thing the guys do before the ceremony. Don’t get all excited thinking they’re going to have strippers. The last guy who tried to sneak one in got caught by his wife and ended up spending the next year as a frog.”
I dropped my chin and looked at her. “Is that witch humor? I mean, you’re not serious?”
“Don’t worry, Will. I’m not the excitable sort. I wouldn’t make you live as a frog longer than a fortnight.”
“That would be funnier if I was one hundred percent positive that you couldn’t do it. Or wouldn’t.”
She laughed, which was not especially comforting.
What was I getting myself into?
“You want to go out for a drive? See some of the local scenery?”
“Sure.” I got to my feet thinking that would be the perfect thing to get my mind off Wicker Man and frogs.
We headed to the garage where I’d seen her Jeep Wrangler 4x4 the night before. It was gorgeous and polished to a sheen.
“This color is really something.”
“Fire red metal flake. It looks like the fiberglass dune buggies used to, doesn’t it?”
Honestly I couldn’t say. “Doesn’t look like it’s seen much mud.”
“Oh, it’s seen incredible mud. But it’s also seen Ed on a daily basis. He keeps it looking like this and I don’t make that easy for him. He even has a machine that cleans the undercarriage in the next bay over.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Yes. Life is good.” She pulled herself up into the Jeep, which was open, the canvas top set aside in the garage, opened the bay door and pulled out into the November sunshine.
“Wow. If I thought this color was beautiful inside, that’s nothing compared to what it looks like out here with the light shining on it.”
“Yeah. It’s pretty, huh?”
“Understated. Extremely understated.”
“I have to admit that I’m not big on understatement. I like red.”
The gates opened as we approached. The attendant gave Ravish a friendly salute as we drove by.
“Why do you need an attendant if you have magic?”
“It’s just for show. We don’t like to flaunt the magic. ”
“Oh.”
We turned up into the hills away from town, with Rave downshifting expertly. We were still on a narrow, two lane paved road, but the ride was so bumpy, I couldn’t imagine what it felt like off road.
“Hey,” she yelled over the wind noise. “Let’s go to Lookout Mountain. We’ll have to climb a lot of stairs, but we had a big breakfast, right?”
Her enthusiasm was so infectious, I was powerless to do anything but nod and smile.
“I need to save some energy for lap dances. You know, in case there are strippers.”
She rewarded me with a laugh so hearty I knew it reached down all the way to her pussy. And I laughed with her.
She pulled into a tiny parking lot and put the emergency brake on.
“You want a water?” she asked and then answered her own question. “Yeah. You need a water.” She pulled open an ice chest in the back that was stocked with all kinds of stuff, including waters. She pulled one out and tossed it to me.
“Okay, flatlander. Let’s see if you’ve got some muscle tone in those shapely legs.”
I hurried to catch up. “Did you just call my legs shapely?”
“I did,” she said, already four steps from the bottom.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’m just going to stay here and watch your heart-shaped ass sway back and forth all the way to the top.”
“Come on.” She smirked. “The view of my ass is better up close.”
Jesus. I liked this girl.
“Well, alright then,” I said as if it would be a chore to walk to the top of the hill with her.
Thirty minutes and one water bottle later, I was enjoying a very fine view of the surrounding Hill Country.
When she pointed, I followed her line of sight. “We own all the land from there to there.”
“What do you do with it?”
“We don’t do anything with it. That’s the point. Well, except for a few goats. They take care of themselves. Pretty much. I guess you could call it a wildlife preserve. No hunting except in cases of necessity.”
“What would be a case of necessity?”
“Sometimes the deer population will get too big. When that happens it threatens the survival of all of them. A few have to be thinned out so that the rest can thrive.”
“Oh.”
“Every now and then we get a mountain lion straying up from Big Bend.” That had me kind of looking over my shoulder. She laughed. “Don’t worry, Will. You’re making far too much noise to be of interest to a big cat.”
“Well, that’s comforting. Wish we’d brought two waters.”
“Race you back down.”
It took thirty minutes to climb up and five minutes to run down. I made it to the ice chest first and felt like thumping my chest. Me man. Stronger. Faster. But I was gentlemanly enough to toss her a water before taking one for myself.
“This is probably a silly question, but are you hungry?” she asked.
“Did you see how many steps I just climbed? Yes. Of course I’m hungry!”
She giggled. Looking at her smartwatch she said, “The best taco truck in Texas stops by the river right about now, just a little ways from here. Sound good?”
“Taco truck? I don’t know.”
“Trust me. They’re clean as the Four Seasons.”
“Well, with a vouch like that…”
“Let’s go.”
Fifteen minutes later we were sitting on a picnic bench under an ancient cypress tree scarfing down what could possibly be the best tacos in the world.
“Ah. This food is good! I mean it’s goooooood.” She hummed agreement around her own bite of spicy yumminess. “Will it embarrass you if I go back for more?”
She snorted. “No. Why would it?”
I took a sip of IBC root beer out of an ice cold longneck bottle. “Where does the money come from?”
“Oh. Well, there wasn’t a lot until the early nineteen hundreds. You know we’re kind of a haven for witches. They began coming from all over. One of them had a gift for the stock market. Even managed to pull out ahead of the crash and then buy back in. I’m not one of the treasurers, but I’m told that, once you get something like that established, it takes on a life of its own. Starts producing money like bamboo spreads.
“And since we live in a cooperative, everybody shares. There’s plenty to go around. So we each use our own talents to the best advantage of the community.” She shrugged. “It works out.”
“By all appearances, it certainly does. So what’s your special talent?”
She grinned. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
“You’re scaring me.”
“No, no, silly. There’s no reason to be scared. I have a gift for astral projection.”
“Wow.”
“You know what it is?”
“I do.”
“Yeah. Cool, huh?”
“I don’t know. How do you use it?”
“Well, if we need to know what’s going on somewhere in the world, I can find out without being seen or heard. Nobody ever knows I was there.”
Tacos all but forgotten, I studied her to see if she really believed what she was saying. “So you’re a fly on the wall.”
“I guess you could say that. Although that doesn’t sound as glamorous as invisible spy.”
“Can I get a demonstration?”
“You doubt me, Will?”
“Come on. Make me a believer. Just a little one.”
“Okay. Make a proposal.”
“Tell me what my mother is doing right now.”
“We have to go home. I can’t do it out in the open because I, you know, I have to leave my body.” She whispered that last part. “It’s not that I doubt that you’d watch over me, but it’s easier to be safe in my safe room at home.”
“You have a safe room?”
“We have a safe room.”
“I keep forgetting. Just give me a few days to adjust to thinking of everything that’s yours as being ours.”
“No problem.”
“So let’s go.”
She looked at my uneaten tacos. “You were talking about getting more tacos. You haven’t even finished those. Are you upset?”
I shook my head. “No. Just eager. Maybe a little excited.”
“You sure? Your mother will still be there if you enjoy your tacos first.”
Standing up, I said, “This experiment is even more fun than tacos.” Then I grabbed one of the untouched tacos and started eating it as I was walking back to the Jeep.
“Okay.” She shook her head, but got up, gathered the garbage, threw it in the receptacle and met me at the Jeep.
I swung into the passenger side, still holding my IBC, and gave her an encouraging smile.
Yes. I lied.
I wasn’t excited.
I was nervous.
Part of me wanted to find out she was the real deal. Part of me was terrified to find out she was the real deal. And part of me was worried she might be an ordinary everyday heiress with delusions of supernatural powers. Best to find out before the ceremony.
“When’s your birthday?” I asked to pass the time.
“October fourteenth.”
“I just missed it. How old were you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“What did you do to celebrate?”
“Danced naked in the moonlight.” When I looked to see if she was serious, she laughed. “Just kidding. We gave up cavorting with the devil centuries ago when we figured out there wasn’t any devil to cavort with.” It was my turn to snort. “Went to Sixth Street in Austin with friends. Listened to music. Got half plastered.
“I know when your birthday is.”
I smiled. “Oh yeah?”
“December thirteenth. It adds up to my lucky number, seven.”
“How do you figure that December thirteenth adds up to seven?”
“If somebody asks for the month and day of your birth, what do you say?”
“Twelve thirteen.”
“So picture that number in your mind like you would write it down. One, two, slash, one, three. You add up the numbers. One plus two plus one plus three equals seven.”
The smirk just couldn’t be helped. “You’re a superstitious witch, aren’t you?”
She laughed. “So what do you want for your birthday?”
“You naked popping out of a cake in our bedroom.”
Her eyes slid sideways to take me in. “I hope that’s always your answer, Will.”