A Witch In Time: Magic and Mayhem Book Three (20 page)

“Right as rain?” I repeated with narrowed eyes. “Did you turn into my dad?”

“Um … no,” he replied as he began to straighten the room. “Eat. You need your energy.”

“Because I’m going to turn into a wolf?” I hissed as I yet again tried to sit up.

I had more success this time, but I was still strangely shaky.

“No, of course not.” His laugh was hearty, but he was still in avoidance mode. “You have to be
born
a wolf.”

“Interesting,” I commented as I inhaled the eggs and the bagels as if I hadn’t eaten in a month. “I’m still hungry.”

“On it,” he said as he unloaded fruit, coffee cake and pickles from the cooler.

I grabbed the pickles and shoved them into my mouth followed by half the coffee cake and then went right back to the pickles. Damn, pickles and coffee cake were a delicious combo.

“Did you bring ice cream or raw steak or maybe some bones to chew on?” I asked with a mouthful and then froze.

Bones to chew on? What in the Goddesses name was wrong with me? I didn’t eat raw steak and I’d never gnawed on a bone in my life. Mac was now cleaning windows like his life depended on it and had worked up a sweat. It was kind of hot to see a sexy dude doing housework, but the windows were already spotless. The wolf had some explaining to do.

“You wanna help me out here?” I asked him as the truth I was firmly in denial of began to dawn on me.

“Sure,” he said as he grabbed an enormous raw steak and six bones out of the cooler and shoved them onto my hands.

“You knew I’d want this?” I shrieked in disbelief as my mouth watered at the disgusting pile of formerly inedible food in my lap.

“I thought there was a possibility,” he admitted sheepishly as he backed away cautiously.

“Of …?” I questioned with narrowed eyes, knowing the answer but unsure I could hear it without passing out.

“Of us making a baby,” he mumbled and quickly raised the raw steak to my lips.

I ate it as my brain and my emotions ping-ponged around like a spray of bullets from a machine gun. This was not possible. I just figured out I could love people and accept their love. I’d broken a bed during a sex marathon with a man who turns into a wolf. I call my woowoo Little Red Riding Hood. I couldn’t be anyone’s mother. I was a materialistic Shifter Wanker who used profanity in my spells.

I had no clue how to change diapers or weave fairy tales without sex in them. Taking care of
cats
was a challenge for me. How in the hell was I supposed to raise a baby? I was a magical, irresponsible, walking clusterfuck in Prada wedges. Tears blurred my eyes as I thought of all the ways I would unintentionally screw up my kid.

I didn’t deserve a baby.

“It doesn’t usually happen this quickly,” Mac said in a rush as he took me in his arms and held me close. “I felt the magic in the air, but I was so blinded with lust and love that I pushed it aside.”

“You knew?”
I accused and tried unsuccessfully to pull away. His arms felt so good, but I was torn with fear and confusion.

“Kind of,” he admitted. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop or say something, but I’m not sorry you’re carrying our child. This baby was created in love and I already love her—completely.”

My tears increased and I could hear the rain pattering on the roof of the tree house. The scent of blooms filled the air. I stood and walked numbly to the window.

Riotous color greeted my eyes and the sun shone bright making the meadow appear to be a painting so beautiful it was unreal. A glorious rainbow shot across the sky and bursts of pink and blue glittering magic shimmered through the raindrops.

The Goddess was sending me a message. There were no mistakes in life. Not even my loveless childhood was a mistake. I wouldn’t be who I was standing here right now if I hadn’t gone through what I had. I would have never met Mac or become the Shifter Wanker. I wouldn’t have run over my dad and spent nine months in the pokey with my annoying best friend, Sassy. I wouldn’t have starred in a heinous play… and I wouldn’t be pregnant.

I should have figured I’d be one of those girls that got knocked up on her wedding night—for lack of a more accurate term.

My tears still flowed but for an entirely different reason. I was going to be a real mommy. I was going to be a
good
mommy who loved her children and kissed them so often it would be embarrassing. I would rewrite the sad chapters of my book and make them wonderful for my children.

And the shopping… I was going to be great at that part. Baby clothes are freakin’ adorable. My kids will be the best-dressed kids alive.

“It’s not a girl,” I said quietly and turned to look at the man who was going to be an amazing father.

“It’s not?” he asked as he watched me with so much love in his eyes I was humbled.

“Well, it is,” I whispered as a small smile pulled at my lips. “But there’s a little boy in there too.”

“How do you know?” he asked as he crossed the room and gathered me in his arms.

Glancing over my shoulder I peeked at the pink and blue magic that floated toward me on the breeze and I grinned. “The Goddess told me.”

“We’re having two babies?” he whispered as he laid his hands protectively over my stomach.

“Yep,” I said as I placed my hands reverently over his. “We’re gonna a have litter.”

Roger was right. Life was not boring—terrifying maybe—but not boring. I held on tight to the father of my children—or my puppies. That still remained to be seen.

“I’ll eat more than usual,” I warned him.

“Goddess help us all,” he said with a chuckle as he buried his face in my hair and gently rubbed my stomach. “We’re going to be good parents, Zelda.”

“Yes, we are,” I said, closing my eyes and silently thanking the Goddess for leading me to this place in time. “We are going to be the best parents ever.”

And I knew with all my heart I was telling the truth.

However, we had to get through the pregnancy first.

# # The End… for now # #

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

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~ Robyn Peterman

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EXCERPT FROM
READY TO WERE

SHIFT HAPPENS SERIES
Book One

BOOK DESCRIPTION

I never planned on going back to Hung Island, Georgia. Ever.

I was a top notch Were agent for the secret paranormal Council and happily living in Chicago where I had everything I needed –  a gym membership, season tickets to the Cubs and Dwayne – my gay, Vampyre best friend. Going back now would mean facing the reason I’d left and I’d rather chew my own paw off than deal with Hank.

Hank the Tank Wilson was the six foot three, obnoxious, egotistical, perfect-assed, best-sex-of-my-life, Werewolf who cheated on me and broke my heart. At the time, I did what any rational woman would do. I left in the middle of the night with a suitcase, big plans and enough money for a one-way bus ticket to freedom. I vowed to never return.

But here I am, trying to wrap my head around what has happened to some missing Weres without wrapping my body around Hank. I hope I don’t have to eat my words and my paw. 

***This novella originally appeared in the
Three Southern Beaches
collection released July of 2014. This is an extended version of that story.

CHAPTER 1

“You’re joking.”

“No, actually I’m not,” my boss said and slapped the folder into my hands. “You leave tomorrow morning and I don’t want to see your hairy ass till this is solved.”

I looked wildly around her office for something to lob at her head. It occurred to me that might not be the best of ideas, but desperate times led to stupid measures. She could not do this to me. I’d worked too hard and I wasn’t going back. Ever.

“First of all, my ass is not hairy except on a full moon and you’re smoking crack if you think I’m going back to Georgia.”

Angela crossed her arms over her ample chest and narrowed her eyes at me. “Am I your boss?” she asked.

“Is this a trick question?”

She huffed out an exasperated sigh and ran her hands through her spiked ‘do making her look like she’d been electrocuted. “Essie, I am cognizant of how you feel about Hung Island, Georgia, but there’s a disaster of major proportions on the horizon and I have no choice.”

“Where are you sending Clark and Jones?” I demanded.

“New York and Miami.”

“Oh my god,” I shrieked. “Who did I screw over in a former life that those douches get to go to cool cities and I have to go home to an island called Hung?”

“Those douches
do
have hairy asses and not just on a full moon. You’re the only female agent I have that looks like a model so you’re going to Georgia. Period.”

“Fine. I’ll quit. I’ll open a bakery.”

Angela smiled and an icky feeling skittered down my spine. “Excellent, I’ll let you tell the Council that all the money they invested in your training is going to be flushed down the toilet because you want to bake cookies.”

The Council consisted of supernaturals from all sorts of species. The branch that currently had me by the metaphorical balls was WTF—Werewolf Treaty Federation. They were the worst as far as stringent rules and consequences went. The Vampyres were loosey goosey, the Witches were nuts and the freakin’ Fairies were downright pushovers, but not the Weres. Nope, if you enlisted you were in for life. It had sounded so good when the insanely sexy recruiting officer had come to our local Care For Your Inner Were meeting.

Training with the best of the best. Great salary with benefits. Apartment and company car. But the kicker for me was that it was fifteen hours away from the hell I grew up in. No longer was I Essie from Hung Island, Georgia—
and who in their right mind would name an island Hung
—I was Agent Essie McGee of the Chicago WTF. The irony of the initials was a source of pain to most Werewolves, but went right over the Council’s heads due to the simple fact that they were older than dirt and oblivious to pop culture.

Yes, I’d been disciplined occasionally for mouthing off to superiors and using the company credit card for shoes, but other than that I was a damn good agent. I'd graduated at the top of my class and was the go-to girl for messy and dangerous assignments that no one in their right mind would take... I’d singlehandedly brought down three rogue Weres who were selling secrets to the Dragons—another supernatural species. The Dragons shunned the Council, had their own little club and a psychotic desire to rule the world. Several times they’d come close due to the fact that they were loaded and Weres from the New Jersey Pack were easily bribed. Not to mention the fire-breathing thing…

I was an independent woman living in the Windy City. I had a gym membership, season tickets to the Cubs and a gay Vampyre best friend named Dwayne. What more did a girl need?

Well, possibly sex, but the
bastard
had ruined me for other men…

Hank “The Tank” Wilson was the main reason I’d rather chew my own paw off than go back to Hung Island, Georgia. Six foot three of obnoxious, egotistical, perfect-assed, alpha male Werewolf. As the alpha of my local Pack he had decided it was high time I got mated…to him. I, on the other hand, had plans—big ones and they didn’t include being barefoot and pregnant at the beck and call of a player.

So I did what any sane, rational woman would do. I left in the middle of the night with a suitcase, a flyer from the hot recruiter and enough money for a one-way bus ticket to freedom. Of course, nothing ever turns out as planned… The apartment was the size of a shoe box, the car was used and smelled like French fries and the benefits didn’t kick in till I turned one hundred and twenty five. We Werewolves had long lives.