I was nervous and my hands shook because of it.
Why would Quinton do this to me? He was supposed to be on my side! And, what the hell? Mr. Cole knew about magic? He knew that the guys were witches? How was that possible?
Neither were sitting on the fancy looking furniture like I had expected. Instead, they both stood on opposite sides of the room, their arms were crossed over their chests and they glared at each other. Poor Mr. Cole. Quinton was so much better at glaring than he was.
Mr. Cole had his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. He wore black slacks and his feet were bare. Casual was a very rare look for him. I’d only ever seen him in his pajamas once, and I’d never seen him in jeans before. I think he only owned tennis shoes because he liked to run.
Quinton, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have a problem with jeans. Tight, hip-hugging, ass-cupping, dark blue jeans. He wore black combat boots and a plain black t-shirt. The flames slithering up his forearms were on display today.
I liked the cowboy boots way more.
A muscle in his cheek twitched as he clenched his jaw. I didn’t know why he was so mad, it wasn’t like he was the one parentless and soon to be homeless. Those dark, bottomless eyes locked on me and I realized he wasn’t simply mad, he was furious. Furious on my behalf.
God.
What did I ever do to deserve someone like him in my life? Yeah, he freaked me out and he certainly scared the beejezus out of me at times, but I knew he’d never, not ever, do anything to truly hurt me. But he would hurt someone else on my behalf. I shouldn’t like him for it but I couldn’t help myself.
Quinton was growing on me.
Like fungus.
I smiled at him really big and said, “Hey, Uncle Quinton. So good to see you again.”
His nostrils flared angrily as he directed his hostile glare at me.
“That’s not even funny,” he growled at me. “Don’t joke about something like that. I’m not a fucking pervert.”
Well, he wasn’t exactly normal either. He wanted me to have an intimate relationship with him, his friends and his nephew. But, no, oh no, he was no pervert.
Please.
I held my hands up in front of me in surrender.
“Sorry, sorry,” I said with a small, innocent smirk on my face.
He opened his mouth, likely to bark something awful at me but Mr. Cole’s voice stopped him.
“Excuse me,” Mr. Cole said sharply. “Would either of you care to explain to me what in the hell’s going on. You can’t just tell me she’s got magic and then act like nothing big just happened.”
I shuffled across the carpet, moving closer to Quinton. I couldn’t help but be drawn to him.
“She has magic,” Quinton said softly as I slid up beside him. I wanted to reach out and touch him.
Why did I want to touch him so badly? I didn’t know the answer to that but I desperately wanted to run my fingertips across the pretty colors covering his arms.
“Tell him, babe,” Quinton said quietly. “Tell him you have magic.”
I shook my head.
Absolutely not.
No way in hell.
No way was I telling Mr. Cole I had magic. He’d think I was crazy. He probably thought Quinton was crazy. Heck, I knew he was. I didn’t think we should go around blabbing about being witches when they were, at one point in time, burned at the stake simply for existing. It didn’t seem like a smart idea to me. And I didn’t appreciate him telling my secret to Mr. Cole. There were very few people who meant something to me and he was one of them. I did not want him to ship me off to the loony bin because I thought I was a witch. No, thank you.
Quinton frowned at me. “It’s okay, baby. He knows about us. He grew up with Tyson’s dad. They were best friends and they were in the same coven together. He’s one of us.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. The same coven? He was just like us? Did that mean… was he trying to say… Did Mr. Cole have magic? Was he a witch? How could I have lived with him all this time and not known that he had magic?