Charmed Spirits (18 page)

“Oh,
I would.”

“Fine.”

“Good,
because you’re being an idiot.”

She
knew she was. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever actually leave. It had taken
her all night to pack when it should have only taken an hour. She wanted to
stay but was too afraid to say it.

Justin
drove her to Jackson’s. He’d refused to let her drive herself because of her
getaway vehicle. She rolled her eyes and winced. Her forehead still hurt from
the fire, but she was getting better.

“He
loves you, you know. We all do.”

“I
know, Justin. But it was all my fault.”

“No,
it was Stacey’s. Get it through your skull, Matt doesn’t blame you. We don’t
either. You’re our sister. You can’t just leave us.”

He
reached out and gripped her hand and she smiled. She loved all the Cooper boys.
God, she missed Matt. Why the hell had she been packing? She loved Matt and
wanted to be part of Holiday. How could she leave?

Jordan
wasn’t going to leave. Not this time.

She
couldn’t run from her problems again.

She
couldn’t run from Matt.

They
pulled up, and Matt ran to the car, pulled open the door, and kissed her hard.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned into his mouth.

God,
she loved his mouth.

“Subtle,
Matt. Subtle.” Justin laughed as he walked inside, leaving her and Matt alone.

She
pulled back and took a deep breath. “I love you.”

“I
love you too. Don’t leave me like that again.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“Don’t
be sorry, just don’t do it again.”

She
smiled. “Okay.”

“And
before, when you made that potion? This town shouldn’t have given you reasons
to want to disappear. I’m sorry you felt that way, baby.”

She
shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault. You were my only good thing back then.”

He
kissed her again, and she melted against him.

“Marry
me,” he whispered.

“What?”
She could not have heard him right, though her heart sped up.

He
laughed. “Marry me. Be my everything. You already are.”

“Yes.
A thousand times yes!” She squealed, and he picked her up and twirled her
around the front lawn.

“Hey,
kids, stop goofing off and get in here,” Jackson ordered from the front porch.
He tried to sound menacing, but Jordan could see the slight smile on his face
he couldn’t hide completely. “I made dinner, and you know how often that
happens. So get your asses in here.” With that, he stormed back in, and Matt
laughed. Jackson always seemed to have a stormy outlook on life but Jordan
didn’t know why.

“Ahh,
I think he likes me,” Jordan teased.

“He
loves you, just like the rest of my brothers.”

“Oh,
really?” She quirked a brow.

“Not
as much as me. And if any of them touch you, I’ll kill them.”

“Have
I told you how much I like this whole caveman act on you? It’s cute.”

“Cute?
I’m fierce.”

She
patted his chest. “Sure, baby.”

Matt
growled and led her to the door. “I’ll get you back for that.”

She
brightened. “Really? With a table?”

He
groaned. “Babe, we’re about to go eat with my brothers at the dining room table.
Don’t put those images in my head.”

“I
can’t help it. I like being bent over things,” she whispered.

“You’re
a witch, you know that?”

She
beamed. “And proud of it.”

“It’s
about time you got here. I’m starving,” Tyler complained with a smile.

She
sat, and they dove into their steaks, baked potatoes, corn, and rolls. A real
man’s meal. She groaned at the perfectly cooked steak. Oh, hell, screw the
man’s meal; a woman couldn’t have asked for a better meal.

 Jordan
looked up at Justin, who wasn’t eating. He was looking rather pale and sick. He
looked a bit distracted and off-center.

“What’s
wrong, Justin?” she asked.

He
looked up, his gaze a bit off. “What? Oh, I’m just not feeling well, I guess.
Don’t worry about me.”

She
nodded but was determined to keep an eye on him. After all, he was going to be
her brother. She felt at peace and warm at that thought.

As
the rest dug in, Matt nudged her knee, an odd look on his face. “Did you hear
the news?”

“What
news?”

Jackson
put his fork down and took a sip of his beer. “There was a vote today on who should
replace Prescott.”

She blinked.
“Really? That was fast. Who won? No wait, let me guess? Jackson?”

The
man in question let out a dry laugh. “Oh no, I’m not the lucky one.”

“Then
who?”

“You,
baby,” Matt said.

“Uh,
what?” The men broke out in laughter, and she felt like she was missing the
joke. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh
yes, baby. They wanted someone they trust in power.”

“So
they picked me? They don’t trust me.” Yeah,
so
not right.

“Yep,”
Matt answered. “It seems they wanted someone they knew would do a good job. They’ve
seen you with the kids at school and know you care, Jordan. Plus, they know you
have experience in PR. Plus, we’re changing so many laws because we’re losing
the old ways, they want someone fresh. We have lawyers who can deal with the
nitty-gritty details, but they want someone to be upfront and honest. They
wanted to show you that they were on your side.”

She
sat there speechless.

They
wanted her to be their mayor?

She
felt like breaking out a rendition of Sally Field’s
“They like me; they
really like me!”
But that felt crass.

“So,
Ms. Mayor, what do you say?” Justin asked, his face still pale.

“I
say I have no idea what I’m doing, but hell yeah!”

Jackson
held up his glass. “To Mayor Jordan Cross.”

“Make
that Mayor Jordan Cooper,” Matt corrected.

“Holy
shit!” Bray yelled. “Congrats!”

The
rest of the brothers congratulated them, touching her arms and shoulders and
patting Matt on the back. She settled against him and smiled. This was her family.
Her home. Why had she ever wanted to leave it?

“I
love you, Jordan. You’re mine.”

“Just
like you’re mine. I love you too.”

“You
know, you utterly charmed me.”

“Anytime,
ghost boy, any time.”

The End

Coming soon in the Holiday, Montana
World, Santa’s Executive.

Justin’s Story.

About the Author

Carrie
Ann Ryan is a bestselling paranormal and contemporary romance author. After
spending too much time behind a lab bench, she decided to dive into the romance
world and find her werewolf mate - even if it’s just in her books. Happy
endings are always near - even if you have to get over the challenges of
falling in love first.

Her first
book,
An Alpha's Path,
is the first in her Redwood Pack series. She's also an
avid reader and lover of romance and fiction novels. She love meeting new
authors and new worlds. Any recommendations you have are appreciated.
Carrie Ann lives in New England with her husband and two kittens.

Also
from this Author:

Now
Available:

Redwood Pack Series:

An Alpha’s Path

A Taste for a Mate

Trinity Bound

A Night Away

Holiday, Montana Series:

Charmed Spirits

Coming
Soon:

Redwood Pack

Enforcer’s Redemption

Blurred Expectations

Holiday, Montana Series:

Santa’s Executive

Dante’s Circle:

Her Warriors’ Three Wishes

Have you tried Carrie Ann’s other
series, Dante’s Circle?

Dust of My Wings is now available

Chapter 1

A
summons from the council never led to good things. Shade Griffin’s millennia
worth of experience told him that. No matter what he truly desired, he’d do
what he was told. He didn’t have another option, and why would he disobey now?
He never had before. Whatever demands they dealt might seem tedious to a
long-lived being such as him, he didn’t have anything else better to do.

Such
was the life of an angel in his predicament; a vast and endless sense of being,
yet no one with whom to share it.

Shade
shook off the misery that threatened to creep along his skin and suffocate him.
The idea of sharing his endless life with someone else, someone special, had
long since burned away. No need to think about it again.

The
sun broke through the clouds, warming his cool, honey-colored, almost dark tan,
skin. He lifted his face, letting the rays soak into his pores. His eyes closed,
and he took a deep breath, not really wanting to leave the spot. He rolled his
neck, stretching his muscles, and then opened his eyes. His back ached from the
long flight to the enclave. He stretched his wings, the light shimmering off
his midnight black wings that trailed to a rim of deep blue. The wind picked
up, his blue-black hair flowing behind him.

Shade
arched his back, his wings flared, and blue dust trickled off and into the air,
and drifted to the ground below.

Damn
stuff kept doing that; and there was nothing he could do about it. He clenched
his fists and winced in pain. He looked down at the healing abrasions on his
knuckles and muttered a curse.

As
one of the appointed enforcers of angelic law, he’d just come back from the
punishment of a young angel: a cocky one at that. He hated doing it, but the
unrepentant jerk had decided it would be fun to fly in broad daylight without
cloud cover over Area 51. Really? Cliché much? It was easy enough to downplay
the event as another UFO sighting, which would certainly bring out the crazies,
but it didn’t negate the fact that the reckless angel had broken angelic law by
letting humans see him flying.

Because
he had decided to laugh about it to his friends and merely shrugged it off,
Shade had to step in. If he’d apologized, then Shade wouldn’t have had to use
his fists. But no. The young one mouthed off and challenged him, so Shade had
to accept. After all, as a warrior, he could not ignore a challenge. Doing so
would negate his authority.

And
he won.

Of
course.

He
still hated punishing others, even though it was his job. Between him and his
best friend, Ambrose, who was practically his brother, they dealt with most of the
enforcing the angelic laws. Together they’d done what they had to do for
centuries, and in Ambrose’s case, even longer.

Shade
was a warrior angel. In the times of the Angelic Wars, he’d fought alongside
the best of the best. Hell, he was the best of the best. Well, maybe tied with
Ambrose, but he wouldn’t tell the other angel that.

Shade
chuckled as he envisioned Ambrose’s reaction to his thought. Ambrose was sure
to want to prove just the opposite to be the case, and Shade would be more than
willing to give it a go.
If you couldn’t fight for supremacy with your best
friend, how else would you even know how good you were?

Now
those wars were long since over. Times of awkward peace were at hand, meaning
the warriors herded the other angels and made sure they followed the rules the
council members set in place.

They
followed the rules, even if the rules were sometimes, in his opinion, too
strict for their own good. But he would never voice it. He was merely a warrior
angel.

He
wasn’t even a godly one like in the fables of mortals. Their race wasn’t that of
a god. Yes, if theology was correct, a god at some point had created them, but
they weren’t God’s right hand men; they were not the symbol of goodness and
hope. Far from it. They were just another species with rules, regulations, and
a seemingly endless long life in order to be subjugated.