Puck: 1-9 - S. G. Ricketts (cat reading book TXT) 📗

back. This guy was really off his rocker! And yet... I wanted to hear more.

He was waiting for me to reemerge. “Arrows, no. Any kind of weapon or tool, really, isn’t used. Tools can fail you, where you yourself can do things much more efficiently.” He unbuttoned the first few buttons on his jacket and removed his scarf. “If I were Puck, I’d be a man about it and do it myself. I’d tear them apart with my own power rather than lay that responsibility on some inanimate object.” His voice was incredibly bitter. “Love isn’t something to be easily divided, let alone accidentally destroyed or mistaken.”

I finally stopped cleaning. He sensed my silence and turned to face me. “This will sound insane... Then again, Joe has me believing there are ghosts in my apartment...” He chuckled darkly at my muttering. “Are... are you Puck? I mean, it’s completely impossible, but...” I let the sentence hang there unfinished. But with the snow and the air and your drop-dead gorgeous looks. And the shimmer, of course. My eyes slid again to that faint rippling on his back.

He smiled. “Would you believe me if I said I was?”

I shook my head, trying to fight the urge to smile back. “Not for a second. Besides, what would you have to do with me? I’m not with anyone and I haven’t been for over a year. Love’s over-rated as it is.”

He stood and drained the rest of his coffee, Adam’s apple bouncing with each swallow. “Here.” I tossed the offered cup into my still-full trash can and met his gaze. “You’re a mystery to me, Rebekkah.” He rested his palms against the counter and leaned across, searching my face. This constant soul-digging was rather uncomfortable. “A complete mystery. Right now, I have no business with you, but soon I think I will. And love is never over-rated. Abused and taken for granted, yes. Never over-rated.” I shivered at the intensity of his words. His eyes slid down my body and back up, and I crossed my arms, unnerved. “There is something about you... But no, you’re safe from the guiles of Puck tonight. Tonight, I have a different couple I must separate. Tomorrow or the next day might be a different story.”

I swallowed. He smelled of pine and lavender and something much more musky and masculine. “So... You’ll be back?”

The tension broke and he laughed. “Yes, Rebekkah. I’ll be back. I don’t know why, but I’ll be back. Maybe someday I’ll have to break your heart. For now, I’d come back for the coffee alone.” He flipped his scarf back around his neck and buttoned his jacket. “Stay here until the storm passes and you’ll be fine.”

“But if you’re Puck, why do you go by James?” He chuckled and pushed open the door. Snowflakes spun in and I shivered.

“Would you really write Puck across a cup?”

Just before he vanished into the storm, I swore I saw the faintest outline of wings.

 

 

 

 

Wake

Chapter Two

I woke with a start, my internal alarm jolting me out of a rather pleasant dream that had Mr. Darcy and a rather scrumptious Chris Hemsworth waiting on me hand and foot. Groaning, I fell back on the armchair, trying to pull the last few strings of dreamland back around me. It could not be 4:00 yet. For my imaginary love life’s sake, it couldn’t be. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperately searching my mind for any trace of the dream but, like all dreams, it had slipped away. “Figures. I can’t even have one decent dream to myself, can I?” I cracked an eyelid and looked at my iPhone. Sure enough, 4:01 am glared back at me. “And so another day begins,” I grumbled, swinging my legs off the arm of the chair.

The coffee shop lay quiet around me, window blinds pulled down and machines off. I stifled another groan. With the blizzard last night, I’d been trapped. The muscles in my neck screamed from sleeping in an armchair all night, but I hadn’t died on my way home. This was good, I reminded them. Dead is much worse than sore. They didn’t agree. Movement was torture. Still, I shuffled my way over to the counter and flipped on one of the machines. “What good is owning a coffee shop if I can’t drink it, right?” I grimaced. “And what good is owning a coffee shop if they put you away for being crazy, Rebekkah?” I mumbled. “I should really quit this talking out loud thing.” The smell of coffee began to fill the air and I felt my head begin to clear. “Just need my juice. Then I’ll be fine.”

I rummaged under the counter blindly for a mug, not wanting to turn the lights on just yet. Foremost in my mind was the electric bill, but the soft glow from outside and from the myriad of mini lights was soothing, too. My hand found a cup and I set it down. The glow from the exit sign and from the coffee machine blended on its creamy surface, giving it a Christmas-y look, red and green. I rolled my eyes. Coffee. I needed coffee. The machine beeped once and I shoved my cup underneath. The steam was intoxicating. I waited. And waited. “Damn it!” I smacked the top and finally a trickle of blessed liquid came out. Giving the machine one last glare, I moved on to the syrups.

My early morning routine slid me into my body. The last dregs of sleep relinquished their hold and I took a deep breath. Hazelnut and half and half swirled around my stir straw, the most beautiful sight I’d seen since, well, since last night.

Last night.

I froze. Good God, how could I have forgotten about last night? My eyes flicked to the door, almost expecting him to walk back through it. The door stayed closed, though, the street light outside shining faintly through the blinds. I shook my head and walked to the nearest table, still disgruntled. Had it been real at all? Or had it been a dream? I mean, really, when did men of that caliber ever actually appear in reality? It had to be a dream, a prequel to my lovely Mr. Darcy and Thor. I took a sip of coffee and snorted. Mr. Darcy and Thor. Now there’s a strange combination. Come to think of it, the two were pretty similar. Both strikingly handsome, although in different ways. (I don’t think Mr. Darcy would have found hard-core muscles high on his to-do list.) Both were old-fashioned. Both had a mean arrogant streak. Still chuckling at the thought, I drained the last of my coffee and started in on prepping for the day.

* * * *

6:00 came and went with my usual trickle of customers. The sun hovered just beneath the horizon, the first hints of dawn painting the sky a rosy pink. The snow plows had come through just after I woke up and cars were already crawling past. I handed a peppermint latte to a customer and let my gaze linger. This pre-dawn light was always my favorite, as if the world itself held its breath. The snow drifts sparkled with the first hints of day and the blue-white light of the street lamp. I smiled. Absolutely beautiful.

“Did you hear about poor Martha Beddingsfield?”

The whispered words broke my concentration and I turned around to see Joe tying on his apron. He shook his head and I grinned. If anyone in this town was a gossip, it was Joe. “No, what happened?” I teased, returning most of my attention to the register. “What can I get for you, Betty?”

The elderly woman’s attention, however, was fully on Joe. Her eyes grew even bigger behind her bifocals. “No! What happened? That poor dear, was it bad?” She turned to me and whispered loudly, “She’s supposed to be married next week, you know?”

I rolled my eyes. “Betty, everyone knows. It’s been the talk of the town for months now.” While I loved small town life, sometimes “population 2300” left a little to be desired in the news category. Especially when that news surrounded the Homecoming queen from my senior year.

Betty shushed me and turned on Joe expectantly. “So?”

He took a dramatic breath and I rolled my eyes again. Thank goodness Betty was our only client at the moment. Joe glanced at me, a smile hidden in those wicked green eyes. I threw my hands up. “Go on! Tell it before we all pass out from holding our breath.” He grinned and straightened his apron again. “Busy body,” I muttered, grinning, and propped myself against the counter.

He smiled brightly. “And you love me for it! Now then,” he said, settling into his business. “I was at home last night, and what do you think I saw but poor Martha come runnin’ out of Ben’s house in tears. So I went across the street to make sure she was ok n’ all, given the storm.” Betty nodded encouragingly. I stifled an urge to snort. Joe’s only reason for going to check on Martha was for gossip. God love the man, and so did I, but he probably left her sitting in the storm after worming the story out of her. He caught my expression and turned a haughty look on me. “I brought her inside for a cup of tea to warm her up.”

I pursed my lips. Laughter would only prolong the torture of his story. “Of course,” I managed. “How very sweet of you.”

Betty glared at me. “Yes, very sweet, Joe dear. Now, what happened?”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “She went to Ben’s after work, intent on not lettin’ him be alone durin’ the storm and like. But—” He took a deep breath and, like the amazing boss I was, I stole his thunder.

“Buuut she found out he wasn’t alone!” I crowed.

Joe and Betty turned identical glowers on me. “But-” Joe continued. “She found him in bed with Alicia Hartwood. Their wedding is cancelled,” he finished, bowing comically.

Betty pressed a gloved hand to her chest. “Oh Lord have mercy. The poor dear. Now I just don’t know what’s gotten into you younger generation. Why, all this switching and bouncing from one person to the next! Why, in my day, it just wasn’t done!”

I turned back around to the register and grinned down at her. “Come on, Betty. It was. You guys were just better at hiding it back then. Your usual chai latte today?”

She grinned back at me, dentures bright in the florescent light. “Oh, you know me so well, dearie. It’s a shame you kids can’t learn the same amount of…restraint.” Did I mention that Betty is one of my favorite old people?

Chai latte made and Betty out the door, I pulled Joe aside. “Is that true, all that business about Martha?”

He grinned viciously, letting his more feminine side out. “Oh girl, you know it! Shall we let the gloating begin?”

I paused, ringing a rag out in the sanitizer bucket. “Oh, I dunno, Joe. I mean, she just lost the man she loved…”

I could almost feel his eyebrow shoot up. “Umm hmmm, and she stole your man. And has more money than any person should rightfully have, and rubs it in your face every time she comes in