The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf (Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4) by Kate Quinn (uplifting books for women .txt) 📗

“Hey, if you want to give it another go, I’ll call up Kimmy right now. I’ll tell her that I’m leaving her for you.”

I laugh. “Liar. You’re all talk.”

He winks at me and turns the volume back up on podcast. “I love this shit!” At the sound of his name, Shit pops into the front seat to cuddle onto my lap.

By the time we reach the gravel parking lot in the middle of nowhere, I am more than ready for Jax and I to part ways.

“Here, hold on to this.” I give him my phone. “Don’t sell it!”

“I would never...okay, I would, but I promise that I won’t.”

I gather up my broom and get Shit on his leash.

“You want me to wait with you until the bus arrives?” Jax asks as he pulls my suitcase from the trunk.

“Nope.” Taking the suitcase from him, I grab his arm and steer him back to the driver’s seat. “You have a long ride back home.” I try to give him a little shove into the car, but he resists.

“I’m not sure about this.”

“I am,” I tell him. “Now go home and worry about Kimmy. I’m not your problem anymore.”

Jax’s gaze softens and he takes my face in his hands. “You’ll always be my problem. And that’s a promise.”

Instead of threatening to crush Jax’s balls again, I kiss the tip of his nose and then step away. “I’ve got work to do and you’re getting in the way. Now go.”

I give him a wave as he pulls away so he can see that I’m okay. The truth is, though, that I am a little nervous. I am really way out in the middle of nowhere and the bus that’s coming is going to take me even further. As a city girl, I prefer being somewhere I know that if I get into trouble I can scream for help and someone will yell back for me to shut my loud mouth.

It’s too late to chicken out, though, so I pick up my broom and suitcase and trudge over to the battered picnic table where three other people are already sitting.

Two of them are young frat guy looking types. I’m pretty sure they’re just interested in getting laid and I wonder if the cult has a way to weed those types out from the true believers. Of course, if such a system exists, I could be caught as well. It’s not like my motives for being here are pure.

“All right,” one of the frat guys says. “We got two babes and two dudes. Let’s Come Together while we wait for the bus.”

The other girl rolls her eyes. Just because someone likes sex doesn’t mean they don’t have any standards. And neither of us seems interested in getting gonorrhea from one of these basic bros.

I put down my suitcase and broom and beam at them. “Oh, that would be so great!” I exclaim. “This type of acceptance is exactly why I came here! In the real world guys are so turned off by my vagina quills. I mean, they only lightly puncture the penis...unless you pull out too fast, then there’s always the chance of permanent detachment.” I grin at them brilliantly while they try to hide their expressions of horror. “But that rarely happens.” Reaching for the buttons on my pants, I look from one guy to the other. “Which one of you wants to go first?”

They exchange looks.

“She’s joking,” one of them says.

“Okay, then you go,” his friend replies.

“I’ll be gentle,” I trill.

That’s apparently the breaking point.

“Actually, we’re, ugh, this isn’t—”

“We’ll pass,” the friend cuts in.

Keeping my smile pasted on, I shrug. “Okay, I’m sure we’ll have a chance once we’re settled into the commune. I’m so excited not to be the only female with a predatory vagina. I hear it’s quite common. You never know which of us girls has teeth down there,” I say with a gnashing motion.

“No, actually, we just realized, we can’t join today,” the one says, coming to his feet and backpedaling slowly away.

“Right,” number two agrees. “I recently found out that my grandma is in this hospital, and she needs—”

“Oh, is she getting vagina quills implanted?” I ask brightly. “It’s all the rage as you age!”

Without even saying good-bye they sling their duffel bags over their shoulders and take off, running down the middle of the highway and glancing back as if to make sure I’m not in pursuit.

I sit down next to the remaining woman who watched this whole exchange with silent and wide-eyed interest.

“I wonder what got into them?” I ask.

She blinks innocently. “I think they were freaked out at the idea of having sex with a woman who has quills in her vajayjay.” Frowning slightly, she adds, “I’ve never heard of that before and I thought that I knew all the types of supes. Then again, my best friend is a dragon shifter and before she showed up no one knew such a thing existed, so who really knows.” She holds out a hand. “I’m Cassie, by the way.”

“Paige,” I say, taking her hand in mine. “This is Shit,” I nod to my dog, who promptly puts up a paw for a shake. Cassie squeals and pumps his leg like a businessman at a high-powered meeting.

“I love Dalmanthers,” she says. “They are the best thing since fried bread.”

The flub of this very normal human saying tips me off. I’ve met enough supes that can’t make typical conversation to spot one in the wild.

“I’m human,” I say. “You?” Okay, not exactly subtle, but asking outright is the easiest way to find out if she’s a supe.

“Oh, I’m human too,” she says. “But gifted.” She does a little jazz hands effect that is cute but not clarifying.

“Gifted?”

“I’m a seer. I have visions of the future,” she says.

“Wow,” I say, unimpressed. Maybe she is just a flake. “I always thought people who said they could see the future were charlatans.”

Cassie frowns. “Hmm,