“Do you gotta stomp and think so fucking loud, girl?” Ridge growled from the kitchen.
The smell of bacon hit her long before she entered. Dang it, luck obviously wasn’t on her side. Why couldn’t the witches have put her with another shifter family who wasn’t so doggone annoying? Alright, it wasn’t the witches’ fault, or Baba Yaga’s either, she didn’t think, but fate. In fact, she was grateful for whoever had been looking out for her that day and brought Ridge out to look for her. Their little town was right outside of Assjacket, Virginia, which unbeknownst to humans was where the leader of all witches, Baba Yaga aka Carol, and her mate lived along with his daughter, another witch who she’d yet to meet. Of course, she’d heard stories of the other witch, most of which Baba Yaga had to be exaggerating because seriously, a witch who was as crazy as her daughter-in-law supposedly was, couldn’t be the third most powerful witch in the world. However, Torrance had learned not to question the other female, knowing things could definitely be possible. Hello, she was a panther and a witch. Plus, if the most powerful witch were to be believed, her daughter-in-law had made her own bestie bald, more than once. So, yeah, she’d keep her thoughts to herself since she kinda liked her hair.
“Do you gotta be up before the asscrack of dawn cooking and waking the dead?” she countered, trying to distract Ridge from asking too many questions.
Ridge being Ridge lifted his right hand, flipping her the bird. “Your goat ate my tomatoes. Again.” He glared over his shoulder.
“How do you know it was Mr. Bixley? I mean, there’s all kinds of wildlife in the area. Case in point, look at us.” She waved a hand between the two of them. “How do I know it wasn’t you who didn’t decide to nibble on a ripe red tomato?”
Ridge growled. “Little girl, just because I love me some tomatoes like most love apples, don’t mean I’ll be eating my award winning ones while I’m in my fur. Nope, I’m all carnivore then, eating me some prey. Now hush and eat. I’m tired and plan to catch some Z’s.”
She folded her hands in front of her, hiding her grin. They both knew it was Mr. Bixley who’d eaten his beloved tomatoes. She’d have to erect a better fence around them this afternoon while Ridge slept, or he really was liable to go apeshit on her baby goat. At least he wasn’t a fainting goat for crying out loud. Like most witches, Mr. Bixley was her familiar. Only he wasn’t speaking to her. Yet. She was holding out hope he was just being stubborn. The little chocolate colored goat had called to her, much like she had called to Ridge. Only she wasn’t Ridge’s familiar, but his family of sorts. Gah, she needed to stop thinking and keep in the conversation.
Ridge’s fingers were snapping in her face, for what she was sure had been several times. “See, this is what I’m talking about. How are you supposed to find a mate if you’re always off in la la land?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes, knowing her mate would find her when the time was right. Like sooner rather than later, she hoped. But first, she needed to fix it so her familiar wouldn’t keep eating Ridge’s prized vegetables, or he’d make Mr. Bixley his dinner on his next shift. Fuck, she made a mental list of supplies she’d need to run into town to get.
“You look tired, kid. You stay out last night?” Ridge asked, putting a plate of bacon in front of her along with a heaping mound of eggs.
He was one hundred percent shifter, unlike her, who was a witch with a side of panther thrown in, thank you very much. If she’d been all witch, she’d have probably been able to conjure up all she’d need to erect a damn fence. She was getting better at the whole witchy thing, thanks to Baba Yaga and Cookie, her fairy witch godmother and the second most powerful witch. Of course, she wouldn’t call them that to their faces since they were like...all powerful and shit. Cookie would more than likely make her have an extra arm, or leg, which wouldn’t look good on her or anyone, while Baba would probably tell her daughter-in-law it was a free for all to make her bald. Again, she couldn’t pull off that look. Nope, Torrance liked her red hair.
She grabbed two pieces of bread, busying herself with the making of a bacon egg sandwich. “That would be a no, Ghost Rider. I helped close up the bar, came home all by my lonesome like always and fell into bed with a good book.” At twenty-three she was probably the only one in their entire stratosphere who was still a certified virgin. Not only did she have her V-card, she was sure if there really was a hymen inside her it was good and intact. Maybe she should go to a doctor and have her check and pop that fucker so at least she could say her cherry had been popped.
“You’re doing it again,” Ridge accused.
Torrance stopped chewing to look at him, raising one brow in question.
Ridge took a huge bite, tapping his temple. She waited for him to finish eating before she asked what the heck he meant. If she asked while he was chewing, he’d answer regardless of the fact he had food in his maw, only because he knew it made her gag. “Doing what exactly? Be more pacific,” she said, purposefully using the wrong word because she knew it irritated the fuck out of him and...anything for free entertainment was good entertainment, unless it was her getting made fun of. She’d cut a bitch real quick before she let that happen.
Ridge pointed a piece of bacon at her, but his phone rang, stopping
