She snorted but was glad he left. Not that she didn’t love Ridge like an annoying older brother, ‘cause she did. He and his family had taken her in when she’d been orphaned and left for dead as a scrawny little kid with nothing but the fur on her back. She didn’t even remember her parents, only running and more running. Ridge said she was close to death when he’d scented her on their land and had nearly left her to die, but then he’d picked her up by her scruff and brought her home. He’d been doing the same thing ever since. Only she didn’t really need him or anyone to pick her up and make sure she was okay. What she needed was a male to notice she was a female. Instead they all turned away from her out of either fear of Ridge, fear of her witch side or Baba Yaga. Which was nice knowing she had a protector on one hand, and the witches of crazytown. On the other hand, they weren’t helping her find a mate nor were they willing to help her cast a spell to find one, what with that being risky or some such thing.
Grabbing up her leftovers, she headed out the back toward the doors with the sweeping views of the lake. Mr. Bixley was waiting for her, his cute little sounds warming her heart. “Hey there, Mr. Bixley. How are you today?” She crouched down, petting the soft fur between his eyes. After placing the food into his dish, she gave him fresh water. “I need you to be good and stay out of Ridge’s way today. Can you do that?” she asked the baby goat. He nuzzled his soft little head into her, giving her a soft bleat. “You know you’re supposed to be my familiar? All the other familiars talk to their witches.” Her little goat stared at her with intelligent eyes, unblinking as if he thought she was stupid.
She stood up, looking around. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, making her panther itch to be set free. The need to be somewhere was almost overwhelming, and it took her more effort to hold her shift back. Mr. Bixley backed away from her, sensing the true danger she posed. “I won’t ever hurt you, baby,” she promised the little guy, taking several steps away. Not even if she were half starved and out of her mind, would she ever turn to the little creature who entrusted her with his life. Never would she even think of her baby goat as a food source, even if he never spoke to her like a familiar should.
She looked around one last time, making sure the gate was closed to his little enclosure. For his little home, she’d created a small oasis for the animal with a comfortable bed that had cost her over a hundred and fifty dollars. The playhouse was a child’s playhouse with a floor she’d covered in a shag rug that had been over two hundred dollars. Heck the house alone was well over five hundred. All in all, Mr. Bixley’s home had cost more than a lot of people spent on them tiny homes, but she wanted him to be comfortable.
She tested the lock on the gate, not that Mr. Bixley hadn’t found a way to open it and go eat up Ridge’s tomatoes, but other predators weren’t smart like her goat. Back inside the house, she went in through the kitchen, doing a quick clean-up of the breakfast dishes. No sound came from upstairs where Ridge slept, which was always a good sign. He didn’t seem to be sleeping enough lately.
Her pickup was in the attached garage next to Ridge’s Harley, his huge jacked-up truck, along with his precious muscle car. The old refurbished jacked-up Ford had been a project she and Ridge’s father had done together, making it her prized possession. Not that she didn’t love her motorcycle too. Although the guys Ridge rode with called it a pussy crocket, it could outrun any of their bikes without question. Not to mention, it was sleek as fuck and it was a lot lighter than one of their beloved Harleys.
“Shit, I forgot my purse,” she muttered, going inside to get her bag.
She gave herself a mental bitch slap, knowing if she didn’t get her shit straight, she could totally blow something up. After inhaling a couple times, she remembered to check for strange scents before getting into the old Ford.
“I’m getting as paranoid as Ridge.” A quick press of the opener on the visor had the door opening, letting in the sun. The bright orb in the sky almost blinded her while she waited for the door to lift completely. Torrance didn’t want to fill the garage up with fumes, so she waited to start her truck. She had no desire to be the one to off her adopted brother while he slept. Nope, not on her watch.
The deep rumble from the big block had her smiling. She was most assuredly a girl who liked engines that went vroom, old vehicles, and even the Harleys the guys rode. Her LS-218 was her baby because it could go from zero to sixty in two seconds, and she’d won it in Vegas on her twenty first birthday. Baba Yaga still vowed to ground her for life after that weekend. What happened to the saying about things happening in Vegas staying in Vegas? Well, that would probably mean her bike would’ve had to stay in the bright city as well. The sleek black machine was the most expensive piece of metal she
