“Oh, hey, Calluna!” I call out, after a quick glance over my shoulder tells me the shop owner is the one talking to me. “Yeah, I think I’m going to have to give in on this one. I’m a pushover.”
I turn to face her, and she shoots me a smile until her gaze drops down to the furball in my arms and then her face falls.
“Erm, Jasmine, what the hell is that?” She points at Batfink as if it wasn’t completely obvious what she was referring to.
“My new...dog?” I ask hopefully. There goes my theory of Calluna being able to identify his breed. I thought she knew everything to do with animals.
“That is definitely not a dog. It's strange, but I'm not completely sure what he is.”
“What? The rescue shelter said he was probably a mongrel…” I begin to say.
“Only men are mongrels,” she snarks, making me smile.
“So I figured that mongrel meant he was a dog,” I finish.
She approaches Batfink and immediately starts to coo and show him the love, which he laps up with relish.
“Not a dog, doll,” she repeats, shaking her head.
“Well, whatever he is, he’s mine. Or it would seem, as he’s apparently the one in charge here, that I am his.”
Batfink gives a small yip in agreement, and Calluna looks amused. She shakes her head at me, but I know she’s as much of a sucker for furballs as I am. Though I do briefly wonder what the hell I've taken on, but then I look down at his little face and shrug. He’s too cute. I’m a pushover.
A fleeting thought flies through my mind that maybe, just maybe, Batfink has found me because he’s meant to be my familiar...but just as quickly I dismiss the idea. I’m a half-witch, so no familiars for me.
We finish our shopping expedition without incident. Well, almost without incident. There was a slight moment when aisle four needed a cleanup after Batfink went postal because I tried to put a collar and lead on him...but other than that he was a perfect gentleman. So long as he was getting his own way. I loaded up on toys and treats and every useless amenity needed for raising a not-a-dog.
Calluna seemed amused. She told me I didn’t need to buy half that shit, but hey, it’s all profit in her till right? You’d think she’d be happy that I’m clueless and panic-buying.
As I’m paying and rummaging around in my bag for my purse, Calluna holds Batfink and shows him some lovin’. He basks in her adoration like he’s king of the world.
“Shit, I can’t find anything in this stupid bag!” I grumble, dumping the contents onto the counter.
“Good book?” Calluna asks, nodding to the romance novel. I blush.
“So far, yeah. It’s not my normal style, and I’m not too far in yet, but…yeah...I like it. It’s, errr, better than the cover suggests.”
I’m saved from having to meet her eye by locating the purse. I hand over the cash without a word and then distract myself by repacking my bag. Well, hastily shoving everything back in. The book tingles under my touch again but in my flustered state, it barely registers.
“Enjoy your book,” she tells me. “I’ve actually read that one and it’s very, very good.” There’s something in the way she praises it, in the knowing look she gives me, and the smirk she throws at Batfink as she hands him back to me, that has me wondering what the hell that’s supposed to mean.
***
Done, I head to the shop for the day, Batfink in tow. I can’t park outside like I normally do, because a massive dumpster stands in my usual space, so I have to take one further up the road. I’m walking to the shop door, keys, bags and Batfink in hand, trying not to drop anything when a loud voice calls, “Watch out below!”
I look up in time to see a dark object hurtling toward me. I know I need to move, but I can’t. I stare, frozen to the spot, as an enormous slab of what looks like concrete flies toward me. All I manage to do is drop everything that I’m holding. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going to die.
As the ginormous object gets closer and closer, I do what any self respecting girl would do: I close my eyes and pray for a miracle.
When the impact comes, it’s not from the direction I’m expecting. A wall of solid something hits my chest, winding me, and I fly backward. I land hard on my ass on the sidewalk, to shouts from above and what I think is Batfink going mental somewhere in the background. Phew, at least he’s okay.
“Shit, are you okay?” I blink hard.
“Seeing double,” I murmur, disorientated. I swear the hottest guy known to man is standing in front of me, and here I am seeing two of him. Which isn’t exactly a bad thing, but I don’t want to pass out or vomit on him if I have a concussion.
“Did I hit my head?” I reach up to tentatively touch it, when really what I want to do is rub my ass because I fell pretty hard on it, but that would be too embarrassing.
“No, love, you didn’t.”
“She thinks she’s seeing double,” a second voice chimes in.
“Shall we tell her?” asks the first, sounding concerned.
“It’s more fun if we don’t,” the new, amused voice replies.
“Dick,” the first speaker voices what I’m thinking.
“Erm, excuse me...” I begin. I’m still sitting on the sidewalk, but Batfink has jumped into my lap and, after licking my face to make sure I’m okay, he’s taken to growling at the...wait, two guys staring down at me? “I’m not seeing double?”
“No, love.” Mr Gorgeous Number 1 grins down at me.
“Not at all,” Gorgeous Number 2 adds with a wink. “God really did make two of us this good looking.”
Ugh, gorgeous, yes, but what a jerk. I have no time for arrogance and ego. He holds out a hand to help me up, but Batfink bares his teeth, obviously sharing my opinion on the stranger. I get to my feet on my own and survey the mess around me. Shattered concrete lies all around where I was just standing, and the contents of my bags are scattered everywhere. Thank god I wasn’t replenishing my stock of tampons today. I’d die of embarrassment.
“What the hell happened?” I demand.
“Sorry, we thought the sidewalk was clear, and it was quicker and easier to just aim for the skip than to bring it all down by hand.” Gorgeous 1 sounds contrite and looks genuinely distressed by what has just happened. Good. They could have killed me, they should look sorry.
“That was a really dangerous and stupid thing to do.” I frown, unamused. He may be beautiful but that doesn’t let him off the hook for nearly killing me and my dog. Oh god, what if it had been a child?
“Your accent is cute. Are you British? Don’t you work next door?” number 2 asks.
Seriously, I can’t tell these guys apart. Both are tall, tanned, ripped to hell and shirtless. Wearing jeans, sexy-ass smirks and t-shirts in their back pockets, they’re mirror images of one another. They have matching smirks, dark smouldering eyes and short chocolate locks that are a tad longer on top. Just the right length for running my fingers through.
Damn, where did that thought come from? My cheeks flame and I’m sure they know exactly where my mind just went.
“You sure she didn’t hit her head?” number 2 asks number 1.