Witch Is The New Black (Paris, Texas Romance #3)

Still coming to grips with the fact that she now lived in a place where mythical creatures walked upright, she couldn’t deny Calla’s charm.


The werewolf was as nice as Winnie, and her patience went unmatched where the seniors of Hallow Moon Senior Center were concerned. They were a handful and a half of aging witches and warlocks, all capable of creating havoc given an opportunity, which was what had led Calla to open Hallow Moon. Giving the children of the troublemakers a modicum of peace while they worked.

And Calla was good with them. She could wrangle a fussy senior out of zapping others’ dentures from their mouths like nobody’s business.

Still, the week and a half she’d spent with them, wherein they’d welcomed her as if she belonged, had left Bernie falling a little more in love with them each day—whether she wanted to or not.

They’d given her a reason to get up in the morning, ever since Calla had requested she help organize their jaunts on the farm rather than muck the stalls.

And they loved Ridge, too. More than once she’d had to bite her tongue when Flora or Glenda-Jo had poked her to point out when Ridge was sweaty and shirtless—and for some reason, their reminders of his hotness stuck in her craw. But that hadn’t stopped her from stealing glances at him right along with the seniors.

“Bernie! Don’t you dare get on that bus before we finish our conversation!”

Ignoring Fee, she hightailed it inside the bus and smiled at the rows and rows of senior faces. “I think I’ll take you up on that. Thanks, Calla, and mornin’, campers!” she said to the group with a grin as she looked for a seat. A genuine grin. One she felt in her soul.

Clive Stillwater winked at her from the back of the bus and waved a weathered hand. “I gotta seat for ya right here, Saucy Pants.” He patted the cracked vinyl beside him with a lascivious cackle.

Bernie gave him a coy bat of her eyelashes as she made her way to the back of the bus. “Do I have to make you a sandwich in order to be worthy enough to sit in the hot seat, Mr. Stillwater?”

The bus broke out with raucous laughter as she took her seat, and Flora Watkins patted her on the shoulder with a warm hand of encouragement. “That’s right, Bernie. You give that sexist old bag o’ wind hell and tell ’em you’re saving yourself for Ridge!”

Ridge, Ridge and more Ridge. It shouldn’t surprise her after a week’s worth of batting eyelashes and breathy sighs, but it was sort of starting to annoy the shit out of her. There wasn’t a soul immune to the man’s charms.

But she was. And she wasn’t saving herself for anyone or anything except freedom.

Yeah.

More laughter ensued, erasing the probing questions Fee had for her and Ridge’s charms, replacing both with a new hint of belonging.



Gus settled his favorite horse, Gumby, in his stall. “Yer gettin’ better at this, good-lookin’,” he said with a wink and a nudge to her ribs as the horse chuffed.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Bernie smoothed her hands over her Laura Ingalls dress and gave him a skeptical look. “By ‘better’ do you mean he only tried to kick me once this time?”

Gus cupped Gumby’s muzzle, palming him a carrot and running his hands over the horse’s thick black mane. “He’s just a persnickety old coot, is all. In no time flat, you’ll have him eating out of the palm of your hand just like me and Orchid over there. Gumby can’t resist a pretty girl for long.”

Bernie chuckled and curtsied, splaying her ugly dress on either side of her like a fan. “Why, thank you, kind sir. But I think you’re the only match for Gumby.”

“You’re good with all the horses, not just Gumby. You have a gentle touch and they know it.”

If there was one thing Gus was right about, it was the horses. She’d loved them from the moment she’d been handed Orchid’s reigns and led her back into the barn for grooming and a good rubdown after her walk with the seniors.

As she’d stroked Orchid’s cheek, nuzzled her nose, fed her carrots, Bernie decided she could spend all her days with the horses and be content. She was growing attached to them, looked forward to seeing them each morning and at the end of each day.

“You’re a nice girl, Bernice Sutton. We like havin’ ya around, you know.”

Her cheeks flushed, making her dip her head to hide the bright spots. “We?”

“Yeah, we. Me and all the rest of the Depends Patrol.”

Her throat tightened as she looked down at the stray bits of hay littering the floor. No one had said those words to her in so long. She couldn’t even remember if her parents had ever said them. Mostly people were screaming ugly curses as they ran from the debris of whatever she’d taken out.

“I like all of you, too,” she whispered, her throat tight, her eyes burning with unshed tears. In only short amount of time, she really liked them. The seniors, the horses, Calla and Winnie—and whether she wanted to or not, Ridge.