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

The air began to tear at Bernie’s velour tracksuit, pulling the already loose pants down along her hips as the zipper on her matching jacket began to unzip itself—


And then Ridge was there, scooping her up and planting a delicious kiss on her lips before setting her back on the ground with a grin. “Sorry I’m late, Snuggle Puff, but one of the cows got out of that damned fence again and it was an all-out Amber Alert to find her. By the way, did I mention how hot you look in that tracksuit? Love it.”

The wind died down instantly, leaving Bernie glowering at him while her buttery limbs fought to hold her up.

But Ridge took her hand and kissed the back of it, sending a sweeping shiver along her spine. “Can you forgive me? Promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Bernie lifted one eyebrow in question, but okay. She was game. For whatever he was doing.

Thrusting out her lower lip, she pouted with a coy bat of her eyelashes, looking right through Violet and her shock. “Oh, my little Love Machine, you’re sooo good to me. You know what this means, don’t you?” she asked, swinging their entwined hands back and forth.

Now Ridge looked as confused as she felt. “Um, Project Runway marathon?”

Bernie let her head fall back on her shoulders as she laughed and shook her head. “No, Snookie-Wookie. It’s way better. Way.”

He lifted his chin, his eyes amusingly suspicious. “Narrow your definition of ‘better’.”

“Housewives marathon. Orange County to be precise.”

Ridge returned her pout, adorably so. “Aw, c’mon. If I have to listen to that OG of the OC Vicki screech woohoo and talk about her love tank being on empty, it just might drive me to drink, Smooshy Face,” he groaned, stepping around Violet as though she wasn’t there and pushing the glass door open for them.

“You said you’d make it up to me. It’s Housewives or drowning your sorrows—alone, I might add—in a bottle of vodka,” she teased back until they were safely inside and the door swept shut behind them.

He pulled her to a corner behind an enormous potted fica tree and grinned. “Love Machine?”

“Oh quiet. You caught me off guard with Snuggle Puff. I was improvising. And Snuggle Puff? Really?”

Ridge barked a laugh. “You saved me, you know.”

“From?”

“Violet’s man-eating clutches. I swear, that woman has eight arms, and the minute she sees me, I become prey.”

Unlike Bernie, who had only two arms and had used both to accost him in his barn. “She did say she was here for you…”

“I bet she did. But she said wrong,” he said, his response solid and quiet.

“Why are you here then?” Didn’t he have somewhere else he could be irresistible?

He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m here because I happen to like bingo. Good thing, too, or Violet was going to let you have it, judging from the spell she was conjuring.”

“She doesn’t like me much.”

“Yeah? Well, nobody likes her much. She can’t stand the seniors and hasn’t been ashamed to say as much.”

“You didn’t have to kiss me if you needed saving.”

“But I thought we were going steady now?”

Bernie’s head snapped upward, her mouth going dry. “Steady?”

He stuffed a hand in the pocket of his jeans and nodded. “Well, yeah. If you kiss me in my barn, it means we have to go steady.”

“Says who?”

“Legend says who.”

“What legend?”

“The one I’m going to make up so you’ll be convinced enough to be my steady?”

Bernie’s stomach nosedived. He was, of course, teasing her again. He’d never ask her to be his steady. “Steadies are overrated. They demand way too much of you, they always want to do couple things, and they call you ridiculous pet names like Snuggle Puff.”

“I can call you something else. What’s your preference?”

This was getting too intimate. Too much like flirting. Too. Much.

Realizing she was still holding his hand as if he belonged to her, Bernie pulled away from his grip. “Obviously, judging from the wind Violet was whipping up, you saved me, too. Thanks for that. Consider us even. Now I have to go call numbers for bingo.” Tucking her purse to her body, she waved as casually as her pounding heart would allow. “Catch ya later.”

As she made her way across the wide, shiny floor, George, Clive, and Gus, huddled at a table covered with bingo cards and a bowl of pretzels, snickered and catcalled. “Bernie’s got a boyfriend! Bernie’s got a boyfriend!”

Clive grabbed her hand and pinched the back of it with a chuckle. “I thought you were savin’ yourself for me, young lady?”

“Who says I’m not?” she teased back.

Clive bumped an age-spotted fist with her. “Woohoo! I like ’em sassy!”