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

He stared into her eyes, brushing his fingers through her hair. “You know, I’ve been back for six months now, and I almost can’t remember what Dallas was like. I don’t think I realized how much I missed farming, the small-town mentality, until I was forced to remember. So no. I don’t think I’m going back. Besides, it’s going to take a hundred years to get this place back up and running. Which leads us to you—if you go to Boston to look through your parents’ things, will you stay?”


The thought of going back to virtually nothing opened back up that hole in her chest again. “There’s nothing in Boston for me now. I have no family, no friends. I love Boston. I love the fall—the cooler weather. I love the Celtics, but I was also very isolated there. Now I’m here with people who are like me, and just that alone is huge. I like Paris. I love the seniors. I think it might be time for me to reconfigure my logistics.”

Grinning, he moved her paper plate of pizza and pulled her close to him again. “Wanna reconfigure together?”

“I think I might.”

“Then that’ll give us something to do while we get to know each other better. But first—do you really watch The Housewives?”

“And if I do?” she asked with mock outrage.

“I’m loaning you my DVR.”

Bernie giggled just before Ridge took her lips once more, and then she allowed herself to forget everything but his lovemaking.





Chapter 13



As walks of shame went, she was surely a strong contender for first runner up. It was three in the morning as she headed back to Winnie’s with a grin on her face, recalling the most amazing night she’d had in more years than she cared to remember.

“Bernieee, what are you doing? It is ze left onto Pecked Hen Lane. You make ze right! Turn around. You must turn around!”

Bernie refocused at Jacques’ urgent tone, realizing she’d made a wrong turn with her daydreaming. “Sorry, Jacques—I was distracted.”

“Oui-oui, Bernieee. You must stop zinking of zee handsome farmer and pay attention. Hands on ze wheel, eyes on ze road at all times!”

She chuckled at the green light of the GPS and nodded, pulling to the side of the dirt road. “Right. So where do I go from here?”

Where was “here”? She hadn’t spent a lot of time on the back roads that led to several farms neighboring Ridge’s and Nash’s, but this didn’t even look like the same landscape.

“You must turn around, and turn back onto ze Pecked Hen Lane, Bernieee.”

“Got it, turning around.” She tried to put the Pacer in reverse, but the gear wouldn’t budge. “What the hell?”

“Bernieee, you must turn around now! Please do as Jacques says and turn around!”

She reached out to the GPS, running her fingers over the buttons to soothe him. “Calm down, Jacques. I’d turn around if I could get the car in gear, but it won’t budge. I haven’t been able to afford a cell phone yet, so I can’t call. Also, I’m sort of just learning the transportation spells, so I’m not sure I can manage zapping us back to Winnie’s without taking out a few houses. So just relax. I’m going to figure out where we are and walk back to Winnie’s to get help. You wait here, okay?”

“No-no, Bernieee! Please, you must stay in ze car. Please do not exit ze vehicle!”

Bernie rolled her eyes—was every talking device and animal in the witch world so damn dramatic? “I’ve walked to Winnie’s a million times, Jacques, it’ll be fine. Now sit tight.”

She popped the door open to the tune of Jacques’ protests and climbed out, unable to get her bearings as she looked around.

Where the hell was she? Surveying the landscape, she tried to squint into the dark. The stars had suddenly disappeared, making the horizon look like a black hole.

Huh.

“Bernie?”

She whipped around at the voice, calling her from the deep velvet of the night.

A chill skittered up her spine as the form attached to the voice pushed its way out of the night like an entity seeping from fabric. “Who are you?”

“It’s Doris, Bernie. You remember me, right?”

Her stomach dropped to her toes as the pretty blonde spilled out of the darkness and approached her. “What are you doing here, Doris? And where have you been?”

As Doris’ curvy body grew clearer, Bernie began to back away, bumping into the car’s front end. Maybe she should try to zap herself out of here. But she was struggling to remember the spell.

“I’m here to talk to you—about Eddie,” she said, her sugary-sweet tone sitting wrong in Bernie’s ears.

She lifted her chin. “Fuck Eddie.”

Doris giggled, the sound echoing around her head. “Yeahhhh. Did that.”

Point for Doris. “So what does that have to do with me? Why would you be here? To brag about the notch on your belt?”

Doris moved in closer, her face looming in front of Bernie’s. “It has everything to do with you, Bernie.”

Rather than fearful, now she was just plain annoyed that Doris was intruding on her perfectly awesome end of an evening. “Go back to Boston, Doris. I don’t give a rat’s ass about Eddie anymore. He let me rot in a prison cell for ten months. I have nothing to talk to you about.” As she turned to get back into the car, Doris grabbed her arm.