Broomstick Breakdown

Chapter One

The magic powering her broom coughed and sputtered. Sophia held on tight as she lost altitude and weaved drunkenly through the night sky.

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” she muttered aloud. Apparently spelling a broom while frazzled and rushed had unwanted side effects. Like becoming intimately acquainted with the ground. Oops.

She fought with the roughening antics of her broom, its wooden handle jerking between her hands. As she cursed her bad luck in language not fit for human ears, she spotted the lights of a gas station easily visible in the dark and aimed herself at it for an emergency landing. She also prayed to the Dark Lord-“No road rash. No road rash.” She’d taken weeks to heal the raw patches the last time she’d crashed her broom. A natural broom flyer she was not, and she’d put in a request for the rare and popular Ali Baba book of spells. Somehow carpet flying sounded a lot safer than the traditional witchy method of travel.

The ground came up to meet her and with one last quick prayer, she used her feet to slow her momentum, stumbling several feet before she came to a halt on the pavement. I didn’t crash. Yay! Sophia swung off her broom and glared at it, the problem easily evident. Most of the bristles had fallen out, along with the magic that imbued them with flight.

Shoot. Now, how am I supposed to get to the All Hallows’ Eve Convention on time? She was still staring at her only means of transportation in consternation when a man came out of the garage and into the pool of light surrounding the gas pumps where she’d landed. He rubbed his hands on a rag, and the corded muscles of his arms gleamed with sweat even though the air was somewhat cool.

Any other time, she would have taken the time to admire the way the fabric of his dark T-shirt stretched across an impossibly wide chest and clearly delineated a mountainous amount of muscle. If her concern over being late had not overshadowed all thought, she would have also noticed the way his well-worn jeans clung snugly to his groin and thickly muscled thighs. Oh, who was she kidding, even in the midst of a calamity, she couldn’t help but notice how hot the mechanic was with his tanned skin, ruffled dark hair, and strutting walk. Any other time, she would have enjoyed playing the damsel in distress, a routine that involved the shedding of clothes and inhibitions, but she had an appointment to keep, and while lateness ran in her blood, the senior witches of her coven frowned-with rather unpleasant results-on junior witches who couldn’t show up on time.

Most people under the glare of fluorescent lights looked sickly. Not this babe, though. Vivid eyes peered at her from under dark brows, and the hunky stranger’s full lips twitched as he gave her the once-over, a look that made her nipples tighten in response and moisture soften her cleft.

As she cleared her throat and blushed under his frank perusal, she drew her plump self up, all of her five-foot two inches, and in a voice that emerged squeakier than intended said, “Um, hi there.” Although she might be a witch of questionable morals, a witty conversationalist she was not.

Brilliant white teeth gleamed as he grinned at her, and a deep dimple formed in his left cheek that sent her awakening libido into full sexual crush mode and dampened her panties even further. Damn, pity I can’t bottle him, because I’d make a fortune-after I’d enjoyed him first of course. Her dirty thoughts made her blush even deeper, and she thanked the Dark Lord that the man couldn’t read her mind even if her body seemed unable to stop betraying her.

“Hello.” His deep voice rumbled pleasantly, and Sophia fought an urge to shiver-and to throw herself at him, begging him to whisper naughty nothings with his sexy voice. She didn’t understand her body’s out-of-proportion reaction to this stud. Sure, he was hotter than molten lava, but since when did her hormones drool and scream at her to maul a stranger on sight? She usually required a drink and dinner first at the very least.

She ignored how her body tingled and vibrated and got straight to the point. “Do you have a broom I could borrow by any chance?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her, and one corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. “A broom? Feeling a sudden urge to clean?”

Sophia blushed again then remembered who she was. A witch, a junior one maybe, but a witch nevertheless, so he, a mere human, shouldn’t mock her. She straightened her spine and tried to adopt a chilly tone and face, not an easy task with her rounded cheeks and full lips. “Yes, I need a broom, if you please.”

With a look that said ‘Whatever you say, crazy lady,’ he went back into the open garage bay, and she found herself watching the hypnotic and enticing view of his ass in tight jeans as he strode out of sight. Sigh. He really was a nice male specimen. Maybe she’d make a detour on the way back.

A few moments later, he brought out a monstrosity of a broom, its wooden handle and wide brush head covered in grease and dirt. He held it out to her, and Sophia wrinkled her nose, not making a move to touch the filthy thing. “You know the purpose of a broom for most people is to clean, not create a bigger mess.”

“This is a garage. We don’t care if it’s clean. We just use it push the crap out of the way.” His tone and expression held a note of impatience, a feeling she found imbuing her as well.

“Well I can’t use that, that thing. Dammit, are there any stores around here that sell clean brooms?”

“Sure,” he drawled. “ ’Course they’re all closed at this hour.”

Frustration almost made steam pour from her ears, and it must have shown in her face, for he dropped his mocking attitude. “Listen, I don’t quite understand why you need a broom at this hour of night, but surely it can wait for morning. Now, why don’t you tell me where you left your car and I’ll walk you back to it.”

“I don’t have a car. Why the hell do you think I needed a broom?” she grumbled only when she realized that his face had creased in confusion because what she had said made no sense. To a human anyway.

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot as she nibbled her lower lip in an attempt to think of a solution to still make it to the coven meeting on time. She couldn’t afford to wait ’til morning when the stores opened. She’d started her trip late and would barely make it as it was. Broom flying, while allowing you to avoid obstacles and fly in a direct path, was very tiring and required frequent pit stops-at least she and her poor, aching ass did. Apparently a full bottom didn’t count for much on a stick only a few fingers wide.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?”

His question and solution to her current dilemma made Sophia mentally slap herself in the forehead, because, of course, she should have thought to ask the hunk if he had a vehicle. It made sense after all, given his occupation. However, she needed more than just a quick drive into town.

Lifting her chin, she smiled at him. “If you don’t mind, then, yes, I do need a lift.”

“Okay. Just give me a minute to close up and then you can tell me where to drop you off.”

How about the next state over? It was a good thing she’d learned the spells of forgetfulness and persuasion, for she’d need both before the next twenty-four hours were done. First to make him take her where she needed, then to forget he’d ever met her.

He closed up his shop quickly and came strutting toward her dangling a set of keys. He gestured to her with a tilt of his head and walked off to the side of the garage. She followed, once again admiring the view of his ass. She admired it so intently, her mind mentally x-raying the fabric of his jeans and wondering if he wore boxers or briefs, that she almost ran into him when he stopped abruptly. Catching herself, she looked up to see a monstrous truck in front of her. No, seriously, the thing even had a painted fresco with the word Monster emblazoned on its side. The truck sat high, high enough that she’d need a boost to get in, and it screamed, I never grew up. In other words, a total guy toy.

The mechanic-turned-chauffeur pulled open the passenger door and stood back to allow her to get in. She peered dubiously up at the highly perched seat and wondered if there was a graceful way to climb in. As if sensing her dilemma, he simply grabbed her about the waist and hoisted her into the cab of the truck as if she weighed less than a feather. Sophia squeaked, and he chuckled.

Before she could say a word, the door slammed shut. A moment later, he clambered into the driver seat and placed the key in the ignition. He turned to her before starting the engine.

“So where to Miss…” He trailed off enquiringly.

“Sophia.” Actually it was Sophia-Anne, but she’d shortened her name a long time ago.

“Nice to meet you, Sophia. I’m Aidan.”

Sophia shivered at the way he said her name. Damn, her hormones were in overdrive and in the confines of the truck cab, his heated presence and subtle scent-soap and man-intoxicated her, making her mind shy from the question and instead go straight into a fantasy of him dragging her onto his lap and using his mouth for something other than talking.

“So, where do you want me to drop you?” he repeated.

She snapped out of her erotic thoughts, hornier than ever, and froze, unsure of an answer, knowing if she told him the truth-I need you to drive with me for about eight hours or so, depending on traffic-he’d just laugh and ditch her, probably at the nearest insane asylum. She did, however, have a trick up her sleeve. A witchy one.

She’d made sure to learn the spell of persuasion before coming on this trip. The Witchcraft for Dummies book had highly recommended it and a spell of forgetfulness to those starting out in the craft in order to ease their way through a world not yet ready for the concept of witches and magic. At least they no longer had to worry about being burned at the stake, but, then again, being dissected by scientists wasn’t exactly a step up.

Taking a deep breath, Sophia recited the words to the spell of persuasion and imbued it with her innate power. With a flourish of her hands-and a mental apology for using him-she flung the invisible but magical result at him. Then she crossed her fingers, hoping she’d done it right.