Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

Despite her late night, Holly awoke early the next morning and showered, aching in all sorts of sexy places and already eager to see Connor. She almost felt high from unburdening her secret and the following multiple orgasms. The greatest perk of sharing her secret was that she no longer had to worry about Connor exposing her family to the world. He was leaving in a few weeks, but now that everything was in the open, she could relax and fully enjoy her time with him. Connor Grimm knew exactly what she was and what she was capable of, and he’d wanted her anyway.

It was enough to make her toes curl.

She blushed as she remembered all the ways he had made her toes curl the night before. She could barely wait for a repeat performance.

When she was dressed, she entered the kitchen for her first cup of coffee. Aunt Rose and Aunt Daisy were sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and drinking tea, both of them dressed in the same brand of fuzzy sweater but in different color combinations: one soft pink, one apple red.

Holly was dropping a frozen waffle in the toaster when Missy stumbled in, bleary-eyed and her hair a riotous red mane around her face. “Coffee … need coffee.” She blindly poured herself a cup and drank it black, hissing when it burned her tongue.

“Connor knows we’re Wickeds, and he’s promised not to expose us,” Holly blurted.

No one reacted.

“Um, hello? Did you not hear me?” Holly asked.

Missy took another sip and hissed again when the coffee burned her tongue a second time. “Old news. Winter told us last night.”

“That’s not fair!” Holly jabbed the toaster lever down. “She can’t go around sharing other people’s important information just because she can sometimes see the future. Does she also know Connor’s brother is arriving this morning?”

Aunt Rose lowered the sports section. “No, she hasn’t said anything about that.”

“Ooh yes!” Missy cried, reaching for the creamer. “Erikson is just as hot as his brother, and way more fun.”

“What makes you think that?” Holly asked indignantly. She’d watched Erikson on the show, and Missy wasn’t wrong about his looks. He was as tall and broad as his brother, but that was where the comparison ended. They each must’ve taken after a different parent, because where Connor had sexy mussed hair and granite eyes, Erikson was pure Viking, with blond hair and piercing blue eyes. It was true that on the show Connor was usually the more serious of the two, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fun. It meant, typically, that he was the oldest. From experience Holly knew being the oldest sibling came with certain responsibilities.

“It’s his lightning-quick smile and those crinkly blue eyes. You just know a guy like that knows how to play.”

Holly’s waffle popped, and she tossed it from hand to hand before nibbling on it without syrup. “Connor said he won’t tell his brother we’re Wickeds.”

Missy poured half the creamer in her mug. “That’s good.”

“Is it? Those two are as close as we are. It won’t feel right for him to keep a secret like that from his brother. The supernatural has been their whole life. For Connor to know something like this and not share it—it sort of feels like I’d be asking him to betray Erikson.”

“Did you ask him to keep it from his brother?” Aunt Daisy lowered the paper, which she read with the use of a magnifying glass, and peered at Holly.

“No. But I didn’t give him permission to tell him either. I didn’t want to do that until I talked it over with the rest of you.”

“Don’t do it,” Missy said promptly. She set her mug on the counter with a click. “Witches Be Bitches” was printed in pink cursive lettering on the ceramic. “Men suck and they can’t be trusted.”

Holly frowned. “That’s not true. There are good men out there, good people out there, and Connor is one of them. I know he would never share our secret with someone he didn’t trust.”

Aunt Daisy smiled, the paper crinkling as she lifted it again. “I’d say you answered your own question, Holly.”

She was right. Holly believed Connor Grimm’s word to be as reliable as the sun, which meant if Connor trusted Erikson to keep it quiet, she could too. “Thanks. Where’s Winter?”

Before anyone could answer, they heard the engine of a truck pulling to a short stop in front of the house, and two doors slammed. Holly exchanged a look with Missy and hurried to the front porch, opening it in time to see Winter stalk away from the passenger side of a rented pickup truck. A tall blond Viking of a man stood at the driver’s side door with his arms crossed over his chest as he glared after her. They were both covered head to toe in mud.

Connor stepped out of his trailer, the door slapping shut behind him. His eyes met Holly’s, and a secret acknowledgement of their night passed between them before his attention returned to what Holly presumed was his brother. “What the hell happened?” he demanded, jogging over.

Winter blazed toward the porch, her blue eyes flashing with fury and her shoulders stiff. “I need a shower,” she muttered, brushing past a stunned Holly and Missy and leaving muddy footprints in her wake.

They turned to gape at Erikson, whose expression was equally livid. Connor looked him up and down. A blob of mud dripped off his shirt and splattered onto his work boot. “There’s a hose behind the barn,” Connor said, unsuccessfully trying to smother a smile. “Welcome to Wicked Good Apples.”