Magical Midlife Invasion (Leveling Up 3)

Austin turned as Jess reemerged from the house in a flowing tent of a dress that blew against her side and outlined a shapely hip. He meant to turn away, his body tightening, but instead followed the outline to the swell of her full breast, unencumbered by a bra. A familiar ache overcame him as he watched her legs churn the fabric, sucking it into creases he’d dreamt of exploring. With his tongue.

He ripped his gaze away and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I’ll speak to Jess. Maybe it’s time to head up the mountain. That basajaun has a soft spot for her. I doubt it’ll lie.”

“Speak to me about what?” she said as she reached them.

“Visiting your hairy friend on his mountain. Maybe you can finally try your hand at scaring hikers.”

He earned a smile. “I’d be up for it. But we have to be back by dinner or my mother will pitch a fit.”

Austin looked back at the house, seeing Cedric jogging toward them, often late to the party, Earl not in tow. “No Earl?”

She rolled her eyes, resting her hand on his arm and nudging him toward the trees.

“No,” she said dryly, steering him deeper into the wood with the rest falling in behind them, Ulric and Jasper flanking the group. “He’s staying behind to, quote, make the parents more comfortable, unquote. What he’s really doing is protecting his interests. He doesn’t like that my mom is cooking and cleaning. It’s stressing him out. I think he is determined to wait on her whether she likes it or not. Unfortunately, she has the same end game with him. She’s about to go to the grocery store and Mr. Tom is trying to head her off. It’s warfare in there.”

“It’s funny,” Ulric said. “They are out-helping each other. Jessie’s mom doesn’t seem to notice the tiff, but Mr. Tom is getting more wound up by the second.”

“It’s only funny because it isn’t your mom and butler,” Jess said.

“This is true.”

She curled her hand around Austin’s arm. “This close enough?” She looked up at him as they walked, using her other hand to pull out the deep brown fabric covering her athletic frame. “You said to wear a muumuu, right?” She laughed, clearly delighted. “It’s actually a great idea for when we change. One piece of clothing, no stress.”

“That is a good idea,” Niamh said. “Have Earl order me one or two. Something other than brown, though. You look like a stack of turd.”

“No undies? For shame,” Ulric cried. “What has happened to your modesty?”

“You’ve all ruined me,” Jess replied, laughing.

Austin gritted his teeth, trying not to think about what was under that drab brown fabric.

He stopped, ripped off his shirt, and tossed it at Niamh to put in the sack. “Let’s get to it. We don’t want to be late for dinner.”SixPete sat on an overly hot blanket that unfortunately made his begonias sweat in the pretty comfortable, though a little stiff, armchair, watching a huge TV with crystal-clear clarity that hinted at the finer things in life. Amazing how a few more pixels meant all the difference at halftime.

He glanced at the wooden fireplace mantel, a pretty neat old-school carving that really lent some class to the place. Real craftsmanship had gone into that mantel; he could tell by the quality work and attention to detail. Unfortunately, that attention to detail was starting to wear on his grasp of reality.

He’d first checked it out last night, after sitting in this same chair. At the time, he’d thought the scene was of a mountain meadow with a sun, some trees, and a lone man carrying a spear, or maybe a woman with small tits. It had reminded him of those cave drawings in National Geographic. Obviously the carving had been a little more fleshed out—no stick figures—but the spear had definitely hearkened to more primitive times.

This morning, though, the scene was completely different. It showed a log cabin in a prairie-like setting with some kids sitting around the fire. There was no way he would’ve thought a log cabin in a prairie was like a cave painting—that just didn’t make sense. Why would cavemen envision a house when they lived in a cave? Either he’d had too much hooch last night, or he’d seen some other carving in the house and thought it was in this room.

The last was highly likely. They were everywhere, the carvings, in almost every downstairs room.

Except the same thing had happened in that front-facing sitting room last night, the one he’d sat in before moving to the TV room. He could have sworn the images had changed. It had started out as a grisly scene someone should’ve gotten fired over, and the next moment it was a high mountain tableau with a couple of blackbirds. Later…something else. He couldn’t remember what. It hadn’t been blackbirds, at any rate. He would’ve noticed. Blackbirds were a nuisance. He hated seeing them, even in wooden carvings.