I tear away, frantically batting at whatever just crawled onto me before I realize it’s oil—oil and soap from Ellis’ hand.
She turns quickly, hiding her face from me, and heads for the sink. She washes her hands while I get a paper towel and start cleaning up the mess. I go for my neck first, then tackle the countertop and floor. I don’t want any more mishaps, missteps, or catching Ellis with my lips, saving her from falling with my mouth, or ensuring she’s okay with my tongue.
She whips around as I’m cleaning up the last bit of oil off the countertop. I expect to find total disgust there, anger bordering on rage, a lecture waiting to happen, maybe even malice—hell, I hardly know her, but she seems tough—but instead, I only find confusion.
“Can we please not talk about that?”
“Right. Yes, of course. I’m—”
“No. I don’t want to go there. Don’t say sorry because it never happened, and it will never happen again, so there is nothing to apologize for.”
I throw the wad of oily paper towels into the trash beneath the sink. I can feel Ellis’ stare burning through my back the whole time, and when I turn, I have something logical to say, but something highly illogical comes out instead. “Maybe it was the ring.”
“What?” she yelps.
“It could have been. It could be making us do strange things.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, of course. It’s the curse in full motion.” A little bit of red starts crawling up her neck, just above the neckline of her t-shirt. “Can we just go, please? I want to get this thing off.”
“Yes, alright.” Am I seriously doing this?
What I should be doing is calling my brother and cousins and warning them that this curse we all made a pact to ignore might be real. Then, I should head over to my granny’s house and give her a piece of my mind for daring to meddle in our lives like this. She should know better than anyone that happily ever after is not a thing. All we ever really have is right now ever after. Everything else is just a bunch of bullshit because people suck, and they never get it right. She watched her two sons destroy their marriage and abandon their family, and she still dared to give us this haunted crap. My god, she has lady balls the size of grapefruits.
“Ash?” Ellis stops at the kitchen door, which I don’t think I’ve ever used before.
“What?” Her eyes are so big and frightened and pleading that it makes something in my chest get a little hairy. And no, it’s not chest hair. I take care of that with my razor, thank you very much.
“Please don’t mention the curse. If it’s real, let it not come for us.”
I lower my gaze to the blasted ring stuck on Ellis’ long, finely shaped finger on her sweet, delicate little hand. “Oh, I think it already has.”
CHAPTER 5
Ellis
“What about this one?” I stop in front of an admittedly touristy-looking place.
The shop is tiny with a striped awning over a window that has bold gold letters painted on the glass, announcing tarot and palm readings. I don’t wait for a response. I move up to the glass door, fling it open, and charge ahead. If I left it up to Mr. Asswell, I know he’d have us walking around all day, and honestly, I’m kind of in a hurry for someone to reassure me that everything is going to be okay.
Even if it’s all nonsense.
The smell of incense is so thick that it wraps around me like a coat the second I step foot inside. The little building has brick walls—at least someone knows better than to cover them up—and shelves lined with all sorts of items such as books on tarot, palmistry, self-help, and more. There are long tables underneath the shelves with rows and rows of crystals, a stand of jewelry, and incense you can purchase.
I kind of like the one the shop owner chose as it smells like cloves and cinnamon. Just thinking about her seems to summon her. She’s a tiny old woman with a shock of long bright pink hair who exits the back through a beaded curtain.
“Good morning,” she says happily. “I’m Ginny. Can I help you find anything?”
“I…yes. I…I mean we…we would like to have our cards read.”
Ash is still standing in the doorway, blocking a good deal of sunlight from coming through the glass door with his very fine…I mean, no. Not very fine body. More like his hulking, sulky form, especially since he has a perma-frown going on. However, my ovaries take note that he also has a heck of a lot of nice things going on, too, especially when wearing a tight black t-shirt and dark jeans that aren’t paint-stained. Although, I like the paint-stained get-up too. I think he could wear anything and look good.