Magical Midlife Love (Leveling Up #4) - K.F. Breene Page 0,44

am? It literally just led me to you with the lights.”

“It’s magical. Come now. Is that what you’re going to wear?”

The boy looked down at his jeans and T-shirt. “Yes. Should I put something else on?”

Mr. Tom held out the boy’s jacket. ”You’ll want this.”

“It’s a really nice day, though.”

“On the ground, yes. Up in the air where you’ll be, no. Come along.” Mr. Tom led the boy out of his room and down the hall.

“What’s with my mom and that alpha guy? She said they’re just friends, but they definitely don’t have a just-friends vibe.”

“Austin Steele is a solitary sort of man. He might have feelings for her, but he will not allow himself to act on them. He is very hardhearted in that way. Trust me, he’s been pursued by every woman in this town, young and old, resident and tourist. He very rarely goes on more than a couple of dates with any one person.”

“Has he taken my mom on a date?”

“Not romantically, no. They have a strictly platonic friendship.” Mr. Tom led the way down to the ground level as the front door swung open, not mentioning that the miss would need to play the field for a while. From what he’d always heard, female gargoyles typically treated men like hats for a long period of time. They picked them out, tried them on, put them back, changed them with outfits, borrowed them—what have you. Eventually she would find that perfect hat, and that was when the mating dance would begin.

Female gargoyles usually chose male gargoyles, from what Mr. Tom had understood. She chose the strongest alpha her kind could muster, someone to protect her better than she could protect herself, which was a tall order because of her power and magic. A shifter was just another hat, no matter how powerful Austin Steele was.

Then again, the Ivy House heirs in the past had chosen mages. Powerful mages who could certainly protect them, but who weren’t trustworthy. Those mages had eventually led to the heir’s demise, so clearly the heirs would’ve been better off sticking with their own species. The proof was in the pudding.

Austin Steele stood in his sweats, his power surging around him, raw and potent, filling up the front entryway and then some.

Usually he was better about keeping it contained, but now it pressed on Mr. Tom, a dominating force. Something had gotten his dander up. Probably the challenge in town that had made him late.

The breath went out of Master Jimmy, and he slowed, his eyes wide as he beheld Austin Steele.

“Yes, okay, you’ve made your point,” Mr. Tom said as the miss left her room upstairs. “You’re not in your territory anymore, though, Mr. Steele. It is time to rein it in.”

That ruthless blue gaze shocked into Mr. Tom, like a predator zeroing in on his pray. Mr. Tom’s small hairs stood on end, and he had a sudden impulse to change shape and protect his territory. But the alpha’s focus shifted upward to where the miss was just reaching the landing.

She stopped dead, her hand on the railing, her gaze rooted to Austin Steele’s. The air heated up around them, catching Mr. Tom and Master Jimmy in the crossfire, magic swirling, pressure building. Within their gazes, within their connection, something urgent and needy pulsed and boiled. Her cheeks flamed. His body tensed. Arousal bled through the muted link.

Oh, good, maybe the miss would finally try on a hat and reduce some of that sexual tension while she looked for her mate. It would help her calm down a little, which would help everyone.

Thirteen

I opened my eyes to the familiar face of Mr. Tom, someone I didn’t really feel like seeing at the moment. My heart hurt. Today was Sunday, the last day before Jimmy had to leave for who knew how long. At least we’d spent some really great quality time together, more so than any other time since he’d approached teen-hood. We’d taken hikes and hung out around the town; we’d had picnics and wandered through the woods. He was not only getting used to the idea of magic, it clearly made me more interesting to a nineteen-year-old boy. Win-win.

The only part of my plan that hadn’t worked out was the trip to see the basajaun. It hadn’t mattered much—rather than hitch a ride to the mountain with one of the gargoyles, Jimmy had ridden Niamh’s nightmare alicorn like a pony. We’d wandered the mountain, touching trees and brushing