Sympathetic Magic(14)

She must have gotten her mask more or less back in place, though, since Lucas didn’t seem to notice anything strange in her expression or tone. “That’s true,” he said. “I guess I just associate you McAllisters so much with this crazy little town that I forget you’ve spread out a good deal.”

“Not much of a choice there,” she replied. “As you might have noticed, there isn’t what you’d call much undeveloped land around here. We had to go somewhere.”

“Well, I shouldn’t really be one to talk. The Wilcox clan isn’t exactly confined to Flagstaff, either.”

The conversation wended its way to safer topics then, as they talked about the places they’d been and seen, and the work involved in keeping the nature of their families’ talents hidden from the outside world. Somewhere in the middle of that conversation, both their drinks ran out, and Lucas got up to fetch them another round. Margot wasn’t sure how good an idea that was, but since he’d managed to slip out of the booth and get halfway to the bar before she could summon the will to protest, she decided to let it go. After all, the drinks weren’t that strong. She felt barely swimmy. A second one shouldn’t be too much to handle.

A few more people had trickled in during the past quarter-hour or so, and she couldn’t help noticing how the women in the bar watched Lucas’ progress, some of their stares downright predatory. All right, if she allowed herself to look at him objectively, forget that he was a Wilcox, then yes, she had to admit that he was a very handsome man.

Oh, who are you kidding? she thought. He’s probably the best-looking man you’ve ever seen. Not that it really made much of a difference one way or another. So he was gorgeous. He was also severely off-limits.

Seemingly unaware of the way the women’s attention tracked him back to the booth, Lucas slid in next to Margot and set a fresh Jack and Coke in front of her. As he did so, several groups of people entered the room and headed straight for the bar.

“Looks like I made it back in the nick of time,” he remarked, raising his martini toward hers in a mock salute. “Is the dance over already?”

She never wore a watch, but Lucas’ was visible enough. Something slim and probably hideously expensive, although she didn’t know the brand. “Not at barely nine o’clock,” she replied after taking a quick glance at the time. “The band must be taking a break. I think some people come up here for a drink because it’s faster than waiting in line at the dance.”

“Makes sense.”

He drank, and since she didn’t know what else to do, Margot sipped at her J&C and barely avoided a wince. Damn. It tasted as if the bartender had reversed the ratio of Jack to Coke on this go-round. But she didn’t want to make a scene by sending it back, especially since she had a feeling Lucas would try to tease her about not holding her liquor if she protested that the drink was too strong. No, she’d just have to take very small sips and hope he wouldn’t notice that she was taking her time with this round.

Despite her caution, she could feel the whiskey hitting her, bringing with it a not entirely unpleasant sensation of lightheadedness. When was the last time she’d gotten tipsy? She honestly couldn’t remember. Not at Angela and Connor’s wedding. No, she’d been sober enough then, even though she’d wanted to blame her insanity in dancing with Lucas on being too drunk to know what she was doing. Unfortunately, a glass and a half of champagne wasn’t even enough to make her tipsy, let alone drunk.

Now, though….

She wished she’d asked him to bring her some water. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and wetting it too deeply with the concoction before her brought its own risks.

“…doing next Friday?”

“What?” she asked, blinking. Damn, once again she’d been off in the clouds and hadn’t heard what he said.

Lucas gave her a curious look, but only said, “Next week is the first Friday art walk in Sedona. I was asking if you were doing anything next Friday.”

The truthful answer was that no, she wasn’t doing anything at all…or at least nothing she hadn’t done thousands of times before. Puttering in the garden and maybe doing some sketches of the fall foliage, tidying the house, walking over Jerome to make sure all the subtle little illusions she’d set out were still there and doing their job of pointing the tourists and any other outsiders away from places the local witches didn’t want them going. It was a great way to keep in shape, that was for sure, hiking up and down all those steep, narrow streets. However, it certainly wasn’t anything she absolutely had to do that day.