The Accidental Familiar (Accidentally Paranormal Series Book 14) by Dakota Cassidy

business?” Nina asked, approaching the stranger as though she were approaching enemy lines.
    The man’s features were hidden in the shadows of the dull streetlamp, but his size was clear. Tall and well-muscled, every stitch of clothing he wore clung to his bulk like a second skin, enhancing his thick thighs and ripped arms.
    The moment Nina’s stance became menacing was the moment he held up his hand and, without a word, froze her right in place. The wind that had whistled like white noise in the background suddenly stopped, as did the leaves rushing against the sidewalk in a crinkle of rustling fall goodness.
    No one appeared all that surprised that Nina was instantly immobilized. So she tried to roll with her peers and behave as though a simple hand gesture freezing someone in their tracks was no big deal, but on the inside, Poppy McGuillicuddy was terrified speechless.
    She’d considered lots of things while they’d waited in line at Familiar Central. Like, spells and voodoo and all manner of Bewitched . She’d tried to recall all the shows and books she’d ever seen or read dealing with witches and magic, but nothing quite compared to actually seeing it happen.
    “I said, who are you?” the stranger demanded, moving around Nina’s unmoving form and closer to the group, his body language rigid and tense.
    “Oh, knock it the hell off with the fancy freezing spells, ya big galoot! Stop showing off and unfreeze the pain in my ass before I turn you into the prize cow at the 4-H fair,” Calamity ordered, rising on her hind legs.
    The man eyed them all, his icy stare enough to make Poppy visibly cringe, but Wanda kept her hands firmly planted on her shoulders in support and squeezed. “We’re here. We won’t let him hurt you,” she whispered, and somehow, that made everything okay—even with a freezing spell.
    “Do I know you?” he asked as he moved forward, eating up the sidewalk with long, purposeful strides.
    As his features become more defined, her eyes went wider. The man responsible for freezing poor Nina in place was an absolute hottie. Like, brick shithouse hot, hot, hot.
    The dark turtleneck and thick down vest he wore accented his even darker features. Eyes the color of a moonless night, evenly spaced and fringed heavily with thick dark lashes, assessed them all. Prominent cheekbones with a razor’s edge and a hard, square jaw enhanced his full-ish lips and bracketed his long straight nose.
    His skin was smooth and medium-toned with nary a blemish, putting his age at roughly thirty-five, if Poppy were to guess.
    When he asked again, “Do I know you?” the hard edge to his tone said he’d known trouble before, and he was prepared to handle any that crossed his path.
    “Ish,” Calamity responded with a calm Poppy definitely wasn’t feeling as she dropped back to her haunches and padded toward him on soft kitty feet. “Are you who I think you are?”
    “ Who do you think I am and why are you rooting around in my garbage?” he asked, locking gazes with Poppy.
    His glare made her stand taller, even though she was only five feet and one-half inch, if you didn’t count her six-inch platforms. Why he’d chosen her out of the pack of women to shoot his hateful stares at took her by surprise. But she squared her shoulders anyway and glared right back.
    She probably looked like an idiot doing it in her torn Paul Stanley leggings, afro wig, and big clunky platform boots, but whatever. Nobody intimidated Poppy McGuillicuddy. She might be tiny, but she was damn well mighty.
    Calamity sniffed the air around this delicious, if not possibly dangerous man and made a clucking noise in the back of her throat. “Yep. I think he’s our guy, girls.”
    “Ooo, lucky Poppy!” Marty chirped, patting her on the back in approval. “Nice coup, kiddo.”
    Planting his hands on lean hips encased in tighter-than-tight jeans, his eyebrow rose. Just one, but it was a perfectly groomed, raven-tipped one. “Your