Read Witch's Diary: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 4) for Free Online

shocking as you seem to. But the question remains—have you talked to the father?”
    She growled in frustration. Really? Someday they were having a chat about exactly how much Jack did and did not know about the magic-using community. She was pretty sure he’d been as ignorant as her just a few months ago.
    She sniffled then blew her nose. “No.”
    “Kenna.”
    “Could you sound slightly less disapproving? That is not a conversation I’m particularly excited about. Hell, I just found out myself.” She sniffed again and shot him a grumpy look. “Besides, you’re here to comfort me. Start comforting.”
    “I comforted. I gave you my emergency hanky specifically reserved for scoring with hot, distressed women, and I let you ruin my shirt with your soppy mascara. I’ve moved on to the next phase: problem-solving.” He headed in the direction of the kitchen. “You need a distraction, so why not one that will actually move you forward and out of this funk?”
    She trailed along behind him, his balled-up hanky clutched in her hand. He had a point. So annoying. “Oh—I have tea.” She brightened considerably at the thought.
    Turning the corner to the kitchen, she caught Jack pulling a beer from the fridge. He didn’t even look guilty.
    “What? You can’t drink it.” He closed the fridge and rummaged around in her spare utensil drawer for a bottle opener.
    She glared.
    “Oh—I’m supposed to suffer because you’re off the booze for a while?” He popped the cap off and took a drink. “Uh, no. So who’s the baby daddy?”
    “If you’re going to taunt me with your beer consumption, the least you can do is put the kettle on. I have a special tea.” He raised his eyebrows, so she explained. “Trust me, you want me to drink the tea. It makes me less crazy-pregnant-witch lady.”
    He set his beer down and hustled to fill the kettle.
    “Thanks—I think.” When he was done at the sink, she splashed some water on her face. Patting at a damp patch on her neck with a dishtowel, she said, “Really, baby daddy?”
    “He is your baby’s daddy. Who is this mystery man with the extra-potent sperm?”
    She filled a tea ball with some of her special tea, and dropped it in her favorite teapot. She wasn’t a big tea drinker, but Lizzie was, so she stayed stocked with a few of her favorites and had two cute teapots. Three pots a day, maybe seven months of pregnancy left. She groaned. Who knew they’d get so much use? She headed to the kitchen table with her teacup and saucer in hand.
    And she definitely ignored Jack’s question.
    “That tea smells like ass. Uh, no offense.” Jack grabbed the pot and followed her.
    “Hmm. It tastes like dirt. I’d offer you some, but I have no idea what pregnant-witch tea would do to a guy.” She sat down and wrapped her hands around the warm teacup.
    “You have no clue what’s in that stuff, do you?”
    “Nope, not a clue.” She stared at her tea.
    Jack sat down across the table from her. “Not to linger on an awkward question, but I don’t see you having drunken, unprotected sex with a handsome stranger.”
    “Is there a question in there somewhere?” she asked. When he raised an eyebrow in response, she caved. “Ugh. It’s Max. The father is Max.”
    “You’re telling me you had drunken, unprotected sex with Max?” Jack crossed his arms over his chest.
    “Don’t be an ass.” Kenna shook her head. “I am not having this conversation with you.”
    “Does that mean I’m breaking his fingers? Or a kneecap?”
    “If that’s your caveman way of asking me whether he broke my heart, the answer is no.” She couldn’t help a short, sharp, humorless laugh. “It’s not like that. Or if it is, you’re breaking my fingers, because I was the ditcher, not the ditchee. Pass on the broken fingers, by the way.” She winced at how she’d treated Max that first month after their…fling? Sexcapade? She wasn’t sure what exactly they’d had. “Max tried. I