Fake Dating a Witch

Chapter 2

SIRONA

The crowd at Brewitches Bar and Grill is hopping, as it is most Friday nights, as Evan and I sit at a small table. He”s got a cheeseburger, me a loaded grilled cheese, and we”re sharing fried cheese curds. We each have a pint of beer from the local microbrewery, Witches Brew.

Thanks to my family and the witch community we”ve drawn, Owl Cove has a definite witch vibe. We”re only about fifteen percent of the local population, but with Goode Witches being such a big corporation, employing witches and nullas alike—nullas being people with no magical or witch powers—our presence is felt.

”How was your day?” I ask Evan, then take a sip of my lager.

We”ve been friends since we were little. Since nulla kids outnumbered witches at school, even being ultra wealthy didn”t stop kids from labeling me too weird to hang out with. Evan was one of the few who didn”t care. He and my cousin Honey were pretty much my only friends growing up. And my two younger sisters, but they were as much my least favorite people as they were my most, growing up. Now I adore Morrigan, who goes by Morgan, and Bronwen. But sisters will be sisters, so we had conflict growing up.

”OK,” Evan says. ”Having some issues with one of the coders, so I”m trying to figure out what to do with that.” He works for the other big company in town, OmniGenTech, a biotech firm. I”m not totally clear on what he does; something with computers.

We chat more as we eat, me trying to help him troubleshoot his personnel issue. Something I”m very familiar with.

As we talk, even as I”m engaged in the conversation, my mind keeps drifting to Grant. To the zinging sensations I felt all through my body when I did his pain spell. I”m used to feeling some energy kickback, but never like that. My whole body was humming when usually it”s just my hand or maybe my arm.

There”s powerful energy between us, and I”m not sure what it means. Bronwen is the love and relationship witch in the family, but I”m not asking her. She”ll tease me relentlessly. And beg me to fall in love with him because of the dumb curse.

Technically, it is her fault. But also mine. I”m the oldest. I should have stopped our shenanigans.

”What about you? Any interesting cases?”

Before I can think better of it, I say, ”Someone from high school came in.” I can”t say who. While we aren”t medical doctors and governed by HIPAA and other medical privacy laws, we do have a code of ethics that includes confidentiality.

”Was it Grant Humphries?” Evan asks, his expression nearly a smirk.

How did he guess that? My cheeks heat, and I know I”m blushing, confirming his guess.

”I”ve seen him around, and I know he hurt his hand. My aunt and his mom are in the same bunko group,” Evan explains before I have to ask the question. That”s the nice part of having lifelong friends.

”I shouldn”t really answer that,” I say, not meeting his eyes.

”You don”t have to. Your expression says everything.” Now he is smirking, and I stick my tongue out at him because I”m mature like that.

He laughs and waggles his eyebrows. ”Can you date a patient? Hand him off to a different practitioner so you can date him?”

Strictly speaking, if I keep seeing him as a healing provider, I shouldn”t date him. But our ethics code isn”t super clear on where the line is. If I see him just the one time, I probably could go out with him.

Not that I”m planning to ask him out. I can”t ask my old high school crush on a date. Not when he”s grown up to be so damn sexy. And successful. He”s a damn surgeon.

I mean, I”m clearly successful too. And I know I”m pretty. But thinking back to our dynamic in high school, me the wide-eyed, weird sophomore with a crush on the hot, popular senior, it would be awkward.

”Maybe he”s the one who can break the spell,” Evan suggests as he pops a cheese curd in his mouth.

I make a goofy face to say I disagree with him.

And look up to see Grant walking through the room toward us.

Our gazes snag. While I”m still making the goofy face. Because of course.

He’s wearing glasses tonight, so I can only assume he had in contacts when he came to my office earlier. The thick black frames look entirely too good on him.

I rearrange my expression into a welcoming smile. ”Grant, hey. Nice to see you again.”

Evan twists to see him, and Grant”s gorgeous face breaks into a giant smile that makes my insides feel warm. I love his smile so much. And the facial hair only enhances it.

I stop myself before I start thinking about how kissable his smile is. ”You”re welcome to join us.” I nod to the empty chair at our table.

”Thanks.” He pulls it out and sits. ”Tyler is supposed to be here soon, but I can sit for a minute.”

”Good to see you, man,” Evan says.

”You too.” Before Evan can reach out for a handshake, Grant holds his good hand up for a fist bump. Evan looks mildly surprised as he bumps back.

”What are you guys up to?” Grant asks, looking directly at me.

Our gazes meet again, and I feel that same tingly energy I felt in my office. There”s something between us, an attraction at least. I don”t believe in love at first sight, and that”s effectively what this would be, since he clearly wasn”t in love with me in high school.

Not that this feels like I”m in love with him. Just lust. I could take him home, strip him naked, and lick every inch of his skin and be a very happy woman.

Now I”ve gone and turned myself on and I have to focus on evening out my breathing. And I definitely forgot the question.

I glance over at Evan, but he”s just giving me a knowing look. Shut up, I mentally tell him. Not that I have the kind of psychic powers that could put the thought into his head. And he”s not a witch anyway. But I know he knows I”m thinking it.

Grant looks down at my mostly eaten sandwich. ”Dinner?”

I blink, forcing my brain back to the present. ”Yes, dinner. It”s a common Friday ritual.”

Grant glances at Evan, then back at me. I can feel the question in his gaze and I”m quick to say, ”Since we”ve been friends since second grade.”

It”s awkward, and I cringe inwardly. But for whatever reason, I don”t want Grant to get the impression Evan and I are dating. I love Evan dearly, but I”ve never felt the slightest bit of attraction to him.

Besides, he”s been in love with Bronwen for years. He was heartbroken a couple years ago when she got pregnant with some other guy”s kid. Fortunately, that asshole didn”t stick around long enough to see Sabrina born. They”re better off without him. She doesn”t need his money, and there”s plenty of family to help her take care of my niece.

The corner of Grant”s mouth twitches, like he might be about to smile, but he doesn”t. He just nods, his gaze still steady on mine. It”s like Evan isn”t even here.

”Oh, hey, there”s Tyler,” Evan says, breaking the connection between me and Grant.

Grant blinks hard, then looks toward the door, where Tyler Chambers is walking toward us. It”s a small town, so I vaguely know him. But we”ve never spent much time together. Like Grant, he was two years ahead of me at school and never paid attention to me.

”Guess I better get going.” This, again, is said only to me and not Evan.

”It was good to see you.” My voice is annoyingly breathless.

”You too, Sirona.” The way he says my name is a caress whispering over my skin, and I have to force myself not to shiver. He flashes a sexy smile before walking away.

There”s a long pause, then Evan says, ”So that was interesting.”

I pick up the last bit of my sandwich. ”How so?”

”You need to date him. He”s so clearly into you, and I know you well enough to know it”s mutual.”

Am I attracted to him? Yes. Do I want to take him home and do delicious and debauched things to his body? Hell yes. But do I want to date him? I hate dating. It”s such an awful process.

Evan reaches over and puts his hand on my wrist. ”What if he”s the one?”

”What one?”

”The one you fall in love with and break the curse.”

The curse. Always with the damn curse.

When we were kids, my sisters and I cast a spell, making it so that I had to fall in love first, before either of them can. It was supposed to be a silly little thing. Bronwen, the love witch, was only eleven and shouldn”t have been able to cast any spell that powerful or binding. I figured a puppy love crush, like I had on Grant, would be enough to break it and we”d move on.

Except something went wrong. Bronwen accidentally summoned powers we had no business playing with. And now we are well and truly cursed, so that my sisters have to see me fall in love for real before they can let go of their own curses and fall in love.

My mom and aunts and grandma tried for years to find a way to reverse the spell, but nothing ever worked. Nana even tried appealing directly to Bronwen, the love goddess for whom my sister is named, but she didn”t respond to Nana”s entreaty. The deities often ignore our attempts at communication.

”I don”t think Grant is the one to break the curse,” I say to Evan. I might enjoy breaking other things with him, like my months-long dry spell. Maybe some bedsprings. But that”s it.

His hand on my wrist tightens a little. ”Please, Sirona. Can”t you at least try? For me? How is Bronwen ever going to notice me if she”s literally incapable of falling in love?”

My first instinct is to tell him to move on and get over my sister. But I know he”s tried that. He even moved to Milwaukee for a few years, hoping the distance would help.

It didn”t.

”I mean, you could at least get some hot sex out of it. He clearly wants that.” Evan takes his hand back and lifts his pint glass to his mouth.

”I could use that,” I concede.

He raises his eyebrows. ”So?”

I close my eyes. ”I”ll think about it. For you. For Bronwen and Morgan.” For my grandmother, who relentlessly pesters me to find a partner.

When I open my eyes again, he has a sour expression on his face. ”For you too. You deserve to fall in love and live happily ever after as much as the rest of us do.”

”I know. I just...” I can”t explain why, but I don”t trust love. Family love, definitely. Friendship love, absolutely. But romantic love? I just don”t have any examples in my life of love partnerships that last. My grandma”s a widow, since my grandpa died when I was ten. My dad died before my mom even knew she was pregnant with Bronwen. One of my mom”s sisters is also a widow, the other divorced from a deadbeat dad. And we don’t know about Aunt Diane. She disappeared years ago.

And even without curses on them, none of my seven cousins are in relationships. Evan has never seriously dated, since he”s been hung up on Bronwen since we moved back to Owl Cove after college.

And I”m content with my life. I want kids someday, but my sister is proof you don”t need a husband for that. Hell, I”m not even sure I want to end up with a man, if I end up with anyone. My mom and aunts and grandma are all perfectly happy without partners.

But for Evan, and for Bronwen and Morgan, maybe it”s time to try.

SIRONA

After dinner, Evan and I walk out together. It”s a cool May evening, but with an undercurrent of spring warmth in the air. It”s honestly my favorite weather. It”s a little after seven, so the sun still hangs low in the sky. I won”t need my light while biking home.

”You still want to watch the Brewers game on Sunday at my place?” Evan asks as we walk down the sidewalk.

Main Street in Owl Cove is cute and welcoming, with all the businesses on one side of the street. The other side is Wildflower Park, along the shore of Wildflower Lake. It”s picturesque and, in my opinion, nearly perfect.

Evan is a baseball fan, having played in high school. Every Sunday during baseball season, he invites people over to watch the game. I”m less of a fan of the sport, but I do sometimes go for the company. This weekend, however, I kind of want to hermit.

”I”ll see,” I say. ”But I”m feeling kind of antisocial.”

He nods, but I can sense his disappointment. He probably just wants me to make the artichoke and spinach dip I always conjure up. I”m not great at conjuring amazing food, but I”ve gotten really good at that one particular dip.

The chips I get from the grocery store.

We reach the parking lot and stop. He turns to face me. ”Promise you”ll think about going out with Grant?”

Holding in a sigh, I nod. ”I promise.” For my sisters. For my best friend.

I suppose for me too. At least I”m relatively certain, given the energy between us, that the sex would be good.

”Night, then.” He leans in and kisses my cheek.

I squeeze his shoulder, then step back. ”I”ll text you later. After I”ve thought about it.” With a playful wink, I jog across the street to the bike rack at the edge of the park.

I vastly prefer biking to cars, if at all possible. Living in Wisconsin, winter forces me to use a car part of the year. But I”d rather bike in a raincoat in the rain than drive. I can easily conjure an umbrella to go with me.

There”s just something about biking that appeals to me. I can”t explain it. Maybe it”s that I feel a little closer to nature, to Mother Nature and the deities. Maybe it”s because I know I”m not polluting the Earth more than necessary. Maybe I just find it calming.

I unlock the bike, a gorgeous purple tricycle with extra cushioning on the seat, and a wicker basket on the front that”s been made into a bed for Koko, my cat and familiar. On the back, between the two wheels, is a larger basket for when I need to carry things.

Tonight I just have my small purse, big enough to hold my wallet, phone, earbuds, and work ID badge. Since I don”t have Koko, I put it on top of her cushion and climb on the bike.

Our family owns several acres, starting about a mile out of town. Nana”s house is on top of the hill, the big old house where my mom and her three younger sisters, Diana, Betsy and Sarah, grew up. Then mom, Betsy, and Sarah each got two acres on which to build their houses. Diana did too, but since she took her family and disappeared, that’s been torn down and is now the site of my cousin Garnet’s house.

My cousins, sisters, and I all grew up in the houses our moms built. And now, past my mom and aunts, my cousins, sisters, and I all have our own acre of land and the houses we”ve built.

I pop in my earbuds, put on Celestial Alchemy, and steer the bike toward the county road that leads out to Goode Estate. It sounds pretentious, but it”s not like it”s just one big house. It”s all our houses.

As I ride, I can see the sun sinking down the sky to my left, beyond the houses, then open land. On my right is Wildflower Forest. Eventually the forest crosses the road and I”m biking through the thick of it. It”s dim enough that I turn on my bright headlight. I know my way, but I want cars to spot me easily.

As I bike, my thoughts inevitably drift to Grant. To what Evan wants.

I have this theory that”s been developing as I”ve researched the spell Bronwen used. I”m almost positive I don”t have to actually feel the emotion of true love. I mean, what if I never even can? How awful would that be for my sisters?

No, the more I read and think, the more I”m certain that Morgan and Bronwen just have to think I”m in love. Their certainty that I have tested the waters before them should be enough to break the curse and free them.

I”ve had the theory for a while now, but had no idea what to do with it. I don”t want to date some guy and pretend to be in love, and then make him think I”m in love with him too. That wouldn”t be fair.

But what if I could convince Grant, who I”m pretty sure would go out with me, to pretend to be my boyfriend? What if we pretend to fall in love? We can pretend to date, convince my family we”re in love, and break the curse. All without me actually having to fall in love. Bonus, it would get Nana off my case.

Because let”s be honest. I”m less than a month shy of thirty-one, and I”ve never come close to feeling what I”d define as more than affection with sexual attraction. What if I never fall in love? What if my sisters stay cursed because of me? I can”t let that happen.

Now I just have to think of a reason this would benefit Grant.

The faster my thoughts spin, the faster my legs pedal, and in record time, I”m pulling into the driveway of my three-story purple Victorian house.

Koko is on the wrap-around porch, lying at the top of the steps, licking her paws.

As I walk up the front path, she looks at me.

You”re home late.

”Dinner ran long. Evan wants me to think about dating someone.”

Who?She looks up at me as I sit on the top step next to her.

Scratching her ears, I explain my day to her, from Grant coming to see me, to him coming to the restaurant, to Evan practically begging me to date Grant.

Quite the day. There”s no small amount of bemusement in her voice. Not that she speaks out loud. Witches can”t talk to all animals—well, a few can—but we hear our familiar”s thoughts. It”s one of the ways we know a specific animal is our familiar. I actually have seven cats running around my property, who come through the cat door and eat my cat food and sleep in my house when they want. But I can only communicate with Koko.

She was just a kitten when Bronwen”s spell went wrong, so I”ve been cursed basically her whole life. She”s intimately familiar with the frustrations it”s caused me. And my family.

I end with telling Koko my idea that if Grant and I can convincingly pretend to be in love, I think we can break the curse. ”I mean, I know Nana and Mom and my aunts have tried, but they never thought of this. And she was eleven, for deity”s sake. It has to be kind of easy to break. Just not the ways they all tried. I know they didn”t think of this.”

Koko looks skeptical. Her sleek black fur is gleaming in the porch light, and for a moment she looks ethereal. I stroke my hand over her head and rub her neck a little in the way I know she loves. She”s sixteen now, and who knows how much time I have left with her. I”ll miss her ridiculously when she”s gone, even though the deities will gift me another familiar.

She leans into my scratches. If you think it might work, I suppose it”s worth trying.

”Exactly. The worst that happens is nothing.”

So let”s go.

”Now?”

Why not? I”m not getting any younger.