Chapter 3
GRANT
It”s a gorgeous night to sit outside and have a beer as I watch the light dissipate. My cabin faces east, so most mornings I bring my coffee outside and watch the sunrise. In the evening, I simply watch the sky go gray, then black.
I”ve been on edge all evening. Antsy. My mom and my sister called to check on me, like they do nearly every day. I can’t stand the pity in their voices that’s evident no matter how much they try to hide it.
I know the other part of it is disappointment that Sirona can”t fix my hand. I don”t think I fully expected she could, but I hoped. Tyler had been so encouraging. And my brother-in-law, Hank, is a witch, and he”d been pretty sure she could at least help.
Which I suppose she did. Hank”s powers aren”t as strong as Sirona”s, so he”s able to occasionally enchant a crystal so it eases some of the pain. But Sirona”s spell was much more effective.
Which reminds me, I should put on some of the salve. My hand doesn”t hurt yet, exactly, but it doesn”t not hurt. A state I never would have believed possible before my accident.
What if I can never?—
I jump up from my Adirondack chair before the thought can complete. Leaving my beer on the arm of the chair, I head inside to get the salve.
I wish I could get a dog. A golden retriever or a hound would feel natural here. But I”d have to bring it back and forth to Chicago, and my condo in the city isn”t set up for a dog. Plus, when I”m not on leave, I work long hours. I”m at the hospital way more than I”m home. I don”t live a dog lifestyle.
Doesn”t mean I don”t want one, though.
I left the salve on the coffee table, so I drop down onto the forest green couch to rub it on. The thick cream shimmers and tingles a little as I rub it over my swollen, scarred hand.
The hand that used to be so nimble. So dexterous. So?—
Again, I shove to my feet to cut off my thoughts. Going down a doom spiral about my hand is somewhere I”ve been too many times in the past seven months, and I avoid it as much as possible.
I have to believe my hand will get better. This next surgery will get the bones and ligaments and tendons and nerves where they all belong, I”ll regain feeling in my two fingertips, and with some physical therapy, I”ll regain my full mobility and surgical precision.
It”s going to happen. It has to, because if it doesn”t, I don”t know what I”ll do. I decided to be a surgeon in tenth grade. Picked hand surgery my second year of college. I”ve been on this path too long to do anything else.
I”m not old. Only thirty-two. But some days I feel like it”s been a lot longer. Decades. I was going to apply for a fellowship in New Zealand after my trip. But that”s on hold. Everything”s on fucking hold.
I head back to the porch and settle in again with my beer. Staring at the trees surrounding me, the trees of Wildflower Forest, I clear my head and focus on my breathing. This cabin in the woods is my escape from city life. My sanctuary.
Slowly, my mind drifts to Sirona. It zeroes in on those adorable freckles sprinkled over her nose and the way her green eyes focus so intently on me when we”re talking. She makes me feel important. Interesting.
I glance at my phone. I could text her. Ask her to dinner tomorrow night. We could go to the Stonehenge Inn, which isn”t fancy, but it”s upscale for Owl Cove. If I”m really lucky, maybe she”ll let me kiss her.
I sink into a fantasy of kissing her sexy mouth. Of cupping her face with my good hand as she opens to me. My whole body tingles as if I”ve rubbed the salve all over my skin.
The sound of bike tires on gravel reluctantly pulls me out of my imaginings. I look toward my gravel driveway to see Sirona herself, as if I”d conjured her.
Can she conjure people like that? Or could she sense I was thinking about her?
She”s still wearing the same outfit she had on at work and at Brewitches. Wide black pants that almost look like a skirt and a flowy white top with short sleeves to show off toned arms. She has a purple tricycle with a small basket at the front and a large one on the back. And there”s a black cat lying in the small basket.
”Hey, Grant.” She slides off the bike and bends to take off whatever straps she put around her ankles to keep her pants from catching in the chain. When she straightens, she gives me a small wave and giant smile that makes my lips tingle.
How did I not notice her in high school? Because now, I want her. Bad.
The cat jumps out of the basket and follows her as she ascends my porch stairs. I stand to greet her.
”Hey. What”s up?” I”m thrilled she stopped by, but also confused. Or maybe curious.
”This is Koko.” She gestures to the cat, who stares up at me with what feels like disapproving eyes. ”She”s my familiar.”
Hank has a familiar, a rabbit that”s especially bonded to him, so I”m familiar—hehe, familiar—with the concept.
I nod at the cat. ”Koko. Nice to meet you. I”m Grant. I went to high school with your... Mom?” I give Sirona a questioning look. ”Mistress?”
”She prefers ”her human”.” Her expression is that of a fond but amused parent.
”Fair enough. With your human, Koko.”
The cat looks up at Sirona.
”She says you seem passable for a human.” Sirona chuckles.
It startles a laugh out of me too. I”ve never had a cat, but I know Sirona grew up with several. She would tell me about them sometimes when we did the musical together.
There”s an awkward moment where I don”t know what to say. I go with, ”You want a beer? I”ve got lager and ale. You were drinking lager before, right?”
She smiles, seeming pleased that I noticed. ”Just water, if that”s OK. One beer is my limit most nights.”
I quickly get a glass of water for her, and we sit down together.
”So, what brings you by on this lovely night?” Her top isn”t revealing, but it”s sheer enough to have my imagination in high gear about what lies beneath as it drapes over the curves of her breasts. It”s a V-neck and just barely hints at her cleavage.
My thoughts as I look at her are so lusty, I”m a little surprised. It isn”t like me to be this attracted to a woman I just met. Or just re-met after fifteen years.
Before she answers, I say, ”Random question.”
”Yeah?”
”Can you, like, read people”s minds?” That would not be good. It wouldn”t be the worst thing for her to know I”m into her, but she doesn”t need the specifics. ”Or sense their emotions or something?”
She grins. ”No. Why, you having dirty thoughts about someone?”
My face heats, but I shake my head. ”No, nothing like that. Just curious.” And relieved.
After a long moment of silence, I say, ”OK, I know you didn”t come over just to have a glass of water. So, what”s the real reason?”
Her smile falters. ”It”s, um. It might sound a little weird, but I have a proposition for you.”
My immediate thought is I”m getting laid. But then it occurs to me that she probably wouldn”t bring her cat with her for sex. I hope not, anyway.
”OK.” I try to keep my voice neutral.
”I want to ask if—” She looks over at Koko, who is curled up at the top of the porch stairs. ”Yes, I”m getting on with it.”
With a hesitant smile, she looks back at me. ”Sorry, Koko likes to interrupt.”
”That’s wild you can talk to the cat and she understands you.” Hank never told me that.
”Yep. And her thoughts just sort of appear in my head.”
Whoa. My mind is a little blown. ”That”s really cool. Is it all animals?”
”Just our familiars.”
Despite living in a town with so many witches, I never really hung out with any growing up. There was a very distinct us-versus-them dynamic in school. So there”s a lot I don”t know about witchcraft. And suddenly, I”m very curious to learn more.
Not from my brother-in-law. But I keep my questions to myself for now so she can answer the one I did voice.
”Anyway.” She sucks in a breath and squares her shoulders. ”I think it would be mutually beneficial for us to pretend to date.”
I stare at her for a minute, certain I misheard her. She doesn”t want to go on a date, she wants to pretend to go on a date? How does that work?
”Not, like, go out once. But pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend. Pretend we”re falling in love.” She stares at her glass of water. ”And it”s really important that my sisters believe we”ve fallen in love.”
My mind is spinning, not sure which part of this proposition to land on. How does fake dating even work? Isn”t that just something people do in romantic comedies? Real people don”t pretend to date. Do they?
I certainly wouldn”t have an issue pretending to be into Sirona. I am already. And I was in two plays every year for all of high school, so I can act at least somewhat convincingly.
But convince her sisters we”re in love? They”re, like, supernaturally close. Won”t Morgan and Bronwen be able to tell?
And it all begs the question. ”Why?”
”When we were young, we cast this spell. Morgan”s boyfriend had just dumped her in a particularly cruel way, and she wanted to swear off love forever at the age of thirteen. So I said we could cast a little spell so that I had to try out love first, before either of them would fall in love.”
She traces her finger over the condensation on her glass. Her nails are painted black, her fingers long and elegant. I find it undeniably sexy.
Condensation. I find condensation sexy.
”It was supposed to be a little thing, like I”d have a crush on a boy and the puppy love would be enough to fulfill the spell and my sisters would be good.”
I can guess where this is going. ”Something went wrong.”
She finally meets my gaze, and her green eyes are imploring. ”Something went very wrong. It”s basically a curse at this point. And my sisters are incapable of falling in love unless they believe I”ve done it first.”
I take a pull on my beer and let her story sink in. A curse. Love spells. This is so far out of my league. I”m a doctor. A man of science. Sure, I grew up knowing witchcraft and magic are real. But it”s never been quite so real as it feels in this moment.
”What do I get out of this?” I ask. ”You said it was mutually beneficial.”
”You said you don”t want to go to the reunion without a job and seeming so down on your luck.”
The reminder is a light stab in the gut, but she”s not wrong. I did say that. ”So you come to the reunion with me, and I pretend to fall in love with you?”
She nods.
”Seems kind of lopsided.” I want her, but I also have things to do with my time other than going on pretend dates and fooling a few women. I have...well, I have hiking. And hanging out with Tyler. And...
Fuck. I really don”t have much going on in my life. And it”s pathetic. At least pretend-dating Sirona would get my ass out of the house. And maybe my mom and sister would stop calling me, talking in that pitying voice, making me feel pathetic.
Plus, I like spending time with her. I like the way my insides feel hopeful and expectant when she”s around. She”s funny and smart and easy to talk to.
If I”m seen dating her, people will think my life is starting to turn around. I know there”s gossip about me, the success story who”s now crawled back home, tail between his legs. Which will only be one chapter of my story, dammit. I”ll get back to my goals.
In the meantime, ”I need one more thing from you.”
She cocks her head to the side, then says, ”Be good, Koko.”
”What did she say?”
Sirona shakes her head. ”Nothing repeatable.”
I glance at the cat, then back to Sirona. ”Do some more research. See if there”s anything out there, any remote thing at all, that can help my hand? Something. Anything.”
Her crystalline eyes search my face, her expression soft. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
I want to reach across the space between us and take her hand. But she”s to my right, and when I touch her, really touch her for the first time, I want to feel it fully. Not fingers with no sensation.
Finally, she says, ”I can try. No promises. I”ve been pretty extensively trained. But I”ll look.”
I exhale and something loosens inside me. ”Thank you.” The words come out around the lump suddenly in my throat.
Her smile is soft and gentle, empathetic without being pitying. ”Of course.”
”OK then. I”ll do it. You”re my girlfriend and we”re dating and falling in love.” And hopefully this electric chemistry between us will ignite and we”ll have sex like a real couple.
”My mom has us all over for dinner on Sundays. Would you like to join us? Seems like a decent place to debut as a couple.”
I chuckle. ”Should I wear my debutante gown?”
”You wear whatever you feel most comfortable in.” She”s grinning, and it warms my chest.
”Probably not a dress, then.”
We stay like that for endless moments, smiling, holding each other”s gazes. I feel like we”re communicating, but I”m not entirely sure what we”re saying. I just feel the pull to her. An attraction stronger than any I”ve ever felt. And different. It almost seems to be something more than mere sexual attraction.
But we can”t be anything real. A fling at most. Because dammit, my hand will get better, and I”ll go back to Chicago and she”ll stay in Owl Cove. And I”m not interested in the long-distance thing.
No, there”s no real future for me and Sirona. But we can pretend.