Chapter 5
GRANT
Monday afternoon I go for a run, shower, check my work email out of habit, even though there”s an out of office autoresponder on, then flop down on one of my chairs on the porch with a glass of iced tea.
The day is overcast, which suits my mood.
I”m just sinking into a good sulk when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to read.
Sirona: Can you come over sometime this evening? Few things to go over. Anytime is fine, I”ll just be gardening.
Things to go over? I”m not really in a mood to talk to anyone. It”s why I didn”t call Tyler to see if he wants to hang out. It”s why I turned down my sister”s invitation to join them for dinner.
But for some reason, I can”t say no to Sirona. It”s not like I think we”re gonna hook up. Last night, after we walked back to her house, she gave me a pat on the chest before disappearing into that massive purple house of hers.
I glance at the log siding of my cabin. Way more my speed. Her house suits her, mine suits me.
With a sigh, I down the rest of my iced tea and shoot a quick text back to let her know I”m coming. Her house is only a few miles, so instead of taking my car, I grab my mountain bike. It”s an easy ride, all paved streets. I prefer trails, where there”s some sense of adventure. But I”m biking for transportation today, not recreation.
Because I have to use my right hand for braking, it”s throbbing by the time I pull up in her driveway. I forgot to put the salve on this morning; it really does help. But I need it three or four times a day.
Fucking hand. Fucking accident. It”s a wonder I even get on a bike anymore.
Since she said she”d be gardening, instead of going to the door, I take the cobblestone path around to the back of the house.
Her yard is huge and lush, with flowers and greenery everywhere. There”s a roped off area with what looks like vegetables and herbs. It”s clearly maintained by someone who loves plants but isn”t concerned with manicuring the space to make it look picture perfect.
I immediately feel at home here. This is nature at its best, and I love nature.
Sirona is sitting on the ground in the far corner of the yard, digging at something in the dirt.
I start toward her and raise my hand in greeting. ”Hey.”
She looks up, a bright smile lighting up her pretty face. ”Hey, Grant.” She nods to the grass next to her. ”Come have a seat.”
I drop down next to her and cross my legs. She meets my eyes and smiles again and something funny happens in my chest. Like I have an air bubble in my lungs or something. Except I don”t. It”s just my reaction to her.
Too bad I don”t really do flings with women, the way Tyler does. Because Sirona and I could have something hot as fuck. But I’m done with short term. I’m too busy for that. And when I eventually get back to dating, I want someone I can build a future with.
”I made a list.” She slides her hand into the pocket of her long, flowing black skirt and produces a folded piece of lavender paper. As she unfolds it, and I can see all the neat black writing across the page, my trepidation grows.
What is this a list of? And how does it involve me? I”m in Owl Cove to relax and heal, and maybe sulk some. I like not having a precise schedule, no one telling me where to be when. It’s a nice change from the hospital.
”A list of what?” I ask, leaning back on my left hand. It hurts too much to put half my weight on the right side.
”What we”re going to need to do so my sisters believe we”ve fallen in love. To break the curse.”
My stomach twists a little. I thought, other than last night, we were going to the town Solstice celebration and my reunion, and that was it. ”What”s on the list?”
”We need to be seen in public together a lot. Go on dates. My sisters won”t believe me if I just tell them we”re spending lots of time together.”
”Ooooh-kaaay.” I mean, there are worse things I could do with my time than go out with Sirona. Besides being hot, she seems like a good person to get to know. She was fun enough in high school when we were in the play together. And she seems to have only gotten better since then.
”You”ll have to come to family dinner with me each week. So they can see us in love.”
”But we”re not in love.”
”Yes, but they think we are. That”s the point.”
I shake my head a little. I need some caffeine or something. This is getting more complicated than I expected.
”And my sisters are nosy. So you might have to sleep over some nights.”
”What?” I sputter. I might even gasp or choke a little. Not that the idea of spending the night with Sirona doesn”t hold major appeal. It does. But I”m pretty sure she means me sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms she inevitably has in this giant house.
She toys with a pile of weeds on the ground next to her. ”You could stay until after midnight, then go home. But then you”d need to be back by six.”
I can definitely get by on fewer than six hours of sleep. That”s what surgery residency is. But given the choice, I like at least seven. Lately I”ve been edging closer to nine.
”And why do I need to maintain these hours?” I ask.
”Bronwen”s a night owl, and Morgan”s an early bird.” She won”t meet my eyes, still fiddling with the weeds. She picks up her weeding tool and rolls it between her hands.
She has really nice hands. Soft, with long, elegant fingers. But right now they”re encased in purple gardening gloves. Still, I have this bizarre urge to reach over and take her hand, remove the glove, and wrap her hand in mine.
Shoving away the thought, I say, ”Do they frequent your house at those hours?”
Finally she looks up and meets my gaze. ”Morgan likes to come by for coffee before work. Sometimes Honey does too, and while I don”t need her to believe in this for the sake of the curse, things will be smoother if everyone we know believes in us.”
I shove my right hand into my hair, then immediately regret it when pain lances through me, radiating all the way up to my elbow. Fuck. I suck in a sharp breath.
Her eyes narrow as she watches my face, which is inevitably showing my pain. ”Are you OK?”
”Will be.” I rub at my hand with my good hand. It doesn”t help, but it still seems like the right thing to do. ”I guess that”s why they call them unconscious gestures.”
She nods, but her gaze is far away. Then she shakes her head and seems to come back to herself. ”Are you using the salve?”
”Yep. It”s fantastic. Works like a charm.”
She grins. ”That”s because it is a charm, basically.”
I chuckle. ”I suppose so. I just forgot it this morning. I”ll put some on when I get home.”
She frowns. ”I could do that pain relief spell again. If you”d like.”
The word ”Yes” is out of my mouth before I can even think. ”That would be great.”
She tugs off her gloves and tosses them on top of the weed pile. Then she holds her hands out to me.
I give her my right hand, and she holds it between her two. We”re palm to palm, and something about it feels so intimate. The whole world shrinks to just the two of us, in this wild natural setting, and for the first time in months, I feel peace.
Then her finger traces over the scars crisscrossing the back of my hand, and the peace is gone.
She”s holding my hand. Her thumb starts slowly stroking the side of mine while her fingertips skip lightly over my injury. I”ve never been so aware of someone else”s touch and my whole arm tingles from the contact. Part of me screams to pull my hand back and forget this magic thing.
A larger part of me loves this. Wants to keep touching her and see where it leads.
Eventually she stops touching me with those delicate fingertips. She places her hand on top of mine, sandwiching me between hers. She bows her head and closes her eyes and starts speaking in a language I don”t understand. Once again, it sounds Celtic, but I”m no language expert.
My arm starts tingling more, my hand heating like I”m holding it over a campfire. There”s a shimmery sensation; the only way I can describe it is my hand feels like glitter. What does glitter even feel like? And yet, that”s how my hand feels as she recites over it.
The spell is quick, and when she”s done speaking, she gently squeezes my hands, then lets me go. The warm glitter sensation remains. I immediately want to reach for her and regain her touch.
Instead I assess my hand. Beyond the slowly fading glitter sensation, the pain is gone. ”Thank you. It feels like you”re some kind of miracle worker.”
Her smile is a little wry and maybe almost sad. ”Not a miracle, just magic. Helping people is what I do.” She shrugs, but there”s something in her voice that tells me there”s subtext to her words.
Before I can pry, she says, ”So. Back to dating. When we”re in public, we need to be physically affectionate. Holding hands, arms around each other, kisses on the cheek and forehead, that sort of thing.”
I almost choke on my tongue when she says ”kiss.” I would be lying if I said I hadn”t spent some time recently fantasizing about kissing Sirona. I mean, she”s got a perfect mouth, with that full bottom lip just waiting to be sucked on and bit.
I cough to recover from choking.
”You OK?”
No. ”Will be.”
”It”s not like I want to make out in public or anything.”
Damn. What about in private? ”Of course not. That”s tacky.”
”But I want it to look like as soon as we”re alone, we can”t keep our hands off each other.” Her expression is neutral, giving no indication that this conversation is affecting her the way it is me.
Because if I ever get her alone and willing, I definitely won”t be able to keep my hands off her.
I think maybe it just became my goal to seduce her. Which is definitely going to complicate things.
SIRONA
I watch Grant bike down the driveway, taking a moment to admire his very fit, sexy body, then I immediately head into the house to down a large glass of water. The man leaves me breathless and flustered. And horny. Talking about physical affection, hinting at sex, has me turned on like crazy.
Or maybe it”s just Grant himself.
After all, he was my first real crush. And he owns the honor of being the first guy I ever pictured being with when I masturbated. He was my orgasm fodder for quite some time.
That”s probably it.
And, OK, the spell doesn”t help either. Hands-on magic has some kickback. I feel as much of the energy as they do. Holding his hand in mine and tingling like that, it can confuse a brain.
I want everyone thinking we”re sleeping together. But it would just be messy if we actually did sleep together. It would be that much harder when he goes back to Chicago.
The most convincing way to do it is to just go ahead and jump him. Then everyone will think you”re having sex because you will be. And, hey, more fun for you.
Koko has wandered in from outside and sits down in the corner by the food and water bowls.
”Not that you don”t have a point, but it”s too much. I can”t—” A familiar flustered feeling comes over me. I have so much to do, so many things to take care of for so many people, I can”t take on another. If I get truly involved with Grant, he”ll have expectations. And my plate is already piled so high, things are in danger of falling off. It”s too many things to juggle.
To mix metaphors.
You could if you just said no.
”What does that even mean?” I refill my glass and try not to remember the intensity in Grant”s eyes as he talked to me. I definitely don”t think about how good, how right his hand felt in mine. ”You want me to say yes to sex by saying no?”
Say no to everyone else. They”re not your responsibility.
”I didn”t ask to be psychoanalyzed by a cat,” I snap. That stings. Makes my chest ache a little, just in the center, above my sternum, between my breasts. Instinctively, my hand goes to the spot and rubs.
I know, deep down, that her thought stings because it”s true. I take care of people. It”s what I do, it”s what I”ve always done. Someone had to take care of Morgan after my dad died. Mom, pregnant and grief stricken, did just the bare minimum for a few years. Nana helped as much as she could, but even at three years old, I knew it was going to be my responsibility to keep things in order as we grew up. Keep my sisters in order. Our family. Our lives.
Which is why I have to break this curse. Who knows when I”ll fall in love for real, but I don”t want to hold my sisters back from it.
That”s why this plan has to work.