Fake Dating a Witch

Chapter 6

SIRONA

My cousins own the cutest establishments in Owl Cove. And of course I”m one hundred percent biased, since they”re family. Honey, who owns the local coffee shop, The Honey Hive, is also my best friend. We”re the same age and grew up together.

Her younger sister, Chessie—affectionately called Cheesy by the family—owns the Grilled Cheese Diner. She makes, buys, and conjures the most amazing cheeses. Then she turns them into sandwiches that are to die for. I could eat here every meal, but my cholesterol levels probably wouldn”t care for that. Then again, I have a spell to fix that. I should consider coming here more.

Tonight, Saturday, I walk into Grilled Cheese hand-in-hand with Grant. Chessie has an event room at the back of the restaurant, which is decked out to look like a classic 1950s diner, with a cheese motif to the decor.

Tonight she and Honey are hosting a wine, cheese, honey, and chocolate tasting. Since Chessie still has to run the restaurant, Honey is at the door to the event room, her hostess grin on her face. She”s wearing her signature champagne-colored top, with a black skirt and rose-gold sandals.

As soon as she sees me, her smile turns real. Then she sees Grant and her expression turns questioning, eyebrows forming a V over her eyes.

I can”t imagine, after almost a week since Grant and I ”debuted” at my mom”s for dinner, that Honey hasn”t heard through the family grapevine that we”re supposedly dating. But we”ve been playing phone tag since Monday, and she insists we have to talk about this, not text. ”It”s too big, Sirona,” was her exact wording.

When we reach her, I drop Grant”s hand, reluctantly, to hug my cousin. Her honey-colored hair (shocking, I know) brushes my cheek and smells like the lavender shampoo we all get from her other sister, Lavender. Lavender, another shocker, owns a lavender, and goat, farm.

”We still need to talk,” she whispers in my ear.

”Come to dinner tomorrow,” I say as I step back.

Grant immediately reaches for my hand, and I try not to get too excited about it.

Honey cuts her eyes over to Grant, then back to me. ”I could do that.”

Keeping up appearances, I snuggle up to his shoulder. ”He won”t mind if we escape for a little cousin time. Will you, sweetie?” The pet name just comes out, feeling entirely too natural.

He smiles down at me, brown eyes affectionate. Damn, he”s a good actor. ”Of course not, babe.”

My stomach teeter-totters at his endearment. It”s fake. I have to remember it”s fake. We”re here to be seen, to convince everyone, especially my sisters, that we are in love. I know Morgan and Bronwen will be here. I think Evan invited himself along with them; it was originally going to be the four of us.

”Lavender or Basil coming?” I ask.

Honey shakes her head, her straight hair brushing her shoulders. ”Lav has a date who”s lactose intolerant, and Basil is... Basil.” She rolls her eyes.

The only male cousin, Basil, can have a bit of a stick up his ass sometimes.

I don”t bother asking about our other cousins, our Aunt Sara”s daughters. They”re in a popular rock band together, Celestial Alchemy, and are on the final leg of a European tour.

I”m definitely not jealous.

Honey gestures through the open French doors. ”Find a table. Your sisters aren”t here yet. But there”s a nice one in the back corner if you want a modicum of privacy.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

Grant huffs out a chuckle while I roll my eyes at her. As appealing as having a cozy corner to ourselves sounds, we”re here to be noticed. We need to sit front and center.

”Think you can keep your hands off me for a few hours?” he asks, low enough to be sexy but loud enough for Honey to hear the hunger in his voice.

Hunger that has me turned on and needy between my legs. I want this man so badly.

Not good.

”I can probably handle it,” I deadpan as we walk into the room. Honey pokes me in the side as I pass her. I wish the promise in his words were true. I wish I only had to keep my hands off him for a few hours.

If I really wanted, I know I could seduce him easily. Hell, there probably wouldn”t need to even be a seduction. When he drops me off, I could say, ”Want to come in?” And we”d spend the night devouring each other.

But this isn”t real. Sex would be a huge complication. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

And I have so many other things I”m juggling in my life, I don”t need that extra headache. As great as it might feel in the moment.

I glance over my shoulder at him as he pulls out a silver metal chair for me and think: As great as it would feel in the moment. There”s no might about it.

Our table is round, white Formica with a yellow base, and Grant slides his chair over next to mine. He drapes his arm around the back of my chair and leans in to talk in my ear.

His breath over my neck makes me shiver.

”How”s this?” he asks in a voice low enough only I can hear.

I turn my head, my nose brushing his. Just that slight contact has tingles running through my whole body. Maybe this fake dating is a bad idea. I”m not sure I can handle being around him, being this attracted to him, and not doing anything about it.

Still, I say, ”Perfect.” I put my hand on his thigh and squeeze. The muscle tenses under my palm and his eyes go wide for a second, but he gives me a half smile that”s so sexy, I want to kiss it. Now. In front of the few other people in the room.

”Did I tell you, you look really good tonight?” he asks, still talking low enough for just me.

I can”t help smiling. I might have taken extra time, using product in my hair so it comes out in its natural waves, choosing my favorite shade of mauve lipstick. I”m wearing a drapey white top with a low V-neck and cap sleeves. It shows off just a hint of cleavage and the three necklaces I”m wearing. I”m wearing it with loose purple cotton pants and the rainbow slides I got at Target a few years ago from their Pride line.

”Thank you. You don”t look so bad yourself.” He”s in low-slung jeans and an emerald green t-shirt that complements his dark coloring. Tonight he”s foregone his contacts and is wearing black-rimmed glasses that give him a sexy intellectual look.

I want to rip them off so I can do depraved things to his mouth.

I blink away the thought and shake my head a little.

”What?” he asks.

”Nothing. Just silly thoughts.” Our faces are still so close together, noses a breath apart. I can see the flecks of gold in his irises, the ring of black around the brown.

”You have gold in your eyes,” he says, voice so soft and intimate it makes me ache. Down low, where I want him to touch me.

”So do you,” I whisper.

He smiles and is about to say something else when Bronwen”s voice cuts in. ”Sirona! Grant! Hey.”

Reluctantly, I turn away from him to greet my sisters.

GRANT

The way I want Sirona is intense. If her sisters hadn”t arrived, I think I would have kissed her. Not for show, not for whoever might come in and see us. For me. For her.

For us.

She wants me too. I know it. And it”s beyond apparent that it would be amazing, explosive between us.

It would also be a mistake. I”m going back to Chicago in July, having surgery and, once that heals, getting back to my last year as a resident. Then on to becoming a board certified plastic surgeon and working my way up to being one of the best in the world. That”s my path. And my last few disasters of relationships proved there”s no room in my life for romance.

Sirona would only end up hurt. She”s not the kind of woman who would keep her feelings out of it for very long if we were sleeping together. I like her. I”m not going to fall in love with her, but I don”t want to hurt her. And hurt is all that”s in store for us if we end up having sex.

Well, not all that’s in store, but that’s the trajectory.

Still, doesn”t mean I can”t enjoy rubbing my thumb over that enticing patch of bare skin on her back, under her hair, where her shirt scoops low or over the small Celtic knotwork tattoo on the inside of her left wrist.

She”s chatting with her sisters and Evan, but I don”t pay attention. I”m absorbed in the softness of her. Of the lavender scent of her hair, so close to my face. I only know it”s lavender because she told me she gets all her products from her cousin, who owns a lavender farm. (It”s a little on the nose, since she”s named Lavender; I guess it”s better than naming her Goat, which is the other half of her farm.)

”How about you, Grant?” Morgan”s voice cuts into my thoughts.

I look up. ”Sorry?”

”I asked if you”re looking forward to this too?” Morgan glances at my hand on Sirona”s back, then returns to my face.

”Absolutely. Who doesn”t love wine, cheese, and chocolate? And a little honey can”t hurt.”

”It absolutely can”t,” Honey says, smiling as she passes our table and heads to the front of the room. ”Take your seats, everyone. We”re going to get started.”

She gives us a brief overview of how the evening is going to go, what she”ll serve us when, and which specific pairings of wine and cheese she and Chessie have picked. I”m too distracted by Sirona”s soft skin and the tickle of her hair on the back of my hand. It”s my left hand, so I have full sensation. And wow, the sensations. My skin is awake. My whole body is awake.

I don”t know how I”m going to resist this temptation for another six weeks. But the more I think about it, the more I realize how much it benefits me to be seen as dating her. Not just for the reunion. I”ve talked with both my mom and my sister recently, and both mentioned how glad they are that I”m not wallowing anymore.

I know they”ve been worried about me. So it”s good they think I”m doing better. And they won”t worry as much when Sirona and I pretend to break up, since I”ll be going back to the life I”ve built in Chicago. Back to being a surgeon.

Speaking of, Sirona and I haven”t discussed our break up, or even the end to our pretend relationship. It makes the most sense for us to decide we can”t handle the distance and split when I go back to Chicago. I should mention it to her on the drive home.

I”m pulled out of my thoughts when one of the servers sets a long, thin wooden tray in front of us. It”s got chunks of chocolate on one side, bites of cheese on the other, and a small bowl of honey in the middle. Another server is weaving through tables, pouring wine.

”Enjoy,” the server says cheerfully, then moves to Evan, Morgan, and Bronwen”s table.

Once we have our wine, a deep red Malbec, Sirona raises her glass toward me. I smile as I pick up my own glass. We tap them together and she says, ”To starting something.” Her smile is sly, and she winks.

I can”t keep from chuckling. ”To starting something.” To anyone who overhears us, they”ll assume we mean the relationship we”re starting. But we know we mean we”re starting assumptions and talk.

I pick up a chunk of chocolate and reach toward her. My gaze holds hers as I bring the dark morsel to her lips and press it there. The way I want to press my own lips there.

Closing her eyes, her tongue skims out as she wraps her lips around the bite, and it slides along my fingers. A blast of lust jolts through me, going straight to my cock. It”s not uninterested in what”s happening.

A soft moan escapes her mouth, and my cock gets even more interested. It”s definitely going to be a jerk-off-before-bed night.

”That”s delicious.” Her eyelids flutter open, and her eyes look dazed. Like she”s as horny as I am over simple chocolate.

Except it”s so much more than chocolate.

She picks up the other piece and holds it out for me. I lean forward and wrap my mouth around both the candy and her fingertips. My tongue swirls around them, and I honestly can”t tell if the chocolate or Sirona is more delicious. I”d be willing to do a more in-depth taste test of her skin, just to be sure.

A soft cry comes from the back of her throat as I slowly pull my lips back, reluctantly letting her fingers go. Our eyes maintain contact the whole time, and my heart is pounding as hard as my cock is throbbing.

It”s gonna be a really long six weeks. And wonderfully torturous.

She leans in close, her cheek so close to mine, I can feel the whiskers of my beard making contact with her. Her breath tickles my ear.

Ears have always been a particularly sensitive spot for me, and I can”t hold in a shiver.

”I feel like, if we were a real couple, I”d be saying something about how hot tonight is going to be,” she whispers.

She”s killing me.

”It would be so fucking hot,” I reply, drowning in her soft red hair and lavender scent. I”m going to be attracted to lavender for the rest of my life.

She leans back and again looks into my eyes. I can”t see anything past her face, she”s so close. Her nose bumps mine. ”It would.”

Before I can do something foolish like kiss her, Bronwen calls over, ”Get a room!”

Once again, saved by the sister.

Sirona pulls in a deep breath, drawing my attention to all that bare skin on her chest and the faint hint of cleavage. I want to bury my face there—among other places on her body—and taste her.

Fuck. I have got to get my head on straight. Sirona and I are not sleeping together. I have to get these feelings under control.

”Don”t worry,” she says to her sister. ”We fully intend to do that once this is over.”

Morgan rolls her eyes and Bronwen snort-laughs. Evan”s back is to us, so we can”t see his reaction.

Honey”s hand lands on my shoulder. I have no reaction to her, confirming that it”s uniquely Sirona I”m turned on by, and not some annoying reaction because I need to get laid.

”Try dipping the cheese in the honey. I promise, it”s amazing.”

The cheese is cubes of orange cheese, probably cheddar. Honey told us, but I”ve forgotten. Because I can”t stand another exchange where Sirona and I feed each other, I grab a cube, dunk it in the honey, and put it in my own mouth.

And damn if Honey isn”t right. The combo of the extra sharp cheese and the sweet honey is unique and delightful.

”This is amazing,” Sirona says around her mouthful.

I take a sip of wine and it perfectly complements the flavors lingering on my tongue. Honey and Chessie know their stuff.

”Does anyone ever call you Siri?” I ask, not entirely sure where the question came from. But for some reason, my brain sometimes wants to call her Siri.

She gives me a curious look, probably as surprised as I am that I asked. ”Lavender and Amethyst used to when they were little. But then a certain virtual assistant with that name came out and calling me that made everyone”s phones ask how they could help. So they stopped.”

I nod. Makes sense. I”m surprised no phone said, ”I”m sorry, I didn”t quite get that” after I said Siri. I know we both have that brand phone.

”No idea why I asked. But it seems like it would fit you.”

She frowns. ”Why, because I”m everyone”s assistant?” There”s a sharp edge in her voice.

I almost hold my hands up in a gesture of innocence. ”No. Because it”s pretty and so are you. But Sirona is also a beautiful name.”

Her expression softens as the server arrives to remove our first tray and deliver a second. This one has milk chocolate triangles, white chunks of cheese, and another bowl of honey.

”So how come plastic surgery?” she asks as I”m chewing my honey-dipped chocolate. It”s not my favorite combo, but it”s not terrible. The chocolate is damn good. I”m not aware of a local chocolatier, but they definitely didn”t get it from a convenience store. It”s gourmet chocolate.

I reach for the cheese, just to have something to do. People have asked me this before, and I”ve never been able to come up with an answer with more depth than ”Cuz.” And no one”s ever satisfied with that answer.

I stare into the wine, which pairs perfectly with this course as well, thinking.

She waits patiently, nibbling on the chocolate, as the din of conversation surrounds us.

Eventually I look at her and say the deep-down honest truth that I barely admit to myself. I have no idea why I”m admitting it to her now. But I do.

”It”s what my dad wanted me to do. It”s great money, high prestige, a challenge.” I shrug, trying to make the answer lighter than it feels. ”Who doesn”t want all that?”

Her head tilts to the side, hair rippling over her shoulder. ”Yeah, they”re nice enough.”

She does know about money and prestige. Goode Witches is a world-renowned company and draws people from all around the globe to our small town. And while she makes magic seem easy, I”m sure it”s much harder than it appears to a nulla like me.

She touches my injured hand where it rests on my thigh. ”I definitely understand challenges.” Her mouth twists into a sad smile.

I use my pinky to rub along the side of her hand. This contact feels warm and calm and soothing, not wildly erotic like earlier. I”m not used to this sort of touch, but I think I like it.

”Didn”t your dad die when we were in high school?” she asks softly. Her voice is so gentle.

I nod. ”Yeah, right at the end of my junior year.”

She nods. ”So you”re pursuing a career in his honor?”

I have to think about that way more than I”d like. Because honor isn”t the right word. Abject terror of his spirit haunting me from the afterlife is more like it. And even though I know Morgan talks to spirits of dead people, I feel silly saying that out loud to anyone, let alone Sirona. I recognize it”s a weak thing to center my whole life around. But there”s nothing I can do about how deeply engrained my dad”s voice is in my head, even after all these years.

So I simply say, ”Something like that.”