Chapter 9
GRANT
My sister, Kelsey, squeezes my shoulder as she lets me into her house. ”Thanks so much for doing this. It”s a thousand times easier and quicker to do errands without her.” She gives an affectionate smile to my two-year-old niece, Aileen, who is playing with foam blocks on the living room floor.
”It”s also a million times cheaper, because she wants to buy everything.” My sister rushes around the room, an open-concept living-dining-kitchen-entry house, looking for whatever she needs to take with her. I simply stand there and watch.
She”s like a whirling dervish. Always has been. I”m the serious one, the intellectual achiever who also played varsity sports. Three years younger than me, she was homecoming queen, student council president, and a cheerleader. Our differences caused friction when we were kids, but now we complement each other well.
And her husband, Hank, is a really good guy. He was in my high school class but I didn’t really know him then. He”s a witch who works for Goode Witches.
Which makes my niece half witch. I”m not sure what that means in terms of her having magical powers. I guess we”ll see as she grows up.
Speaking of witches, I haven”t stopped thinking about kissing one of them since the moment I walked away from her in her hallway. It took a lot of deep breathing, and thinking about the grosser realities of performing surgery, to get my hard-on to go away.
Because I definitely don”t want to hang out with my sister and niece in that state. Ew.
”So.” Kelsey stops her frantic movement to stand at the end of her kitchen island. Hands on hips, diaper bag on her shoulder, she stares at me.
Even though I know what she”s going to ask me, I avoid the topic. I hate lying to my family. But I also hate the worry and pity on their faces lately when they look at me.
”You”re not taking Aileen. Do you really need the diaper bag?”
Kelsey looks at her bag, rolls her eyes, and drops it to the ground. ”I”m so used to it, I don”t even think about it. But don”t think you”re changing the subject. I want to know about you and this woman. One of the Goodes. Which one? There are so many cousins, I lose track.”
”Sirona.” Just saying her name feels good inside. Which is dangerous. I shouldn”t be falling for her.
And I”m not. This is just attraction. The internal feeling is just about lust.
”Right, Sirona. She”s the healing one, right?”
”Yeah. That”s how we reconnected. I was hoping she could help my hand.”
Kelsey”s eyes light up. ”Can she?”
I shake my head. ”She gave me a salve for pain, and it works really well. But nothing structural.”
She makes a face. ”Bummer.” She pauses, probably to catch her breath. ”Reconnect? So you knew her in high school?”
”She was in The Fantasticks with me.”
”Oooooh, right. The redhead.”
The redhead who is sexy as fuck.
I just nod.
”Well, tell me everything! What”s happening with you two?”
”I...” I try to think of a way to phrase things that”s not technically a lie. ”We”ve been on a few dates, and been hanging out. We”re taking it very slow.”
Kissing her this morning didn”t feel slow. Kissing her last night felt like... everything.
Kelsey makes another face. ”That”s no fun! I want juicy details. I have to live vicariously.”
Even if there were more details to share, I would not be discussing them with my little sister. ”No thanks.”
She finds her purse and slings it over her shoulder, picks up her cell phone, then drops to a crouch next to Aileen.
”Bye, baby. You be good for Uncle Grant.” She kisses the girl on the top of her head, then straightens. ”I”ll be a couple hours. Text me if there”s a problem.”
”There won”t be a problem.” I look over at my niece, who is watching us with big brown eyes. ”Will there, Aileen?”
”No pro”em,” she repeats.
”Oh, yeah, and watch your language. She repeats everything.” With that, my sister disappears out the front door.
Leaving me alone with a two year old. Something I”ve never been before in my life. I don”t really know any kids, definitely don”t spend time with them. A few of my colleagues have babies and toddlers, but not the ones I tend to socialize with outside work. Probably because they”re married with kids.
It”s eleven, so too early for lunch. I honestly don”t know Kelsey and Hank”s views on TV for Aileen. Probably should”ve asked.
I pull out my phone and shoot a text to my sister. It takes me forever to type it without mistakes.
Me: Can she watch TV? What shows are even appropriate? Is Sesame Street still around?
Another thought occurs to me.
Me: I”m gonna have to change a diaper, aren”t I?
Two is too young to be potty trained, right?
I look over and she”s still watching me. She”s got a foam block in her mouth, another in her other hand.
Then she takes the block out of her mouth and reaches out toward me with it. ”Bok?”
What the hell. I deal with bodily fluids all the time at work. What”s one little girl”s saliva?
I join her on the floor, and for the next while we play with blocks. Kelsey texts back that TV is fine, with a list of approved shows. Including Sesame Street. She confirms that I will, indeed, need to change a diaper. That text is followed by a string of rude emojis.
When Aileen is bored with the blocks, we watch Bert and Ernie and Elmo and the gang for a bit. I haven”t watched Sesame Street in decades, and it”s changed a lot. But Ernie was my favorite as a kid and that part hasn”t changed.
”Hung”y.” Aileen crawls over the couch and into my lap.
”You want lunch?”
She nods, brown curls bouncing around her adorable face. She”s the cutest toddler I”ve ever seen, even if it is a small pool and I”m completely biased.
I stand with her balanced on my left arm and we head for the kitchen area. She still uses a highchair, so I put her in that and turn it toward me as I work at preparing food. I have no idea what two year olds eat, but fortunately Kelsey left me a list.
It”s all going great. I can microwave a hot dog with the best of them. Then I get to the part where I”m supposed to cut the cooked hot dog into little bites so she doesn”t choke.
Shit.
Since my injury is to my dominant hand, I”ve been gradually getting mildly adequate at some tasks with my left hand. Knives are not one of those tasks. I”ve been able to make do without needing to cut things, and I don”t want to practice and risk adding more scars to my right hand or something.
Maybe if I use a regular butter knife, not a sharper chef”s knife, it”ll be easy enough. It”s just a hot dog. They”re soft.
I set the warm meat on a cutting board and get a knife from the silverware drawer. I grip it in my left fist and hold the hot dog in place with my right hand. And I cut.
Or at least I try. I awkwardly saw at the food, and it takes several attempts before the knife pierces the skin of the hot dog.
”Foo!” Aileen yells, banging her little fists on the tray in front of her.
”I”m working on it,” I tell her.
”Foo!” she repeats with more banging.
Awesome. I”m going to send the kid into a hunger-induced tantrum because of my fucking hand. Anger and frustration swirl around inside me, almost but not quite masking the deeper sense of inadequacy. I can”t even feed a fucking child without this being a problem.
My niece continues yelling and banging as I saw away at the hot dog, my frustration mounting with every slide of the knife. My brain is about to go to a dark place that I have no desire to go. But it takes all my energy to fight that while also hacking at the food. By the time I”ve got the whole thing chopped up, I”m exhausted. And still pissed off.
The urge to yell at Aileen to shut the fuck up is strong, but she”s practically a baby and has no idea how to deal with being hangry. So I scoop the hot dog bits onto a plastic plate and set it in front of her. ”There you go!” I force cheer into my voice.
She looks up at me with teary eyes. ”Tan” oo.”
I”m pretty sure that was thank you, so I say, ”You”re welcome.”
As she eats, I check my phone. It”s been almost two hours. Kelsey should be home soon. Between sleeping like crap last night knowing Sirona was just upstairs, and this ordeal with my niece, I need a nap before my date tonight.
One thing no one tells you about pain is how fucking exhausting it is.
Speaking of pain...
Me: another spell on my hand? niece did number on it.
Anticipation edging out the frustration in me—anticipation of both my nap and my date—I turn my attention back to my niece.
SIRONA
Work was not great today, so by the time I arrive at Stonehenge Inn, I”m in a crappy mood. Hopefully Grant”s calm presence will help soothe it.
He”s already at a table, wearing glasses again, and it looks really damn hot on him. I desperately want to kiss him, and hell, I”m going to. We”re supposed to be dating anyway.
I come up to him, put my hand on his shoulder, and bend down to kiss his cheek. ”Hey.”
He startles a little, then looks up at me with a tired smile. ”Hey yourself.”
”So corny,” I tease as I round the table and sit down across from him. I already feel lighter. Which is both wonderful and terrible. I can”t get attached to him. It”s only pretend love. No falling for real.
He picks up one of the menus, pushes his glasses up on his head, and starts to look over the options. This look isn”t nearly as sexy for him, but who am I kidding? I”m so attracted to him, even with the goofy looks, I”m smitten.
I really wish I could have Bronwen do a ”don”t fall in love” spell. Maybe I should try one on myself, even if love magic isn”t my specialty.
After considering my own menu and choosing what I want, I set it aside and look at Grant, who has also finished reading and has his glasses back on his face. Still, I can see the sparkle in his eyes even through the glass.
”How was work today?”
”How was your niece?”
We speak at the same time, then laugh together.
”You mentioned you hurt your hand?” I say before he can speak again.
His face creases into a frown. ”Yeah. I, uh, I was trying to cut up her lunch into pieces she won”t choke on. And I”m still too clumsy with my left hand to use a knife, so I had to fumble a lot. And it was...” He sighs. ”It wasn”t great.”
I feel the frustration coming off him; it”s nearly tangible. His left hand is resting on the table, so I reach to cover it with my own. ”I”m sorry. I wish there were more I could do. Does it hurt a lot?”
He turns over his hand and wraps his fingers around mine. ”Right now? Yeah. Most of the time that salve you gave me works, though.”
I give him half a smile. ”Glad I could at least do that for you.” I feel so impotent. Why does magic have to have these limits?
”Do you want me to do the spell right now, or wait until after dinner?” Now that I look more closely, I can see the slight furrow between his brows, one that isn”t usually there. He”s practically grimacing in pain.
He looks over his shoulder, then back at me. ”Can you do it here?”
I fight the urge to smile. ”Yeah, it”s a pretty simple spell. Just energy and my will.”
”And people don”t care if you do it in the middle of a restaurant.”
Now it”s my turn to frown. ”You grew up here. You should know we don”t hide our craft. It”s kind of the backbone of Owl Cove.”
”No, I know. I guess I just never realized...” He sucks in a deep breath. ”I”m being kind of an ass, aren”t I?”
I fight another smile. ”Little bit.”
”I”m sorry. Even growing up here, this is really new to me.”
I squeeze his hand. ”It”s OK. I”ll teach you.”
Something about my words feels like I”m saying more. Something with innuendo. He clearly catches it too, because his eyes heat and his gaze drops to my mouth. My breath hitches.
But before anything can come of it, our server arrives and takes our order. By the time they leave, the moment has passed.
”Anyway, how was your day at work?”
I sigh. ”Frustrating. We state several times on our website before people make appointments that we can”t cure certain conditions. When they make their initial appointment, they sign off on it. But we know people don”t really read what they sign online. So I get lots of patients who I can”t help. Maybe I can treat symptoms, but I ultimately send them home disappointed and frustrated and still sick. And I hate it.”
He squeezes my hand. ”That sucks.”
I trace the condensation on my water glass with my free hand. ”It does.” I”ve talked to Mom about ways to change our website, so it”s more apparent. Suggested we have people do an initial consult call before they can book an appointment. But she just says this is how we do it, and that the website is for the IT guys.
”Yeah. I feel like I waste a lot of people”s time, plus my own. And of course, they still have to pay for the appointment.”
”Sounds like your day was as frustrating as mine.” He makes a grim face. ”At least I got a nap after I babysat.”
I laugh dryly. ”I would kill for a nap.”
”Do you get much time off?”
”Six weeks of vacation, plus effectively unlimited sick days.” We treat our employees very generously. What”s the point of having a billion-dollar company if you can”t have it benefit everyone involved in making the company run?
”And do you take your time off?” There”s a teasing glimmer in his eyes.
I make an exaggeratedly guilty face. ”I think I took a few days off last winter, for Solstice.”
”You know it”s important to take time off and rest, right? Or are witches different and don”t feel stress the way we mere mortals do?”
Because we”re being playful, I give in to the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Just a little. He laughs, and it warms me.
”Yes, we get stressed too. And we”re not immortal. Do you use your time off, Doctor Surgery Resident?”
”Doctor Lumberjack.”
I bark out a laugh. ”What’s the story behind the Dr. Lumberjack, anyway?”
His cheeks pinken adorably. ”In our first year, one of the other residents found out I like all the outdoorsy stuff, and with the beard and my penchant for flannel shirts... the nickname stuck. The nurses love it.”
I laugh. A loud, deep sound that fills my chest. He chuckles, then laughs too. And by the time our server arrives with our food, we”re bent over the table, cracking up.
I can perfectly picture him in surgery, in his scrubs, bent over a patient”s hand in deep concentration. Nurse, scalpel.
Yes, Doctor Lumberjack.
Our server stands next to the table, plate in each hand, smiling as we collect ourselves so they can set down our food. I finally manage to sit up straight and they set the plate of roast chicken and grilled veggies in front of me.
”Thanks, Rain,” I say.
Small town. Of course I know the server. Their mom works for Goode Witches. She”s one of those IT people I wish would update the website.
”No problem.” They set down the Shepherd”s pie in front of a still-chuckling Grant.
As we eat, we talk about a little of everything. My frustrations with my job, what I love about my job—the people I truly can help—funny anecdotes from being a surgery resident, what it”s like having a cat I can talk to, and what it”s like having young nieces.
By the time I set my fork and knife on my empty plate, the stresses of my day have practically melted away. Laughing with Grant feels good. Absorbing his hungry glances feels exciting. And as much as I know it”s not a good idea to get further involved with him, I”m not sure I can stop myself.
It feels inevitable. And more importantly, it feels right.
He insists on paying, and I don”t put up too much of a fuss. Sure, I can afford to pay for myself or both of us, but I like having a date buy me dinner. I can count on one hand the times that”s happened.
As we walk out into the warm June evening, he puts his hand on the small of my back and it”s another thing that feels right. Grant should touch me more. Everywhere.
But not right now, standing on the sidewalk in the center of Owl Cove.
It”s been a long day, and I”m tired from a restless night of sleep last night, but I don”t want to leave his company. Besides, we have pointedly avoided the one thing we said we were going to talk about at dinner.
”You want to go for a walk along the lake?” he asks before I can say something.
My smile feels like it warms me from the inside out. ”I”d love to.”
He takes my hand, laces our fingers together, and turns us toward the boardwalk that runs along the lakeshore.
True to its name, the center of Owl Cove is built along a cove on Wildflower Lake. It”s a fairly sizable lake, and clean enough to swim in. I”ve lived in this town my entire life, except for four years of college in Madison, and it”s a part of my soul. I can”t imagine ever living somewhere else. I”ve traveled some, but I”m kind of a homebody, so I don”t love it. I”m always glad to get back to Owl Cove.
We turn onto the boardwalk, and I tug him to a stop. The town is on the east side of the lake, so looking out over it has us facing west. The sun is setting, hanging low over the horizon and casting the sky into pinks and purples and oranges that are magnificent.
”The deities are outdoing themselves tonight,” I say. As far as I know, the deities don”t actually have anything to do with things as mundane as sunsets. Even Mother Nature has more important things to work on. But it”s fun to tease Grant a little.
He gives me a curious look. ”Do they control sunsets? I thought that was just physics and astronomy and stuff.”
I grin. ”It is. Just wanted to mess with you.”
He chuckles, and then his gaze gets more intense. ”I really like you, Sirona. More than I should.”
Oh. Well, wasn”t expecting that.
My body heats from head to toe and I throb a bit between my legs. ”I like you too. More than I should.”
His fingers graze my cheek, and I lean into his hand. His touch is like fire. But the softest, gentlest, most exciting fire ever.
”What are we going to do about this? I can”t promise you anything. I have every intention of going back to Chicago in July and going back to my life there.” His gaze searches my face. ”And I don”t see you ever leaving Owl Cove.”
A pang of sadness thumps in my chest. ”No, I don”t either.” Chicago is huge. I don”t think I could ever adjust to that. Nor do I want to.
”But I don”t want to stop... whatever this is.” He pulls in a ragged breath. ”I can”t be around you and not want you.”
My gaze seems to burn through him and see inside his head. See his thoughts. Maybe even a piece of his soul. ”I can”t either. We either have to fake break up or we have to...” I don”t know how to end the sentence. We can”t be together for real. Not with him leaving.
He leans down and rests his forehead against mine. ”Something fun. Temporary. No feelings getting involved, just two consenting adults having fun together. Let it unfold and see where it goes.”
The appeal is great, and all I have to do is reach out and grab it. But there”s a hollowness underneath that gives me pause. He”s right, we can”t catch feelings. But can I do that?
Then again, what”s my alternative? Calling off our arrangement and continuing on with life as it”s been has even less appeal than falling in love with him and getting my heart broken.
Plus, if I do fall in love, the curse will be over for sure. Maybe it’s worth the heartbreak if it frees my sisters.
”Next weekend.” The words surprise me almost as much as they appear to surprise him.
”What about next weekend?”
”There”s a small group of us going camping. We go a few times every summer. Would you like to join us?” Why is my heart pounding so hard? Inviting him camping, with the implication of sharing a tent with me, fits both our fake dating arrangement and this new thing unraveling between us.
He sucks in his breath between his teeth. ”Are you asking me to share a tent with you?” The corner of his mouth twitches like he”s teasing me.
I actually do smile. ”I am.” And then, because that twitching lip is so damn cute, I nibble at it.
He groans and wraps me in a tight hug, nibbling back. Slow, lazy kisses that go on and on, spreading gentle fire through my body.
I could take him home with me tonight. But maybe it”s best if we take this slow. The slower it goes, the less chance of me falling for him. Tonight it will just be me and my toys.
So I draw back, my brow still against his, eyes still shut. ”We should probably go.” We drove separately, so at least I don”t have to worry about drowning in sexual tension as he drives me home.
He drops his face into my neck and his lips brush the sensitive skin as he talks. ”We should. To separate houses. As much as I absolutely hate that idea.”
I shiver. ”Me too.”
He presses a gentle kiss to my shoulder, then lifts his head. ”But we”re going to get there, Sirona.”
My breath sticks in my throat, so all I can do is nod. I have never wanted anyone this badly.
”And when we do, it”s gonna be fucking amazing.”
GRANT
Driving home, I replay every moment of my evening with Sirona. Which isn”t like me. I don”t dwell. I don”t relive. But tonight, I am.
And it”s not just the kisses, the way she feels in my arms, the weight of her breasts against my chest. Although it is also that.
It”s her smile. The way it lights her up from the inside out, and even more, the way it lights me up from the inside out. I can”t describe what I feel for her. It”s more than lust.
It”s probably dangerous to pursue this fling with her. Because at the end of the day, our lives are incompatible. I love Owl Cove, and being near wilderness, I love being near my mom and sister. My niece. But my life is in big cities. Ultimately, my career goals trump it all. And they don”t put major surgery centers in small towns. Best I could do in Owl Cove is be a general practitioner. I”m sure that”s satisfying, but surgery has been my goal since high school.
Right now, though, that life is on hold and my life is temporarily here. With Sirona. And fuck, I want her. Maybe it was a mistake to decide to let things evolve slowly. I could have her in the passenger seat with me right now. Maybe she”d put her hand on my thigh, let her fingers tease my hardening cock.
Catching bass with Tyler up in the Boundary Waters. Getting a cavity filled. The first time I sat in on a surgery to remove a gangrenous limb.
OK, yep, that successfully calms my hard-on.
I get home, park the car, and head straight inside. It”s a gorgeous night, and I would probably enjoy having a drink outside. But even though my cabin is tucked away and private, there are distant neighbors. I”m not going to be a creep and jerk off on my porch.
The house feels weirdly big and empty, even though it”s only big enough for me. I head straight for the stairs to my bedroom, kicking my shoes off in the middle of the living room. I can deal with them tomorrow.
Once upstairs, I strip off my t-shirt, shove down my pants and boxer briefs, and collapse backward on my bed, naked.
I fist my cock and groan with how good it is. Pleasure shoots to every corner of my body. I start stroking, and it”s clumsy. I have years of practice with my right hand, but this left-handed masturbation is new. I”m getting the hang of it, but it still has an awkward feel.
One more reason I”d prefer Sirona”s hand stroking up and down, twisting a little, squeezing at the head. I close my eyes and imagine that”s what”s happening. Her hands are so much more delicate than mine. Soft, with long fingers. She”ll be able to wrap all the way around me.
I use the fingertips of my right hand to tease my balls, and it adds a zing that makes my toes curl. Even if I can”t grab them as hard as I used to, it”s definitely not unpleasant.
Fuck, I”m not gonna last. It”s probably better she”s not here to witness me blowing my load so quickly. Because with her, I want to take my time. Explore her entire beautiful body. Lick and touch every inch of her.
And then fuck her until neither of us can think, let alone move.
My imagination jumps back and forth between two images: one of her kneeling over me and sucking my cock, the other of her straddling me and riding it.
Oh shit, of fuck, oh damn, that”s so good. I arch into my hand and it”s no longer awkward. Just pure pleasure.
”Sirona.” I moan her name a second time. A third.
And I come. A deep explosion of bliss starting at the base of my spine and rolling through my entire body. Centered in my pulsing cock, spurting onto my chest. Another wave crashes over me and her name escapes my lips again.
With a huge groan, I go slack on the bed, arms and legs splayed out. I”m beyond spent. I”m nearly delirious with pleasure. It”s entirely possible that when I do get Sirona naked with me, I won”t survive the aftermath.
And I”m OK with that.