Frostbite, Lovebite (Harper Valley Witch #2)

Megan Derr

"Of course this is your idea of a relaxing day off, I don't know what I expected," Ronan said with a dramatic sigh as they reached the top of the latest incline.

The meadow at the top, as hoped, contained all the flowers he'd been seeking, or nearly all of them, hard to tell at just one glance.

Setting down his bag, Match dug out the various reusable bags he'd bought for precisely this purpose.

Though he grew many of the herbs, plants, and flowers he needed for his work, it was impossible for a single hedge witch to grow everything they used.

The good thing about living next door to an enormous forest was that he didn't have to go far to get what he needed, or gamble on an online seller being as reliable as their glitzy website promised.

Thankfully, between his own foraging and a couple of shops in town he rarely had to chance online shopping at all.

"We've been dating for over two months, you know what you're in for.

And what's not relaxing?" he demanded.

"It's a pretty day, if cold, just about everything I was looking for is right here in this meadow, and the only other thing we're doing tonight is dinner, maybe dinner and a show if you stop mocking my ideas of fun."

Ronan grinned, maybe leering just a bit in that lethally charming way of his.

"Show, huh? Gonna dance for me, Match?"

"Keep dreaming, cause that's the only place I'm doing a strip dance.

Now shut up and focus.

See that Hellebore there?"

"Probably, but I've no idea which one that is."

"Oh, my god, it's not even a rare flower!" Match pointed to the dark, dusky pink flower in question.

"That one.

Pick the blossoms carefully, stow them in this bag.

They don't need to be kept intact, but the less damaged in transit the more I can control how I break them down and use them later."

Ronan saluted.

"Yes, my lord."

"Shut up." Rolling his eyes, smiling all the while, Match set to work on picking different flowers, starting with Winter Aconite and then moving on to Crocus, Snow Drops, Winter Heath, Witch Hazel, and finally Glory of the Snow.

"Not bad for a couple hours' work."

"Most of that spent hiking.

So did we get all your flowers? Dare I ask what they're for?"

"All kinds of things, but winter flowers are especially hardy so they're good for spells that have to last a long time, like wards.

Many curses use winter-blooming flowers and herbs, and their counters require the same, so always good to have a supply."

Ronan gave him a look.

"And they all happen to grow in the same meadow just ten miles out of town?"

"My grandmother's work, she was always immensely proud of it.

Come on, I'll let you buy me iced coffee on our way back home."

"How very gracious," Ronan said, bowing low as Match walked by him to lead the way back down the trail.

Thankfully, the return trip would go faster than the climb up, though going down always seemed more difficult than going up when it came to climbing.

Did actual, real hikers and climbers feel the same?

Match replied loftily, "I'm always gracious." Even though that wasn't true, at all, even a little bit.

Asking anyone for anything, especially his infinitely better off friends, was incredibly difficult.

Ronan's family was stupid levels of wealthy while Match could barely afford his shitty one room apartment.

Which meant in the whole two-ish months they'd been dating, Ronan did most of the paying.

Match had been allowed to pay for their Chinese food a whole one time.

As friends, he'd never minded occasionally making his friends buy him coffee, but he didn't want anyone thinking he was some kind of gold digger.

Certainly, that's what Ronan's family had said at the ball they'd attended back toward the end of December, right at the end of the month.

Ugh, worst night ever, and Ronan had been so angry over their behavior that he'd quite literally thrown away his phone, gotten a new one, and had not bothered to get the numbers of any of his family back.

They communicated through his uncle or not at all.

Not fair to poor Uncle Phillip, but he seemed fine with it for the time being.

Ronan's bright, candy red Challenger stood out in the gloomy, mostly empty parking lot, he slid into the passenger seat and sighed gratefully to be out of the increasingly biting wind.

The day was still nice, but he had a feeling that there was going to be a storm that night.

"Gonna get extra cold tonight."

"Want to come over and snuggle by the fire?" Ronan asked, and when Match hesitated added, "Uncle Rick bought a fancy new hot chocolate, it has cinnamon and cardamon and everything."

"Damn it," Match said in defeat.

He always felt awkward at their house, painfully out of place even after three months, but he liked their house, and Rick had a hot chocolate collection fit for the Palace of Versailles.

Ronan grinned in triumph, threw the car into gear, and headed off.

"Swing by your house to drop off your stuff, do anything with it that can't wait, then go to mine? My uncles are going out this evening, won't be home until like midnight…"

"You know my apartment doesn't have other people in it and you could fuck me there whenever you wanted, right?"

"I mean if you want to stay there a little longer before heading to mine…"

Match laughed.

"Nah, I'd rather wait for your much more spacious, infinitely less creaky bed.

Let me stash my flowers in the fridge and then we can go." As they pulled into the parking lot, he kissed Ronan quick.

"Wait here, I'll be five minutes."

"Kay."

Slinging his bag over one shoulder, he slammed the car door shut and jogged across the parking lot and up the stairs—and stopped as he saw a bright orange flyer taped to his door.

What the hell?

His heart dropped into his stomach as he got close enough to read the large, bolded EVICTION NOTICE across the top.

What the fucking fuck? He snatched the flyer off the door, stomach in knots now, bile burning the back of his throat.

He'd never missed a single rent payment in his life.

He didn't have anything illegal or against the rules. Ronan obviously hadn't moved in. He didn't make noise or have lots of people over or play loud music, he didn't even have anything that could play music like that. Or a TV.

Keeping an unauthorized pet.

He'd cleared the pixies.

Connell had said he could have them, had even said he'd add an actual clause for them when Match's lease was up for renewal in February.

Match had been content with the verbal approval because Connell was an old friend of his parents, he had no reason to mistrust him or demand it in writing sooner.

This made no sense.

Connell had never had a problem with his pixies before, why wouldn't he come talk to him first?

Folding the note up, he shoved it into his back pocket, unlocked the door, and hastily went about storing his flowers in the fridge, checking on the pixies and giving them some extra food because he probably wouldn't be home their normal feeding time, before hastening back to the car.

Whatever was going on, the office was closed for the day so there was nothing he could do until morning.

He would enjoy his night with Ronan, then go and see Connell first thing tomorrow morning.

Probably he'd just put it on the wrong door or something stupid like that. It was all that made sense.

Forcing his anxiety and worry away, determined not to bother Ronan or drag down their evening with whatever the hell this mess was, he mustered a smile as he slid back into the car.

"Miss me?"

"Always," Ronan replied easily and leaned over the center console to give a much more thorough kiss than the previous, nipping and licking and tasting, leaving Match shivery and achy in all the best ways.

Nobody kissed like Ronan, and after three months he was more certain than ever that he never wanted to kiss anyone else ever.

"Coffee and then my place?"

"Sounds perfect."

Smiling, Ronan drove off, humming idly in a way he never had before in all the years they'd known each other, except apparently he had always done it just not often around other people because growing up he'd been made fun of for it.

When they reached the coffee shop, Ronan parked and said, "You want anything to eat?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"Be right back then."

Once he was gone, Match pulled out the eviction notice, grimacing at the construction worker orange of the paper.

Why was that even necessary? What the hell?

What the fuck was he going to do? Despite three months of effort, the city council had not budged on increasing his pay.

Mostly they'd just been playing a long, tedious game of we need paperwork, we need more paperwork, oops we lost it all resubmit, we'll discuss it at the next meeting, we didn't get a chance, next time, so on and so forth.

Benny had said the matter was going to get decided soon, whether the assholes liked it or not, because he was done behaving, but what was he going to do? Threaten to quit if they didn't give Match more money? No way was Match letting anyone do something like that, not when Benny and Traci had three kids to raise and were so closely tied to this town and so many other reasons.

It wasn't worth it.

On the other hand, he'd never get a new place to live on what he made.

Thirty-eight thousand was certainly better than most made, but not in this expensive ass town where he'd never get anything for less than fourteen hundred a month, not unless he went for a studio that wouldn't have anywhere near enough room for all his tools and ingredients, nevermind his pixies.

Maybe it was time to just give up on that, sell the pixies to someone who actually had the money and space to care for them, even if the idea of losing them made him want to cry.

There was also his bike and all the costs that went with that, though he could sell the bike if he had to and just walk everywhere or ask the others for rides in a pinch.

Of course then he'd have to explain why he sold his bike, but that was a problem for later, because he'd avoid selling it for as long as possible.

The coffee shop door rang, Ronan striding through it, so he shoved the paper into his bookbag and forced the misery away once more.

Tomorrow, he could figure all of this out tomorrow.

"Smells like it's perfect."

Ronan laughed.

"How do you tell so quickly? But she knew it was for you, pretty boy, so she made those espressos with love and care."

"Oh, please.

Probably tried to give you her number."

"Nah, all you, no matter how hard you try to brush it off.

I keep telling you, this whole town talks about you.

You just don't notice 'cause you live in your head so much, or in the woods picking flowers."

"Yeah, yeah." Loved him so much they paid the bare minimum and were fighting desperately to keep it that way.

He knew how town gossip worked; Benny's ugly fight with the council and the reason for it would be all over town by now, but he hadn't heard a single peep of support from anyone, not even when he made his usual rounds to re-up wards and other protections.

The town fawned over the others, but no matter how surface-level friendly they were, people rarely ever fully trusted a witch.

When they reached Ronan's house, the shiny dark green SUV his uncles always drove despite having like three cars to choose from wasn't there.

"That's weird," Ronan said.

"I was just talking to them while you were in your apartment.

They said they'd be here. Uncle Rick wanted to show you some latest bit of wank on a gardening Facebook group he follows now. Can't tell you how delighted Uncle Phil is you got him back into growing their own herbs, let me tell you."

Match laughed.

"I didn't do it on purpose.

It's not like they didn't know I'm a hedge witch and herbs are like my whole thing.

You have to admit fresh herbs grown yourself always taste better than all the generic, mass produced stuff sold in stores."

"You're such a fucking hippy." Ronan climbed out of the car then circled it to open Match's door for him because he was an adorable dork.

"Come on, I wanna see why they aren't home and didn't text to tell me the change of plans.

Hopefully everything is okay."

Inside, everything was brightly lit and nothing was amiss.

There was a glass of wine at the dining room table, and a cocktail at the kitchen bar, so it looked like Phil had been chilling at the table talking while Rick worked in the kitchen.

Ingredients for some sort of pasta had been set out, so they'd planned on eating before heading out for their party.

But they hadn't left with any obvious urgency. "Well nobody was hurt that I can see."

"Oh, there's a note on the fridge," Ronan said, moving the cartoon onion magnet holding it in place.

"Ah, there was a caterer crisis for the party they're attending tonight, they went to help Marge put out fires and secure new food.

They could have just texted or called." He rolled his eyes, ditched the note, and turned his attention to the ingredients on the counter.

"Why was he going to make dinner when they were going out in a few hours anyway? Weirdos."

"They like feeding you, dumbass."

Ronan scoffed, but was smiling as he put everything away.

"You want the abandoned wine or the abandoned cocktail?"

"Cocktail." It looked like the cranberry spritzer thing they'd drunk a lot of over Christmas and New Year's, and the sprig of fresh rosemary must have come from the little pots of herbs kept over the kitchen sink now.

Normally they didn't grow so well in the midst of winter, obviously, but Match had helped them along just because Rick seemed so happy to have a little garden growing successfully after trying off and on over the years and always failing miserably.

His poor iced coffee he stashed in the fridge for later, before following Ronan out to the sunroom.

There was a little woodstove there that Ronan immediately set to work on.

Match left him to it, sprawling out on a bed-swing type thing that he'd loved right from the start, admiring the snowy backyard that, come spring, he'd promised to help Rick turn into a real, full-fledged garden.

Once the fire was going, Ronan stretched out on the bed.

"So Valentine's Day is in like two weeks.

Are we doing something fancy?"

"No, because everything will go terribly wrong somehow, I can feel it.

We'll plan a romantic dinner and wind up fighting the abominable snowman or something."

Ronan laughed but didn't argue, because they'd spent New Year's dealing with an entire nest of goblins running amuck in the city.

There'd been eighty-three of the bastards in total, and they'd slept maybe three hours over almost three days before they got them all.

"Well, keep the day available anyway, in case a good surprise happens."

"Noted." Match took another sip of his stolen cocktail then set it aside and sprawled out on the bed.

The sunroom was entirely glass on three sides, and the roof currently covered in snow.

A lot of snow, actually, given it hadn't been snowing much that day, just a light dusting off and on, like even winter was getting sick of winter.

Now, though, he couldn't see anything but snow, not even hints of sunlight beyond it.

"Does that seem strange to you."

Ronan kissed his throat, one hand sliding under his t-shirt.

"What, snow?"

"Even in the foothills we hiked there wasn't more than four inches on the ground and it was all a week old.

On our way back there was barely a hint of snow falling.

Now, fifteen minutes in your house, there's at least a whole inch of snow on that roof and it's practically white-out conditions."

"Maybe it fell off the trees? Or my uncles haven't bothered to sweep it off, I mean would you want to get a ladder out and fumble around cleaning a glass room you can't walk on? Whatever angle they built it at wasn't enough.

You said yourself it was probably going to storm tonight, maybe it's getting an early start.

Like I'm trying to do." Ronan turned his head and kissed him.

Delightful though kissing Ronan always was, the back of Match's neck was itching and after his fuck-up with that spell so many months ago, even if it had gotten him the boyfriend of his dreams, he wasn't going to screw up again.

"Stop a second," he said, pushing Ronan away.

"Do you really think there's a problem?" Ronan asked.

"I would not refuse to make out with you otherwise, trust me, though your uncles have probably fucked on this bed, so maybe not here."

Ronan looked physically ill.

"I sincerely hate you."

Smirking, Match kissed the corner of his mouth in apology then climbed off the bed and went to the door that led into the yard.

He'd barely opened it when the wind snatched it out of his hands, slamming it against the outside wall. "Fuck!"

"What the hell," Ronan said.

"There was zero wind while we were driving.

It's been dead all day.

Maybe you were right about an abominable snowman. Awesome. I love being thrown into trees."

"Abominations usually only affect a small radius, so unless it's in your yard, that's not it.

Sudden, dangerous snowstorms are more likely a snow witch or a jack frost."

"Oh, goodie.

I'll call Benny."