Chapter Twenty-Seven
You’ve Got a Little Something…There
Bellamy
Ididn’t expect him to stick around all day or to follow me to the shop after the whole kitchen fiasco.
What I didn’t expect even more was him sitting quietly in the corner of my shop, in the same seat as before, reading a book on Charms as if it’s completely normal for a wolf to read about magic spells.
He’s even got a little notebook and a pen and is he…
taking notes? I watch in fascination as he flips it open again and scratches down another sentence before he resumes his reading.
Now I’m curious what his notes are? What is so fascinating to him that it inspired him to write it down to remember it?
I mean I know what a witch would write down, and even the type of notes that we would take.
But a wolf who can’t perform the spells?
I don’t wait to ask his permission or even ask him.
I walk behind the chair and watch his finger roam across the page as he reads along.
Again, he flips the notebook open and writes something down.
It’s now or never. I reach over and snatch the notebook from him as he’s closing it again.
Despite his protests, I flip it open to the notes that he’s taking. And I’m shocked.
1. Charms = not hexes. Hexes = Bellamy mad. So does that mean charms is Bellamy happy?
2. Intent matters. Does my intent to kiss her count as magic? (Will need to revisit this)
3. Tools needed: candles, herbs, sometimes crystals. It says I need offerings. Does cinnamon rolls count? yes?
4. Protection Charms are basically magical guard dogs. (Note: she won’t need one of these since I’m a guard dog. Clearly this is covered…by me.)
5. Healing charms are the magical equivalent of bandaids. I use wolf snuggles. Same thing?
That is the cutest, most Miles thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think anyone has ever taken notes like this while reading any of the witch textbooks.
I snap the notebook shut, pressing it against my chest. Jerking out of the way every time he reaches for it. “This is what you’ve been writing all day?”
Miles, whose cheeks are a deep shade of red, reaches again for it, without making eye contact with me. “Those are private notes, Trouble. Give it back.”
“Private?” I arch a brow. “You wrote down that cinnamon rolls are equivalent to offerings.”
“Um, they do count,” he insists, the beginning of a smile shyly showing. “I bet Maisie would back me up if I asked her!”
I shake my head, trying with all my inner strength to not smile. “And wolf snuggles being the equivalent of a healing charm?”
I watch in fascination as the blush spreads from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Hmm, what is flustering him?
He attempts to recover by puffing out his chest. “What? You haven’t tried it yet.
” He huffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Scientific method says you can’t dismiss a hypothesis until it’s tested.
So until you try snuggling with me, you can’t in fact claim they aren’t healing.
” He even throws his nose up into the air, closing his eyes, in a full blown attitude.
Okay, but that is too cute. His freckles stand out even darker against the deep blush, pink hair glitters against the chandelier light above, and round glasses reflect the fire that’s dancing behind us. He’s adorable.
His long dark lashes flick open as those beautiful hazel eyes stare up at me, waiting for me.
He’s thrown me a rope, am I going to take it?
My throat goes dry. I can feel my body tense as I consider it.
Consider giving into the tormenting thoughts running through my mind, of exactly what cuddling with Miles on the couch after a long day will feel like.
If his cuddles will really heal my heart like he claims.
My lips part but nothing comes out. I’ve never been at a loss for words until now. Never felt so many things at one time.
I snap the notebook open again, hoping to distract myself. But instead all I see are cuddles, healing, and kisses. My chest aches with a yearning I’ve never had before.
I shove the notebook into his lap, flip my hair over my shoulder, and try my damnedest to pretend everything is fine. “Your theory on wolf cuddles is flawed. No amount of cuddling can heal a wound, even the deep ones.”
Miles smirks, like he knows exactly what thoughts are running through my mind. Maybe he does? Who even knows how this mate bond thing works. Not me, that’s who.
“Seems we might need to run some experiments,” he purrs as he runs a finger down the back of my arm.
I jerk my arm away from him, giving him my best scowl before I storm back off to my cauldron, grimoire, and normalcy.
I’ll just bury myself in making these charms one of my customers had requested. That should keep my mind focused on anything other than the wolf with a sweet smile sitting only a few feet from me.
It works for a little bit, but every noise, every hum, and every shift of his body snaps my eyes back up to him.
I’m elbow deep in scooping out the charm I’ve been working on when he stands and stretches.
His shirt lifts to show a dark patch of hair disappearing beneath his belt.
I can’t help but stare at it, wondering what would happen if I followed it.
Shaking my head, attempting to dislodge the trail of my thoughts, I snap my eyes back to my task at hand. No more wolves.
He walks up behind me, his hand trailing up my back, ever so lightly as he comes to a stop beside me. My entire body shivers as the tingles running down me clash against the heat of his body.
“I’m going to head out, but I’ll be back.” He smiles as he leans over and kisses my hair, which seems to be his favorite thing to do.
I just nod my head, biting my lips between my teeth. My eyes follow him as he walks through my shop with a familiarity only I have with this place. Before he closes the door, he smirks over his shoulder.
“Try not to start another generational curse while I’m gone.”
I screech and throw a turnip at him that pings off the door and not his head like I’d intended.
Damnit! With the shop clear, I’m determined to get work done. Since he’s not here, surely I can focus on the task at hand, right?
Wrong.
Every few moments my eyes drag back towards the door, wondering where in the world he went to and if he’s even going to come back. If a shadow crosses the door, I lurch in anticipation.
Grr! I’m not getting anything done! Never in my life! If this is what life is going to be like, I’ll never be able to take customers anymore! Who would want to work with someone who can’t seem to stop thinking about her mate for five minutes!
That’s it, I’m just going to go find him. Clearly, work is shot for the day…maybe my future at this rate. I slam my book shut and turn off the burner under my cauldron. I swing my way around my table, ready to stomp through town on a hunt for a wolf when the door flies open by said wolf.
His arms are full with various paper bags, two trays of drinks, and is that a scone in a bag gripped between his teeth? Who is this man feeding? A small army of wolves?
I’m standing there with my mouth gaped open when he blinks his eyes at me. Smiling the best he can with the bag between his teeth.
“Hey Trouble!” he mumbles around the bag.
“Miles? What is all of this?”
“Lunch!” he says excitedly as he makes his way to his chair. When did I start considering it his chair?
“Who are you feeding? Is there a group of people coming?”
“Nope! It’s all for the two of us. See Maisie said a hungry witch is scarier than a generational curse. So I’m under strict orders to feed you. But since…you’ve never told me your favorite food…I just got one of everything Hex & Harken had to offer. Figure at least one of these will be a favorite.”
I sit down in the chair next to him, not sure how to react or respond. Not that he notices as he starts taking all the items out of the bags. Popping open the styrofoam containers, displaying the food in front of me.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he got one of every menu item.
But I know the second he opens mine, the smell of caramelized onions, melted cheese, and warm bread fill my nose.
The Hex Melt, Hex & Harken’s take on the human patty melt.
Clarissa puts garlic butter on the bread before she toasts it. So delicious.
I snatch it quickly, not giving him a chance to pick it. He laughs as he holds his hands up in surrender.
“Alright, alright. Don’t bite my hand. You can have that one,” he says with a chuckle as he picks up the Pumpkinridge Club.
We eat in silence, not the kind that feels like it needs to be filled with words, but the kind that is two souls enjoying the presence of the other.
For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I need to be someone for anyone, there isn’t an urge to keep my walls up, to push him away.
I watch him as he eats, peacefully enjoying himself, humming as he goes. I wonder what it’s like to be so carefree and relaxed?
Is this what my future looks like? Casual, peaceful lunches where I actually look forward to them?
His hazel eyes flick up, catching me watching him. The corner of his lips tilt up, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking about.
“What,” I snap a little too defensively as I pick up my sandwich.
He hums around the bite of his own sandwich as he watches me. “Nothing, I’m just wondering if this will be part of our daily lives going forward.”
I choke on the sandwich as his words hit me in the chest. Right in my heart, that wasn’t prepared for it. Did he read my mind? I check my mental walls, and they are intact as always.
“Don’t,” I threaten as I pick up my French fry, “don’t get all sappy on me, Dog Boy.”
He holds his hands up in surrender as he leans back in his chair. “I’m just saying I only had to worry about my fingers when it came to your sandwich selection. Which, noted.”