Chapter 12
Honestly, Gunnar’s first thought had caused him to panic. Because after tasting that cake, which was literally the best sweet thing he’d ever eaten, his first thought had been he could marry a woman who baked like that.
Marry.
The very idea had frozen him for a second. Then his brain had reengaged and he’d realized Mattie was a witch. Of course, she could make a cake that could cause him to feel that way.
She wanted him to like her, to be swayed into making his wishes so she could get her imp back.
Well, she was going to get her imp back. There was no question about that. And he did sort of like her. Hard not to like a woman who made a cake that good—wait. Was that her magic at work again?
Except she hadn’t made up the part about liking Time Traveling Accountant. She was clearly a fan. So that much was real.
He felt oddly confused. But he was having a nice evening. And since he was aware that she might be using witchcraft to sway him, he was okay with her sticking around. At least she wasn’t being blatant about it.
She was still watching him. “Do you mind if I give Blueberry a slice? Sugar makes him happy, and after he eats it, he’ll probably fall sleep for a good while. That’s kind of why I made the cake. For you but also so you’d have something to feed him that would help him chill out.”
Gunnar’s brows rose. “You made the cake to keep the imp happy?”
“Sort of. Because I thought it would help you.”
“Oh.” Did that mean there wasn’t any witchcraft involved? He ate another bite. Could it actually taste that good without magic?
“So … you all right with me giving him some?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
She plated a third piece, added forks, then took her plate and the one for Blueberry back to the living room.
Gunnar followed.
As soon as Blueberry saw the cake, he started jumping on the couch cushion.
Mattie stopped in front of the coffee table. “Absolutely not. I’m not putting this plate down with you jumping all over the place. You’ll knock the cake onto the floor and make a mess. I guess I’ll take it back to the kitchen.”
Blueberry immediately sat down and tucked his hands under his legs, mouth closed.
A fair amount of awe filled Gunnar. That had to be witchcraft.
“Much better,” Mattie said. She set the plate and fork on the towel in front of Blueberry.
“Thank you,” he said. He inched forward until he reached the plate, then stood up and carefully used the fork to slice off a smaller piece of cake. Which he then ate with his hands.
Gunnar took his seat. He didn’t mind. The imp was on a towel, and it wasn’t like Gunnar had a smaller fork. He grabbed the remote and started the show again.
He tried to eat slowly and savor what was left of the cake on his plate, but it went down too easily. If Mattie hadn’t been here, he would have gone for a second piece. And quite possibly a third.
Blueberry was licking the last of the crumbs and icing off his plate. For once, Gunnar completely identified with the imp.
Mattie finished her last bite a moment later. She put her plate on the coffee table and settled back to watch the rest of the show.
“You think it’s the chieftain?” she asked.
“That’s guilty? No way,” Gunnar said. “It’s that healer woman.”
“What?” Mattie gave him an incredulous look. “Not a chance.”
As the climax rolled around, it was indeed the healer. Mattie laughed. “I suck at figuring out the killer.”
A soft snore interrupted her. Gunnar paused the show before the next episode could start. They both looked at Blueberry, who was flat on his back, mouth open, passed out asleep.
“Told you,” Mattie whispered. She picked up his plate, hers, and then grabbed Gunnar’s and took them into the kitchen.
When she came back to her seat, she smiled at the imp, then turned her attention to Gunnar. “Do you want to talk about the wishes?”
He was in a good mood and inclined to talk about anything. “Sure.”
“Okay.” Mattie tucked one leg under her on the couch, facing him more fully.
The light from the lamp on the table next to him caught her eyes, turning them into a rich brown.
“First rule: Be super specific. Blueberry’s a chaos imp, so he’ll use any opening to create some.
If you say ‘I wish for peace,’ he might make you deaf.
Or turn the whole town mute. Literally.”
Gunnar nodded slowly, arms crossed over his chest. “Like the way he became invisible when I wished he’d disappear.”
“Exactly. The second thing is avoid negatives. Don’t say ‘I don’t want’ or ‘stop this’ or anything like that. He’ll only twist it into the opposite or something worse. Say what you do want instead.”
“Be direct. Got it.”
“Third—and this is the big one—think about the consequences. Really think. A wish that sounds perfect in the moment can snowball into a mess you didn’t see coming. Like wishing for money and ending up buried under a mountain of cash. Blueberry loves a good loophole.”
Gunnar grunted. “He’s already proven that.”
Mattie smiled softly. She looked a little tired, and Gunnar wondered if it was getting late for her. “Yeah. He’s a little enthusiastic about granting wishes. But he’s also bound by the rules. If you phrase it right, he has to deliver exactly what you ask for. No tricks. Well, fewer tricks.”
She glanced at Blueberry again, making Gunnar look too. The imp was still out cold, tiny chest rising and falling, one wing draped over his face like a blanket.
“He looks peaceful,” she said quietly. “Sugar coma. Best kind.”
Gunnar watched her for a second longer than he meant to.
The cabin felt warmer than usual. Smaller, somehow.
The TV screen glowed in the dim room, paused on the credits.
Outside, the woods were quiet, not even a hint of wind.
And this far from town, there was no distant traffic, no tourist noise.
Just the faint hum of crickets through the side window he’d left cracked for fresh air.
He shifted, suddenly aware of how close she was sitting. Just a few feet away on the couch. Close enough he could smell the faint honey and vanilla of her skin. Probably from the cake.
Probably.
“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” he said.
“I’ve had to. Blueberry’s been mine since a woman named Jayne Frost set him free. I’ve learned the hard way what happens when you’re sloppy with words around him.”
Gunnar rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not great with words. Never have been.”
“You’re doing fine right now.”
He snorted out a small laugh. “Low bar.”
She smiled again, and something inside him got uncomfortably warm. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Or maybe he did. That was the problem.
Blueberry let out a tiny, contented snuffle in his sleep.
Gunnar glanced at the imp, then back at Mattie.
The evening had stretched longer than he’d expected, and he wasn’t ready for it to end.
Not yet. He didn’t want her to notice the time, and he didn’t want any interruptions.
Not a single reason for her to leave and take the strange, warm feeling in the room with her.
This was one of the nicest nights he’d had in a long time.
He spoke before he could overthink what he was feeling, keeping his voice low. “I wish we could just stay here and figure this out without any interruptions.”
The words hung in the air for half a heartbeat.
Mattie’s eyes widened slightly as she inhaled.
Blueberry’s snore cut off. One emerald-green lid lifted.
“Granted,” the imp murmured, sleepy but delighted.
A soft shimmer rolled through the cabin like warm honey spilling from a jar. The lights dimmed a fraction, then steadied. The TV flickered once before the picture was right again. Outside, the crickets went quiet.
Gunnar frowned as he sat forward. “What just happened?”
“I’m afraid to say, but I think I know.” Mattie stood up slowly and walked to the front door. She turned the knob and pulled. Nothing. The door didn’t budge. She tried the deadbolt.
“It’s not locked,” he said.
“Might as well be.” She went to the window beside it and attempted to lift it but couldn’t. She went to the open window and tried to reach through, but her hand went no farther than the frame.
She pulled out her phone, looked at the screen, and shook her head. “No service.”
He got up and tried the door himself. He couldn’t open it either. He checked his phone too. Nothing. They were locked in tight, like the house had decided to wall them off from the world. He let out a low, frustrated growl. “You have got to be kidding me.”
She turned back to him, her expression somewhere between amusement and resignation. “You said ‘we.’ And ‘stay here.’ And ‘no interruptions.’ You get what I’m saying?”
“Yeah, I get it.” This was Gunnar’s fault. He glared at Blueberry, who was now sitting up, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “I just don’t believe it.”
“I do,” Mattie said.
He stabbed his finger at the imp. “You were supposed to be asleep.”
Blueberry yawned theatrically and stretched his wings. “I was just very relaxed. But a wish is a wish. And that was a beautiful one. Very heartfelt.”
Gunnar’s fists clenched. The imp was nothing but trouble. Even when he was supposed to be asleep.
Mattie crossed her arms as she faced Blueberry. “How long are we in here for?”
Blueberry floated up to hover between them. “Until you figure it out. Whatever ‘it’ is. Could be tomorrow. Could be next week. Could be forever if you two keep dancing around the obvious.”
Gunnar’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” Blueberry said, doing a little twirl. “Also romantic. I’m basically Cupid with better wings.” He tucked his hands under his chin and fluttered his lashes.
“No, he’s right, Blue. This isn’t funny.” Mattie sighed, but even as she did that, there was a small, reluctant smile tugging at her mouth. “Well. Seems like we’ve got time to talk now.”
Gunnar looked from the imp to the door that wouldn’t open, then to Mattie standing there in his living room. He rubbed a hand over his face, doing his best not to get angry. Angrier. After all, he’d said the words.
And right after Mattie had stressed how important it was to be careful.
“Great,” he grumbled. “Just great. I’ve got work tomorrow. Unless the imp has paused time, too. Blueberry? Did you also pause time?”
The imp was suspiciously gone.
“He might have,” Mattie answered. “Then again …”
Gunnar growled softly. But deep down, in the part of him that wasn’t completely irritated, a tiny, traitorous voice whispered that maybe being stuck in his house with a beautiful woman and plenty of supplies wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.