Three
MORGAN
I know I'm the kind of person who other people avoid. Something about me gives off the I'm completely unapproachable vibe. So I've never really had friends. Except my sisters.
Sirona is two years older than me, a healing witch who recently left Goode Witches to start her own clinic. Her boyfriend, Grant, is applying to medical residency programs to become a general practitioner, and he'll be joining her when he's done. He moved in with her a few weeks ago, and I'm positive there'll be another wedding to plan very soon.
I will not be planning that one.
Two years younger than me, Bronwen is a love witch. Unfortunately, thanks to a spell-gone-wrong when we were kids, she can't fall in love until Sirona and I do. Sirona is taken care of, and now it's my turn. Too bad I can't think of a single person of any gender that I'm remotely interested in.
As soon as I have the thought, Zach's face pops into my head. The way he was looking at me with his dark eyes at the cafe this morning. The way he seemed to be looking inside me.
A shiver runs down my spine.
This is all ridiculous. I might be unwillingly attracted to him, but I definitely am not going to fall in love with him. I don't know much about love, but I'm pretty sure you have to like the person at least a little bit before you can get to love.
"Here you go," Sirona says, setting three carefully balanced glasses of wine on the table. Bronwen follows with a platter full of various cheeses.
It's sisters' night out, with my cousin Lavender babysitting for Bronwen's one-year-old, Sabrina. The bar isn't too crowded right now, but there's a band playing later so I assume it'll fill up. I have no idea what band is playing, but I enjoy live music. Having cousins who are international rock stars will do that to a person. Plus, who can turn down the chance for a wine and cheese night and a live band?
Fortunately, Maria didn't come tonight. She respects that she's not welcome for sisters' night.
"To sisters," Bronwen says, raising her glass.
It's cheesy, but I humor her and raise my own glass. We clink them against each other, then take drinks.
"So how's the engagement party planning going?" Bronwen asks, a teasing gleam in her brown eyes.
It immediately puts me on alert. I've seen that look plenty of times. It always means trouble.
"Honestly? It's a major pain in my ass. Zach wants to do everything in this orderly, checklist, do everything he read on some website way."
"And that's driving you batty." Sirona's statement is not a question.
I shove my hands into my hair. "So much."
"For what it's worth, I think it's crappy that Mom and Gary are having you two plan the wedding," Sirona says. " Engagement party, sure. Give that to your maid of honor and best man. But not the whole wedding."
I tip my head toward her in acknowledgment. And agreement.
"I don't even have a location. For either." I feel like putting my head down on the table and pouting.
"I thought you told me this afternoon you're going to try to have the party at the winery." Bronwen takes a sip of her wine, then reaches for a cube of cheddar.
I completely forgot we'd agreed to that. "Oh, right. So I just need a venue for the wedding. And, you know, we have to contact the winery and see if they can have a party on short notice." That’s right, Zach’s doing that. I was so distracted by the tattoos on his forearms and the way the sun made his eyes shine, I was only half paying attention.
I don't begrudge my mom her happiness. Gary seems like a genuinely great guy—unlike his son. But this wedding is a major pain in my ass.
Sirona pats my shoulder like the nurturing older sister she is. "It'll all work out and Mom and Gary will be thrilled with whatever you put together."
I'm not convinced I agree with her, so I don't say anything.
"After this, you can start a wedding planning business." Bronwen grins at me, that damn twinkle still in her eyes.
"Why do you look like the cheshire cat who ate the canary?" I ask.
"That's two metaphors you're blending together there," she says.
I shrug and pop a thin slice of fresh mozzarella in my mouth. Delicious. Not too grainy, like mozzarella can be. I'm relatively certain Chessie, my youngest cousin, supplied all the cheese. She makes cheese both from scratch and by conjuring it. Regardless of how she gets it, it's always amazing .
My favorite are the varieties of goat cheese she makes using milk from Lavender's, who is her older sister, goats.
"You're ignoring the question."
"Yes, I am." Still grinning at me, she takes another sip of her wine.
I sigh. I love my sisters more than anything on earth. But sometimes I really hate them too. Especially Bronwen. Especially when she's like this.
Frustrated, I look around the bar to survey the other patrons. Maybe I know someone I can go talk to. Leave Sirona to deal with Bronwen's mischievous mood.
Instead of finding a friend, my eyes land on him. Zach.
He's changed since this morning, now wearing a white button-down shirt with the collar open and the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
My stomach drops, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. That look is like catnip for me, and my mouth actually fucking waters looking at him. His dark hair is down, falling around his shoulders. My fingers itch to run through it, find out if it's as silky smooth as it looks.
He's sitting with three other men, all roughly the same age as us. Though technically I have no idea how old Zach is. But he seems close to my 28. The other men are very nondescript, moderately attractive. Only one of the men at that table makes my pussy throb just seeing him.
He looks up, and like he can't help it, his gaze finds mine. Locks on mine, from half a room away. My pulse skips, then speeds up. My still-dropped stomach does summersaults.
From a look .
This is so damn unfair.
I force myself to turn away before I do something ridiculous like give him seduction eyes. Not that I even know how to do seduction eyes. They've never been a factor before, in any of the sex I've had .
When I turn my attention back to the table, Sirona looks curiously at me, and Bronwen is practically smirking.
"What?" I snap.
Fighting a smile, Sirona says, "Nothing."
"You want him so bad," Bronwen says.
"Yeah, right." I infuse my tone with sarcasm, but in reality, yeah, right, I do want him so bad. I'm not going to act on it, but the want is definitely there.
Bronwen shrugs. "So go for it. What harm is there in having a little get-it-out-of-your-systems fling?"
"One, he's going to be our stepbrother, so ew." I don't actually think it's ew. We're adults. It's not like we grew up in the same house.
"It's not like you grew up in the same house, like real siblings," Sirona echoes my thoughts.
"You said one ," Bronwen says. "So what's number two for your reasons?"
"He's the most infuriating person I've ever met and I can't stand him. I like to at least like someone a little before I go to bed with them." Never mind that I can just tell it would be amazing between us, I need to like someone before we have sex. And I definitely do not like Zach.
Bronwen shrugs. "Why? Have a hate fuck. Speaking from experience, they're pretty great."
I hold up a hand to stop her. "Did not need to know that about you." My little sister talks a little too freely about her sex life.
All mirth drops from her face. "Well maybe if you gave him half a chance, you could like him. Maybe even fall in love with him."
"Oh, that's what this is about," Sirona says. She sips her wine contemplatively.
I sigh. "I know, Bronwen, it sucks you still have to wait for me. I'm sorry."
The stupid curse we did when we were kids, me 13, my sisters 11 and 15, has been hanging over us for too long. And all these years, we thought only Sirona had to fall in love and then that was it, Bronwen and I were both free.
Only after Sirona fell in love with Grant over the summer did the deities let our grandma know they had decided there was more. Each of us has a lesson we need to learn, but we don't know what that lesson is until after it happens. Which is so helpful.
The deities can be real assholes sometimes.
Also, we have to fall in love in order. So now that Sirona is in love and learned that she needs to sometimes take care of herself and not just everyone else, I'm free to fall in love. But Bronwen, a damn love witch, still can't fall in love.
So not only do I have this pressure to actually find a person I can like, let alone love, I have to learn some lesson when I'm not sure what that lesson is.
And we live in a relatively small town where most everyone knows everyone else. Certainly everyone knows our family, since we're the biggest employer in town. Just about every family has some tie back to Goode Witches.
Do the deities expect me to do online dating? I shudder. I tried that once years ago and never again.
But how the hell else am I going to meet someone?
Absentmindedly sipping my drink, my gaze wanders over to Zach's table again. And once again, like he feels me watching him, he lifts his head and meets my eyes. The same physical reaction occurs, the visceral response my body always has to him. Since the first day he walked into my mom's house, when she introduced us to her new fiancée and his son.
My dislike of him was almost as instantaneous as my attraction to him. I can't explain why. It's not like he's the first surly person I've met. But something about him rubbed me the wrong way—even as I'd like him to rub me the right way .
No, bad thoughts. There will be no rubbing in any way with him.
I allow my attention to wander to the other three men with him. The one with thinning brown hair has a wedding ring, so he's out. One has neatly trimmed brown hair to match his neatly trimmed beard, and wire-rimmed glasses. He's not unattractive. Maybe I can get an introduction. The third man is bald, with a hint of stubble coming in. He, too, has wire-rimmed glasses.
"Speak of the devil," Bronwen says in a meaningful tone. She tosses a golden-brown curl out of her eyes, that annoying grin still on her face.
Sirona turns to look behind her. "Oh, hey. Zach's here." She, too, gives me a look I have a sudden urge to slap off her face.
I just stare back at them, expression bored. "So?"
"Maybe one of his friends likes grumpy women," Bronwen says.
I hold up my middle finger in her direction.
Sirona makes an odd "murmph" sound. She holds up the white cheese she's just bitten in half. "Ohmuguh," she says because she has a mouthful. "Is so goo."
Bronwen reaches for a slice of the same cheese, and I figure I might as well too.
Sirona's right, it's amazing. Sharp and creamy, with a hint of rosemary.
"I need to get more of this from Cheesy," Bronwen says.
When my cousins Lavender and Honey were little and Chessie was born, neither could pronounce Chessie. So she got nicknamed Cheesy. She hates it, which just means we all use it more to annoy her.
Ah, family.
I take another visual perusal of the bar. There's a group of four women, one in a sash that says "Bride." They're loud and giggling, which, good for them. But it's not my type. Even if one of them does have tits to die for.
Around us, the music dims.
Sirona wiggles in her seat, gathering her red hair behind her shoulders. "Ooh, five minutes until they start. I've never heard of the BioRhythmics before."
"The bar's website said they're mostly a cover band," Bronwen says. "Should be fun."
Or it could be torture, if they're no good and they mangle perfectly good songs. But I'll do my best to keep an open mind.
Bronwen puts her hand over my wrist, where it's laying on the table. "By the way, before the music starts, I just want to let you know something."
Dread bands around my torso. The way she's been acting tonight, this can only be trouble. Clenching my jaw, I just raise my eyebrows and wait for her to continue.
She makes her I'm-so-cute-you-can't-be-mad-at-me face that only youngest sisters can pull off.
"So, I might have maybe put just a teensy-weensy love spell on you. And Zach."
I'm going to kill her.
ZACH
The Mystic Pint on a Saturday night is usually one of my favorite places to be. My bandmates and I come and relax and hang out, even if we're not playing.
But tonight, I'm antsy. I can't relax. Not with her here.
How on earth can I be so desperate to get someone in my bed who I can't stand, on basic moral principles. Her family is conning people all over the world with their pretend-magic business. And she's a willing participant, pretending she can talk to ghosts.
But that doesn't stop me fantasizing about burying my face in her hair while I fuck her until neither of us can move.
Shit. I do not need to be thinking about that while sitting in a bar with my friends. Even though we're all single, except Juan, our keyboard player, Eric and Frank aren't my type. Plus, I don't want to date anyone I work as closely with as I do these guys. And they’re both straight.
We all work in the same division at OmniGenTech, and we formed this band about a year ago, when we discovered we all played complimentary instruments. We've never played farther away than a church festival two towns over. It's just for fun.
"Hey, dude, you even with us?" Eric scratches his beard as he waves his other hand in front of me to get my attention. He plays guitar and is our vocalist. The rest of us sometimes chime in on backup vocals, but he's the only one of us who can sing well enough to front the band.
"Yeah, sorry. Spaced out."
Frank, the bassist, turns around to see where I was staring. "Ooooooh, I see. They are all pretty cute." He turns back to the table and takes a gulp from his pint glass. We decided not to do the wine and cheese special tonight.
Thought watching Morgan bite into some of those pieces of cheese, then watching the pure bliss on her face as she tastes them, isn't without its pleasures. I want to make her make that same blissful expression.
"You know them?" Juan asks.
I close my eyes for a long moment. I don't usually talk much about my personal life, even with these guys. They're friends, but not deep confidant level friends.
When I open them again, I say, "Yeah, my dad is marrying their mom the day after Halloween. "
Eric chuckles while Frank gives me a meaningful look I don't know how to interpret. Juan just nods.
I sigh. "I'm the best man, and the one with the black sweater on is the maid of honor. And for reasons I don't understand, my dad and her mom have decided to make us plan the wedding instead of them."
"Whoa," Juan says. "That's a lot. And you said Halloween? Damn. Good thing you got the Goode sisters to help. They can use their magic somehow to speed up the process, I'd think. It took Carla over a year to plan our wedding."
I hate how deeply embedded into our culture the acceptance of magic is. Even a logical, rational, educated scientist like Juan believes in it. And I don't get it. The things they claim they can do don't follow natural law.
The lights in the bar dim, signaling that it's five minutes until we're due to take the stage.
"Good luck, dude." Eric drains the last of his beer, set the glass on the table, and stands. "Shall we?"
We all head to the small room off to the side of the stage that functions as the backstage area. My drums are already set up on the stage, so all I need is to grab my sticks. And get focused. We may not be superstars, but we take our performances seriously.
It's a warm night, and the air in the bar is stale and muggy. Add in the exertion of drumming for an hour, and I'm going to be nasty after the show.
Ah, hell with it.
I take off my shirt and toss it on the armchair in the corner. This way I'll at least have something clean to wear home.
I am not in any way going shirtless because I want Morgan to see my chest. Not a factor at all.
Frank claps me on the shoulder as he walks by with his bass guitar in the other hand. "Ready?"
I follow him out of the room. "Always ready."
We do the same routine before every show, enough now that it's a tradition we're both superstitious enough not to skip. Not that I believe in silly things like that. But it's a nice routine.
I sit down on my stool while the others take their places in front of me. I tap a few different drums with my sticks, testing them. I hold the cymbal with one hand and tap it with the stick in the other. I use the foot pedal to tap the bass drum.
I roll my shoulders, then my neck. My low ponytail tickles my back, a sensation I find very pleasant. It's one reason I keep my hair long. Also, I just like it.
I glance past my set, out to the bar, surveying the crowd. But I'm definitely not looking for Morgan.
Their booth is off to the side, anyway, so I can't see them. I ignore the disappointment tugging at my chest. I don't care if she pays attention to us or not.
Liar .
I ignore my inner voice. It's time to put everything else out of my head and let the music take over. When I play, the sticks become an extension of my arms. And I barely have to think. It all becomes instinct.
The stage lights come up, and a smattering of applause moves through the bar.
"Good evening," Eric says into the microphone. "Thanks for coming out tonight. We are the BioRhythmics, which basically means we're a bunch of biotech engineers who also happen to play instruments."
Juan strikes a chord on his keyboard.
"We're mostly covers, so if there's a song you desperately want, let us know and we'll most likely be able to play it for you."
A few more people clap, and someone from the bachelorette party lets out a whoop!
"We're gonna start you out staying nice and local. I'm sure most of you know this one."
I tap out one-two-three-four on the edge of one of my snares, and then we start. The music takes over and I'm lost in my own world, one where nothing but the rhythm can touch me.