Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
The good thing about having a fake boyfriend who is a giant and built like a brick house is it deters my handsy cousin from his usual creepy behaviour. In fact, for the first time since I met him a couple of years ago, he behaves like an actual gentleman who has a wife.
The downside is being required to gaze hopelessly from the other side of the table as my fake boyfriend swerves my mum’s usual inquisition with charm and humour and then turns to my sister Tiggie on his other side and charms her too.
Honestly, how the hex did Tiggie end up next to my supposed boyfriend and not me?
And why am I feeling so jealous about it?
I’ve been used to Horatio’s undivided attention for the last few days and I realise how special that has been – how special that has made me feel.
But maybe my sister and my cousin are correct.
Dating someone like Horatio for real would be one constant battle with my own jealousy and internal insecurities.
After all, he’s bound to have girls hitting on him all the time.
I saw away at my steak as my sister tips back her head and titters at something Horatio has said.
She’s much more his type – tall, willowy, model looks with a fashion-taste that matches his own sense of style.
They’d make much more sense as a couple.
Maybe once this potion has been reversed, I ought to set them up for real.
A sense of sadness sweeps through me, and I lower my knife and fork and push my plate to one side.
Almost immediately it’s whipped up into the air and floats away and more wine is added to my nearly empty glass.
I take a sip and glance back up the table to find Horatio watching me.
When his gaze meets mine, he smiles and those butterflies respond immediately as if he has them trained.
I manage a wobbly smile back and he winks at me before re-engaging in conversation with my uncle across the table.
“I think he really likes you, Molly,” Prim says from next to me, leaning in so the others around us can’t hear. “It’s like you’ve bewitched him or something.”
“Wh-what?!” I gasp, nearly spitting out my wine for the second time this evening, ice-cold fear descending my spine. Am I that obvious? Has my sister worked it all out? Is she about to arrest me in front of all my family?
“He clearly likes you a lot,” she says so sweetly I realise she doesn’t seriously think I’ve bewitched him. My shoulders relax. “He can’t keep his eyes off you.”
“Or Tiggie,” I say a little more bitterly than I intended.
“Oh, Horatio’s just being polite and Tiggie flirts with everyone, you know that. Have you spoken to her tonight?”
“Not really,” I admit.
“She’s totally heartbroken over this thing with the vampire.”
“And on the rebound,” I mutter.
“I don’t think so,” my sister says seriously, “she’s pretty desperate to make things work between them but you know how things are between vampires and witches.”
“The old prejudices?”
My older sister nods gravely and I feel guilty about thinking ill of my younger sister, especially when, on closer inspection, I can see her smiles are looking pretty fragile.
“Well, at least one of you is happy,” my sister says.
“For now,” I mutter.
“What do you mean?” she says, her brow wrinkling.
“I mean look at him, Prim,” I gesture in Horatio’s direction, “it’s not likely to last.”
“You shouldn’t listen to Cousin Eva,” Prim whispers, “just because she married a jerk, doesn’t mean every man is a cheat.”
“I know. I just think he’ll eventually wake up and realise I’m not the girl for him,” I say thinking that point will come sooner than my sister could imagine – e.g., when he drinks that antidote.
“Of course, he won’t. You’re gorgeous, Molly, and funny and clever and quirky.”
I can’t help laughing because we all know what quirky means – bonkers, unhinged, unstable, and not capable of running her own life.
“I’m serious,” my sister says.
“Clever?” I reply. “I didn’t finish the academy.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not clever. Some people aren’t made for rules and structure. They need freedom and spontaneity and a chance to be themselves!” she says glancing down the table towards Norman who is once again more engaged in his phone than the conversation around him.
“Are we still talking about me, or you?”
“Oh,” she says, suddenly very interested in the chocolate monstrosity that’s appeared in bowls in front of us.
I pick up my spoon and am about to make quick work of the tower of chocolate when someone taps me on the shoulder.
I find Tiggie hovering behind me. “I thought you might want to swap seats. He’s been staring longingly at you all night.” She plants a kiss on my cheek. “He’s lovely, Molly. Perfect for you. Don’t let him get away.”
I wonder what she can mean by that as we swap seats and I settle into the one next to Horatio. I am more than aware of all of Horatio’s assets – his good looks, his good job, his good social skills, even (much to my surprise) his good sense of humour. But we’re very different people, aren’t we?
I like rock. He likes jazz. I like lie-ins; he likes early morning trips to the gym. He likes neat and tidy; I’ve never achieved neat and tidy in my life. He follows the rules and I break them.
How could we possibly be perfect for each other?
He wraps his arm around the back of my chair as he listens to my uncle explaining to him how charming spells can be particularly useful when fishing, and I consider just how natural, and perfect, that arm feels.
When it’s clear my uncle is not going to take a break from his nonstop monologue, I lean in closer to Horatio and whisper,
“I’m sorry, but once you get him started, it’s really hard to get him to stop.”
“It’s fine,” he tells me, “it’s actually interesting. I’m learning a lot about the supernatural world.” He points to his pudding. “Do you want mine?”
“You don’t want it?”
He shrugs. “You seemed to be enjoying yours so I thought you might like mine too.”
I don’t wait to be asked twice, I tuck in, and we both listen to my uncle’s explanation about worms, maggots, and bait.
After that, I decide extreme measures are required and inform my uncle that we need to go find McGruff who has been suspiciously absent from dinner.
“Molly, don’t go far. We’re going to start a game of charades soon!” my mum calls after us as we leave the table.
“Okay,” I say grimacing, leaving my heels under my chair and venturing outside barefoot.
When the two of us step out into the cool night air, I take a deep sigh of relief.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
“For what?” he asks.
“My family in general. I know they can be a lot. And for asking you to do this. In hindsight, it would probably be kinder if I had been luring you here for a human sacrifice.”
“I’m still unconvinced that the human sacrifice is off the cards. I was asked by at least three different members of your family for my weight and height details which I assume are necessary for the ceremony,” he says.
I giggle, planting my face into my palm. “Why can’t they behave like civilised human beings?”
“Molly, your family is fine. No different from any other family and,” he plunges his hands into his pockets, “a lot more sane than mine.”
“Merlin’s nipple ring, yours must be totally coo-coo then.”
He doesn’t answer me, instead peering into the darkness. “Where is that chaperone?”
“Probably terrorising unsuspecting squirrels somewhere.” I cup my hands around my mouth and call his name, getting nothing in response. I turn back to Horatio, shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders. “Sometimes I think that little munchkin is more monkey than dog.”
“Well,” Horatio says, removing his hands from his pockets and taking a step towards me, “your chaperone better show up soon, otherwise the temptation to kiss you is going to be too much.”
On cue, those damn butterflies start swooning about in my belly.
“That would be one big violation of the contract,” I point out.
“You can sue me,” he says, “it would be worth it.”
“It would?” I say, a little dazed by this conversation, by the scent of him in the evening’s air and the proximity of him, his lips wet, his eyes dark.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that afternoon.” One side of his mouth lifts in a very sexy half-smirk. “It’s the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on in a long time.”
“I think it was the most fun I’ve had in a long time full stop,” I admit.
“We could ditch the contract,” he says, gaze falling to my mouth.
“It was only a guide anyway.”
“It wasn’t witnessed. It would never stand up in court.”
He leans towards me and I tip back my head. My eyes flutter shut.
But instead of his warm mouth meeting mine, I feel a wet tongue slurp up my shin.
“What the–!” I yelp, jumping to one side, eyes flying open.
McGruff sits at my feet, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, looking exceedingly pleased with himself.
“Jesus Christ! What is that stink?” Horatio yells, pinching his nose and jumping away from us both.
I pinch my nose too and glare at McGruff. “Fox poo!” I say. “I take it back. You’re not a munchkin or a monkey, you’re a gremlin!”
“He smells awful. How the hell do we get rid of it? Don’t we need to bathe him in ketchup or something?”
“No, there’s a spell.”
“Great, then please use it,” he says, tears streaming down his face.
“I don’t know it. I’ll need to find my aunt. She’s a witch who specialises in veterinary medicine.”
Horatio lunges at McGruff and grabs him by the collar. “Molly, go quickly, please!”
Ten minutes later, the whole of my family is gathered on the patio at the rear of the hotel and my aunt is firing spells at McGruff as my mum bemoans his existence. McGruff doesn’t seem to care. In fact, he seems to be enjoying the attention.
“It’s just what dogs do,” I tell my mum.
“I think he was just proving his worth as a chaperone,” Horatio whispers to me.
“I told him to behave,” my mum says, glaring daggers at the dog. “And I think I now smell of the stuff too.”