Chapter 12
12
W hat do I care if Devlin doesn’t want to be with me? I don’t, because I don’t want to be with him either. He destroyed me in high school. Yes, I know that I’m beating a dead horse, but sometimes I just want to keep beating it until it’s dust.
So why is it bothering me so much what I overheard him say to Hands? That he’ll never be with me again? And why does my chest ache now?
It doesn’t matter. I hate him, too. We’re only doing this whole stupid me-living-with-him thing so that I can be with Storm. That’s it. End of story.
The ride over to my house (yes, Devlin wanted to drive, so I insisted we park a good block away so that no one would see us get out of a car together), I’m silent. So silent.
He’s not talking, either, which is no surprise since he doesn’t want to be with me.
I’ve got to stop thinking about this.
Fine. I will. It will be easy.
It’s just that last night, when he opened up about his parents, I felt a connection with him. Yes, it was unwanted, but it was still there, and I thought that maybe, maybe Devlin isn’t who I’ve been thinking he is.
Well that went up in smoke this morning. First thing.
Thank the gods it did, because I need to be focused on Storm Grayson. Beautiful Storm Grayson, the man of my dreams.
The garden is brimming with people when we arrive. Someone has spelled the area to block out the cold and make it feel like a late spring day. I peel off the coat I’m wearing and toss it onto a bench.
After that I spot Chatty Cathy and her hoard of minions, so I steer clear and go find my sisters.
Chelsea and Dallas are lugging out a set of mallets and hoops.
Chelsea sees me and smiles. “Be glad that you’re not at the house. Nana was trying her fiercest to watch the game.”
“But Ovie and Mama both said no,” Dallas says with a sigh. “However, I fully expect Nana to escape and wind up hanging out in a magnolia tree.”
I glance up, suddenly worried that my grandmother will swoop down and startle the guests, revealing herself, and then everyone will know that she’s haunting us.
I can see it in the Castleview Gazette now—FAMILY MATRON RETURNS TO SAVE GRANDDAUGHTER FROM SPINSTERHOOD. ALSO AT RISK—FAMILY’S FAILING MAGIC.
No one will care about the magic. All they’ll see is a spirit haunting us to death.
Chelsea drops the spell ball set onto the grass and brushes off her hands. “Yep. Keep an eye out. You never know what that dead lady’s bound to do. But now that you’re here”—her eyes sparkle in a way that I don’t like—“what’s going on with Devlin?”
“Oh, um, nothing.”
Dallas smirks. “Doesn’t look like nothing. He’s staring at you.”
I whip around, but Devlin’s turned away. Good. He doesn’t need to look at anything that he doesn’t want.
“Nothing is going on,” I say sternly to end the conversation. “He needs help with something, and I’m helping him. That’s pretty much it. Oh, and he has my power, too, so I’m ultimately keeping the women of our town safe by making sure that he doesn’t influence them into his bed.”
“There are worse things than winding up in Devlin Ross’s bed,” Dallas says.
Chelsea laughs.
My face burns hot. “No, there aren’t. He’s an awful, terrible person. Trust me, I’m saving lives here. And a lot of them. Lives of women who will be thanking me subconsciously even if they don’t know consciously what I’m doing for them.”
Chelsea and Dallas exchange a look.
“What?”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Chelsea pats my shoulder as she breezes past me. “Come on. Storm Grayson just rolled up. Ovie’s going to be pairing us together soon.”
My sisters walk away, leaving me fuming, and that’s when I take a good long look at the spell ball set.
Oh crap. This isn’t normal spell ball, which is similar to croquet. This is magical spell ball, and I’m terrible at it.
“Something wrong?” Devlin’s beside me.
When did he slither up?
“No. Yes. I’m awful at magical spell ball.”
“Here. Let me give you a quick lesson.”
I start arguing that no thank you, I don’t need his help, but he’s already gently pushing a hoop into the earth and grabbing a mallet and ball.
“No, really, that’s okay.”
“Just trust me. All right. Show me how you hold the mallet.”
He puts it into my hands and I show him.
“Now hit the ball.”
As soon as I start to aim, the hoop jumps up and wiggles. This is what I hate about this version of the game. The hoop won’t sit still. It’s all cartoonish and leaps out of the way before your ball can go through it.
I always come in last place when I play against my family. Even Addison, who used to not have any magic to speak of, can beat me.
I hit the ball, and of course it misses the hoop, landing in the bushes.
“I see your problem.”
Before I can tell Devlin that he’s my only problem, he places his hand atop mine and presses his chest into my back.
Oh. My. God.
I think I might faint.
He smells like the ocean, like waves beating against the sand. He moves the hair off my neck, and of course while doing so his fingers brush against my flesh, sending a shiver cartwheeling down my spine.
His voice is low, husky. It sounds like sex. “When you aim, you have to anticipate where the hoop will move. It gives you a hint in how it dances. See? It’s wanting to go left.”
And I see it. The hoop doth dance too much, methinks. It wiggles and wobbles, looking very much like a croquet hoop that ended up in cartoon land.
Devlin, for some reason, is still behind me. His chest is still pressed to my back, and his mouth is dangerously close to my ear. Not exactly sure why that’s dangerous, but it feels dangerous. Risqué. Like his mouth could slowly make a play for my ear and begin nibbling it.
In public.
“Lightly tap the ball, and it’ll go in,” he murmurs so close to my skin that the hairs on the back of my neck soldier to attention.
His hand is still on mine, and heat sears my flesh. It feels like he’s branding me, like we’ve suddenly become conjoined twins and there’s no way to separate us.
I tip my face toward his, and his mouth is right there. Beside me. Next to mine.
I whisper, “Like this?”
Before he can answer, I hit the mallet against the ball, aiming just slightly left of the hoop. The ball flies across the lawn and plows through the hoop just as it wiggles left.
“Very nice,” Devlin says, still holding my arm, still with his back against mine, still cradling me in public.
“Storm,” someone shouts.
The announcement takes me by surprise, and I jump, elbowing Devlin in the gut in the process.
He grunts and rocks back. I turn to apologize, but he’s already straightened and is smoothing a hand over his hair.
Good. I need space. I don’t need his mouth by my ear or his hand touching my arm or his chest pressing against my back.
He doesn’t want me, remember?
I need Storm Grayson beside me, falling in love with my charming face and personality.
Devlin slips his hands into his pockets. “When you get paired up with Storm, just act natural. Smile. Be nice. I know it’s hard for you, at least with me, but do your best.”
I smirk. “How do you know I’m being paired with him?”
“Because I’ve already spoken to your aunt and made sure.”
“My aunt? Where is she?”
Then I see her. Ovie’s standing near the entrance of the garden, which is just like one of those fancy French ones with little pebbles on the footpaths and landscaped in tall hedges.
Ovie’s wearing a sun visor and, for some reason, a tennis outfit complete with pleated skirt. She’s also got a whistle around her neck. Someone’s taking their job as events coordinator a bit too seriously.
She blows the whistle. Yes, blows, and from the back, Chatty Cathy snickers.
I want to punch her in the face.
“Welcome, y’all. Thank you for coming to our little event of magical spell ball. We’re so glad that you could join us. There will be refreshments at the end, and I don’t expect the game to take too long, but you know how games can go. Sometimes they take a little while.”
She chuckles and no one joins.
That’s when I see Nana’s face peering out of the bushes a little ways off.
My stomach plummets to the ground.
Nana! Why can’t you stay away?
I’ve got to cover her before anyone else sees.
Somehow I manage not to barrel roll myself over to the hedgerow. Instead I do a very quick walk that makes me look like I’ve either got ants in my pants or that I have to pee a river.
Trust me, it looks bad.
I reach Nana and she spots me, immediately breaking into a smile as if it’s no big deal that she’s a severed head sticking out of a bush.
I stop in front of her and block her view.
“What are you doing?” she whines. Whines! “I can’t see anymore.”
This is the part where I talk out of the side of my mouth like an amateur ventriloquist who really, really wants to be great at this but is really, really failing miserably.
“You don’t need to see. You need to stay hidden because no one can find out about you.” I think it comes out like that, but it might be a bit more like, Zhou mede shtay hid, brrcuss no one cun fffind oout abooot zhou.
She sniffs. The audacity! “I just wanted to see how things are going with you.”
How things are going? I’m stuck living with my worst enemy, that’s how things are going. But “Fine,” is all I say. “Now get home. I’ll talk to you later.”
She sighs dramatically, as if it’s all my fault that she can’t stay and pretend to be alive. “All right. I’ll leave, but keep me posted about Devlin. I mean, Storm.”
I turn around and catch her fiendish smile before she sinks back into the hedges and disappears, hopefully forever, but no one can be certain. Least of all me.
This whole time Ovie’s been talking, but I’ve drowned her out, so focused am I on keeping Nana’s appearance a secret. Contrary to most Southern families, we don’t showcase our crazy by putting them on the front porch with a fiddle and a spittoon. No, we hide our crazy away in the dark corners of our home.
Just like it should be.
“Ready, partner?”
His voice takes me by surprise. I glance up and do a double take. While I was deep in thoughts of crazy , Storm Grayson found his way over and is now standing beside me looking beautiful with his chiseled face and gray eyes. And that silvery-white hair! Is it natural? I love it!
“Good morning,” I say brightly, remembering Devlin’s suggestion to smile, which comes easy for me. He’s the only person I don’t smile at, and that’s because I hate him with all the passion that is within me.
“You look lovely,” he says, his gaze quickly flitting over my body, not at all in a suggestive way. He’s not drinking me in like a jungle cat about to eat a meal. No, he’s looking at me in a respectful manner as befits a billionaire.
“Thank you.”
I’m about to tell him that he looks nice as well, but that’s when Ovie blows her whistle like a frustrated junior high gym teacher who dreamed of coaching high school football but somehow got stuck with this gig.
“Y’all ready?” my aunt shouts. “Line up and good luck!”
I sneak a glance at Storm and think that I need all the luck that I can get.