Chapter 16 Rosie
Rosie
I don’t see Jack again before the full moon, and it’s fully intentional.
Everything is far too confusing. My conversation with my sisters only made things worse, and I decided staying away was the best plan of action.
Still, on the night of the full moon, I trudge across the cobblestones and knock on his door, my stomach in knots.
What alternate universe have I jumped into where Jack Haggerty makes me nervous? Clearly, the world is on fire.
But he does, and as I lift my hand to knock, my pulse is pounding.
At least Jack isn’t a shifter or a vampire, because he would absolutely be able to hear the blood rushing through my veins.
I don’t have much time to think about that, much less try to even out my pulse, before Jack opens the door, a nervous smile of his own on his lips.
“We’ve escalated to knocking?” he asks as he lets me into what has, against all odds, become a familiar place to me.
I notice a few new displays and signs for Halloween, but everything else looks the same.
I wonder if he spent the last couple of days building displays to keep himself busy, just as I did, putting together paranormal, fantasy, and witchy romance displays, knowing they would sell well in the coming weeks.
That part wasn’t out of the norm for me, but the intense dedication I spent assembling and decorating them was.
But I was afraid of what would happen if I let myself sit with my thoughts for too long.
Once I was done with decorating and cleaning the front of the store, I completely organized my backroom, did my inventory (something I’ve never actually done, instead depending solely on my imperfect memory and a quick glance at the shelves to determine what I need to reorder) and anything else I could think of to wear myself out enough so I would fall asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.
No idea what I might be avoiding, of course.
“I’m trying to be polite,” I say with a playful smile as I move to the register, where a big bag sits.
“A new personality trait, I suppose,” he replies with his own grin. I roll my eyes and fight the urge to push on his shoulder, afraid of any kind of physical contact. The kiss bond has long worn off, but I don’t want to test it, not with the lingering feeling it seems to have left behind.
“Shut up,” I say instead before tipping my chin to the bag. “What’s in that monstrosity?” That’s when a light blush burns over his cheeks, adorable and hot in the same moment.
That. That’s what I missed most while avoiding him: that blush that comes when I tease him, or when he’s about to confess something he isn’t sure is cool or is too nerdy or strange.
But for some unhinged reason, I always find it cool or cute or thoughtful, and each one is just one more thing for me to find endearing.
“I packed a bag.”
“A bag?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
“Yeah, just… you know. Basics. Waters, a blanket, and hand warmers. I figured you had some kind of container, but I put a few in there so we could…” His words trail off; clearly he’s becoming embarrassed. “Maybe it was stupid,” he says, shaking his head. “I could—”
“No, no. It was nice. I appreciate it. I just brought this.” I lift the small tote on my shoulder that has a bag for the flowers and a couple of snacks, but nothing else of use. “I’m not the best at thinking ahead,” I say with a smile.
“I like preparing for things when I’m unsure of what to expect. Makes me feel less stressed about it,” he says.
“Sounds like we’re a good pair then,” I say, and as soon as the words leave my lips, a blush turns across my own cheeks. That sounded far too intimate for two people who allegedly can’t stand each other and are only here on a quest, as he would call it. “I didn’t mean it like—”
“We are,” he says. “A good pair. Balance and all of that.” It makes me think about how my mom used to tell me that all magic needs to be equal, something to counteract it and keep nature in equilibrium.
Witches work with nature, not against it.
Energy we use is taken from ourselves, or if it’s a more intricate spell, the ingredients used, like the bowl of smoldering herbs or the white candles needed to summon Phillip.
Vi’s recipes require a balance of sugar and fat and magic to work as intended.
Poppy has to be careful to make a well-rounded bouquet or the results might be wonky—freesia in a love bouquet can remind the recipient that your lover should also be a friend, but too much and they might think the gifter is just a friend.
When my mom taught me about that, I said “just like love,” because even then, I knew my talent was in putting people together. She nodded and told me that love needed the most balance of all, that no one could really, truly tame or control it. It would take what—and who—it wanted.
“Yeah,” I whisper, that unsettling feeling I’d had in my gut for a week now making itself known once more. “Yeah. Well. We should go. It’s going to take about an hour to get there.” A beat passes before Jack sighs, then nods.
“We’re taking my car.” And despite the niggling feeling, I can’t help but smile before I nod at him.
We drive in utter silence, no music or conversation, both of us lost in our own thoughts, and then it continues when we trek across the valley where the flowers will bloom in about an hour, before settling into a spot on the top of a steep hill where I find the buds of the moonflowers.
The only sound around us is the quiet whistle of night air, a rustling of trees off in the distance, and a few animals moving around us.
I’m grateful it’s a warmer night, a heat wave hitting the last few days, so despite the fact that it’s early fall, it’s not too unbearably cold out here.
The blanket Jack brought has one of those plastic backings so we stay dry as we sit, though we carefully leave a good foot between us.
While the silence isn’t new for us, it suddenly feels suffocating, and I have to fight the urge to break it every other minute.
When Jack does instead, I actually jump at the shock of it.
“I brought some snacks,” he says, shifting for his bag.
“Snacks?”
He nods. “I got some things from your sister’s bakery. Some lemon cookies and the muffins you like.” A hand goes to behind his neck and he rubs there nervously. When I see the cookies in question, I shake my head.
“Yeah, we’re not eating those,” I say, grabbing the bag from his hands and tossing it down the hill. I’ll have to grab it before we leave, but in the meantime, I need those cookies as far from us as humanly possible.
“What the fuck, Rosie?” Jack says, brows furrowed and irritation clear on his face.
“If you didn’t like them, you didn’t have to eat them, but I like them and—” I ignore his protests, reaching into my own bag and revealing something I didn’t want to: that I also went to Vi’s place early this morning to get some treats, including his favorite cookies, for our outing tonight.
I was relieved when I saw my sister was in the back when I came in, but it seems Jack wasn’t so lucky.
“I got some, too, don’t worry.” I reach into the bag and pull out the pumpkin-shaped sugar cookie and hand it to him. He furrows his brow, something I barely see in the dim light of the nearly full moon, before taking a small, tentative bite.
“You didn’t have to throw mine out, though,” he grumbles, and I nod in response.
“Yes, I did,” I say, matter-of-factly, already planning for how I can strangle my sister.
“They were perfectly good!”
“They were spelled,” I calmly inform him before taking a bite of my brownie. Silence fills the air as Jack processes my words, and I chew on my treat, hoping the sugar rush will ease my irritation.
“I’m sorry?”
“She spelled them. She probably thought it was funny. I can’t confirm the exact recipe, but I have my theory, and we don’t need that kind of complication.”
“What kind of complication?”
I sigh then groan, flopping back on the blanket. “I think she put some kind of lust spell in them. It would make you feel very… needy. Like the kiss bond, but worse.” Silence fills the air.
“Oh,” he says eventually, and my entire body burns with an embarrassed flush as I stoically stare at the stars.
There’s a sound of him digging through his bag before he moves to lie beside me on the blanket.
“Why would she do that?” he asks after a span of silence.
I had hoped the conversation was going to end with my previous explanation, but I should have known Jack doesn’t let anything go.
He needs all the information at all times.
Normally, I find it endearing, but right now…
“She saw the bond on you and decided it was mine. We were hanging out, and Vi gave me truth-telling muffins—”
“Truth-telling?” he asks, his head turning to me, and I repeat the movement so I face him, smiling.
“Having witches for sisters can be so annoying. She reserves them for us, so no need to worry about you getting a dose.” Unless we start something and my sisters get protective of me, I don’t add.
“Damn,” he grumbles, and I nod.
“Anyway, I confessed enough that they got the gist.”
“Enough?”
“They don’t know about the curse, so I told them the bare minimum of what we were doing to get us bonded together.
You can’t lie under the spell, but you can avoid revealing things so long as you stick to the facts.
I’m pretty sure my sisters think we have some kind of thing between us and they told me I should…
jump on it. Vi probably thought giving you the lusty lemon cookies would get that ball rolling. ”
“Jump on it?”
I groan again. I wish he would just accept my explanation without needing all the details, but because I probably owe him the truth, I give it to him.