Chapter 5 #2
Grant just pulled me closer. “It was only a matter of time. Who can resist a woman who unironically calendar-invites you to watch the latest reality TV show couples?”
“It's quality television,” I grumbled.
An hour later, and the soles of my feet throbbed inside my heels. My smile felt painted on, my neck tight from the effort.
“Kick off your shoes, Spells,” Grant murmured, lifting a hand in greeting to someone from across the room. “At least one of us should be comfortable.”
He tugged at his collar, then shifted as if he had ants under his jacket. He had to be roasting in that thing. The pavilion was packed, the humid air sticking to my skin like a second dress.
“You first,” I whispered. “Your jacket for my shoes.”
“Weirdest strip poker game I’ve ever played, but okay.” Grant checked the perimeter before shrugging out of his jacket. He tossed it like a hot potato behind a potted fern. His relieved exhale could have powered a sailboat.
“You next.”
I lifted my heel, bending to unhook the clasp as Grant steadied my elbow so I didn’t join his jacket on the floor.
His hand was warm and solid, and for a moment the din of the pavilion—the clink of glasses, the chatter, the drums—faded.
I flexed my bare feet against the cool floorboards and sighed with pleasure.
My muscles relaxed for the first time that night, and when I glanced up, Grant was already looking down at me. His thumb brushed my elbow before he let go.
Oddly, I felt like one of his co-conspirators instead of his victim.
It was… nice. The game we were playing had a weird side-effect.
We’d agreed to fake niceties in public, but for the moment, it was just us, and I didn’t want to ruin it with a snide comment.
I couldn’t even think of any, which was alarming.
In fact, the only thought bouncing around in my mind was that being a luau wallflower with Grant was surprisingly enjoyable. Though he’d probably grunt and offer to do a keg-stand if I said the words out loud.
His gaze moved away first. He shifted his weight, tugging at his cuffs as if the air had grown hotter.
“So…” Grant’s voice sounded tighter than usual as he cleared his throat. “Might rain tomorrow.”
I tilted my head, letting my gaze trail along the hard line of his jaw. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Fill awkward silences with something meaningless.”
His jaw bunched. I tensed, realizing I’d broken the spell. I waited for his verbal jab, knowing it would be brutal. The silence stretched, and my heart pounded, certain he was searching for a kill shot.
“Keeping things light makes breathing easier.”
His answer was so quiet, I almost missed it over the noise of the band. But I didn’t miss the way it twisted something low in my chest. That ache wasn’t as easy to kick off as my heels.
I knew about his cousin. Everyone did. The entire agency had mourned when Matt died.
But that didn’t make me immune to the unfairness of it all—that Grant could coast on charisma and pedigree while I had to cobble together everything I’d earned, always pretending it didn’t sting when the ground shifted beneath me.
He had everything. The wealthy family, an actual winter dynasty, the looks, the charm… the list was endless. All he had to do was show up, and people flocked, like a Black Friday sale on the season’s hottest toy.
I hummed in the back of my throat. “My aunt used to say, Deflection isn’t a sign of affection.”
Grant’s tone went dry. “Are you spouting meet-cute wisdom at me?”
I cracked a smile. “Guilty. You turn into a weatherman, and I fall back on soulmate proverbs. We’re doomed.”
“What a shame, two well-adjusted adults like us. Who would have thought?” He swirled the ice in his glass. “What was your aunt like?”
The question caught me off guard. “Hopeful. A little dreamy. Always brewing half-baked love spells that strangely smelled like cinnamon. She raised me after my parents passed. Well, her and a revolving door of ill-equipped boyfriends.” I shrugged and let out a tiny grumble when I realized I’d eaten all my cherries.
“Aunt Mabel believed there was a perfect match for everyone. She just thought the way to find it was through quantity, not quality.”
“You never used your magic on her?”
I shook my head, my hidden ache spreading. “It wasn’t that simple. Family is…”
Grant blew out a breath. “Complicated.”
I nodded, surprised he’d finished my sentence so accurately, and that the ground hadn’t collapsed beneath our feet when he did.
“Here she is!”
My boss’s voice crashed through the moment like a snowball breaking a window. I jolted, nearly spilling the cherry juice left in the bowl.
Grant straightened at my side, his gaze darting to his crumpled jacket before his chin snapped up. I was less defiant and fumbled for my shoes, jamming my toes through the straps without bothering to secure them. If we had to walk anywhere, I was in trouble.
My division head and three board members approached, flanked by Grant’s grandfather.
“I want you to meet Valerie Spellman, Sunbelt’s finest,” my boss said cheerfully, gesturing toward me with a dramatic wave. She faltered a step when she saw how close I stood to Grant. The color drained from her face, her eyes searching for the nearest exit. Not that I blamed her.
Her smile wavered. “I was just telling the board how you could manifest a meet-cute out of thin air.”
One of the board members tossed back their drink, depositing their glass on a passing tray. “We’d love to see your magic in action, Ms. Spellman.”
“Here? N-now?” My mouth went dry. I briefly considered fishing the ice out of the bottom of Grant’s glass just to soothe it. Not a classy move, but necessary. I forced a laugh. “I try not to match where I work. It’s too risky.”
Grant nodded as if he agreed with me. “Two miracle workers would make terrible soulmates.”
“He’s right—”
“Thanks, Ms. Spellman," he said, exaggerating my name. "I am right. Which is why you should match them.”
Grant pointed toward the bar where the bartender I’d spoken to earlier was mixing drinks. Waiting at the counter was the woman who’d manned the lifeguard chair at the pool, now in a resort polo and apron.
I clenched my teeth, shooting him a glare, but Grant just let the silence simmer like he’d thrown down a gauntlet.
Okay, maybe this wasn’t terrible. They already had a spark; I just had to ignite it. This was easy! I could match them in my sleep.
My palms felt damp as I smoothed them over my dress.
Nerves, obviously. The last time my magic manifested was about a week ago in the grocery store while I flirted over a display of pre-packaged meals for one.
The guy joked that if we put ours together, it would count as a date.
I tossed back my hair, and a wave of magic knocked over a tower of canned goods.
One clocked him in the forehead. When he came to, he fell in love with the attending EMT.
So technically, it worked. But I wasn’t proud, and I still ate my frozen meal alone.
“I'd be happy to show off my skills!” I said with way too much animation. What was I doing with my hands? They fluttered in the air like I was doing a one-woman jazz routine. Get a grip, Spellman.
The board watched the bar expectantly. Grant just watched me. Yeah, my hands were still twitching.
I focused. I had this. I magicked miracles and bonded couples faster than you could take a shot of spiced rum.
The board waited.
And waited.
My magic fizzled in the air, barely creating a spark. I dropped my hands to my sides. There was nothing there…
I’d glitched.