Chapter 9
Grant
Ah, blessed silence. Two years of bickering, and all it had taken was a fall into a ravine.
I glared at Valerie’s back as she limped through the jungle.
Every step she took was equal parts stubborn pride and wounded bird that hopped away if I got too close.
I had to fight the urge to scoop her up and carry her the rest of the way, mostly because she’d hate it, and so I could pretend to drop her every five feet.
She was still holding a grudge from the first time we met.
Figures. But then, so was I. What I’d thought might have been the spark of something real had blown up in our faces.
So what if I’d used a pickup line? She’d been smart, funny, and so impossibly beautiful under the glow of those holiday lights.
Some days, I was half convinced Cupid wasn’t a cherub, but the Norse god of mischief, Loki, disguised in clip-on wings and a quiver of trick arrows.
He’d fired one at us that night, and we’d been paying for it ever since.
The storm had finally let up, trading icy needles of rain for sticky air and rising steam.
I’d shed the raincoat, but my clothes were still stuck to my skin.
We’d been walking for a while now, following the wooden signposts that led to the island’s couples resort.
Thankfully, it was closer, because with the light dropping fast and Valerie’s ankle slowing us down, catching a shuttle back to the retreat was safer than risking the hike in the dark.
My hand throbbed from where I’d slammed it against the rock face, each pulse reminding me I’d lost more than just the bowling challenge.
Chasing after Valerie meant our team was eliminated from the final round, and with the retreat ending tomorrow, so was my winning streak.
I was going to hear about it. Like my grandfather had said, I wasn’t any closer to catching up with Matt. But what else was new?
This trip was supposed to be my breather before the Christmas season kicked in, my last one before responsibility, team expectations, and budget reports filled my calendar.
Instead, I was limping toward the finish line with a busted hand, a bruised ego, and a woman who’d soon be part of the new cross-division team to witness my downfall up close and in person.
If the board wanted us to solve cold cases, they should start with mine, the one that’s been gathering frost for years, where everything I touch cracks like a glass ornament under pressure.
But I could barely bend my fingers anyway, and the loose signet ring I always wore suddenly felt too tight, the skin around it swelling with every step.
And Valerie? Alive and muttering under her breath like she hadn’t shaved a decade off my life until I heard her belting Christmas carols in the rain. She was the human embodiment of whiplash. One minute, I wanted to kiss the fight out of her; the next, I wanted to let the leopards take her.
“Know anything about the resort we’re headed to?” I asked, breaking the silence, if only to cut off my thought spiral before I leaned too heavily in either direction. “Think they’ll let us take a shower before riding the shuttle?”
Valerie huffed, glancing over her shoulder from beneath a riot of frizzy, jungle-mussed hair. “It’s a holistic resort for couples. Mud baths and leech body treatments.” Her gaze swept me from head to toe. “Start with the leeches; you’re already covered in mud.”
My lips twitched. “I knew you’d be an expert on leeches. Did you model your ability to suck the soul out of people after them?”
“Ha!” She swatted a fern like it had committed a crime against foliage. “The only thing soul-sucking is your lame attempts to get under my skin. I’m immune now. The enchanted waterfall washed away my ‘Let Grant Affect My Moods’ meter.”
“Must’ve been some waterfall.” I shot back. “Guess you found the cure you were looking for, and it wasn’t about your magic.”
She bristled. “There’s nothing wrong with my magic. I’m perfect. I always have been, and I always will—” Valerie stumbled to a halt, her jaw going slack as the wall of greenery parted like a stage curtain.
A stone path cut straight through the undergrowth, leading to a pavilion strung with lanterns that flickered to life like possessed motion sensors.
White rose petals blanketed the steps, their damp edges catching the last blaze of sunset.
Filmy curtains tied with gold tassels fluttered in the breeze around a ceremonial altar.
Not a soul in sight, just an endless stretch of remote beach as if someone had dropped a destination wedding venue out of the sky, Oz-style.
And we were the witches who’d somehow dodged the landing.
Valerie hobbled up the petal-strewn steps and lowered herself gingerly into a folding chair. She dug her phone out of her pocket and held it up in the air, searching for a signal.
“I have a few bars. I’ll call Sage and let her know they can call off the search.” She tapped the screen, then frowned, shaking the phone as if there was water in the circuit board. “That’s weird. It won’t dial.”
I tipped my chin toward a wooden sign staked in the sand just outside the pavilion. Painted script rolled across it: Silence your phones, ceremony in progress.
“Mine doesn’t work either. I bet there’s a spell to stop rude guests from taking personal calls during the vows.”
“Okay, but where is everyone?” Valerie bent to rub her ankle. A pained breath slid through her teeth.
“They probably postponed because of the storm.” I flexed my fingers, my signet ring digging into red, puffed skin. The swelling was getting worse.
Valerie paused her ankle massage, eyeing my injured hand. “That looks bad.”
“I’ll live to see the sunrise, don’t worry.”
“I'm not worried. I don’t have that kind of luck.”
“Broke too many mirrors checking your makeup? That’s surprising. I’ve always considered you passably attractive—like a six. Not quite shatter-worthy.”
“A six?” She pushed out of her chair so fast it toppled backward. A flash of pain crossed her face before pride smothered it. “I’m a classic eight and a half, bordering on a nine, and you know it, Delaney.”
I shrugged, smothering my reaction. She wasn’t immune to anything, especially not me.
“Fine. If you say so.” I framed my hands. “With the sunset behind you, nearly blinding me, I’ll give you an extra point or two.”
She scoffed, then crossed her arms, but her gaze dropped to my hand again. “Sunset points aside, that ring looks like it’s cutting off circulation.”
“It’s stuck,” I muttered, trying to twist it off, setting off a sharp burst of agony. “Which is ironic because it has never fit right. The division heir is supposed to wear it. It was never sized for me.”
Valerie chewed on her lip, her features softening slightly. Then again, maybe it was the sunset, backlighting her in gold. She was an easy nine in cloud cover… but in the sunlight? The number rose by a digit. Not that I’d ever give her that ammunition.
“Here—” She limped toward the altar, plucking a bouquet of flowers from a vase sitting on a raised column. “Stick your hand in the water. It’ll help loosen it. You need to get the blood moving again, or you’ll lose the finger.”
“I don’t think I should take medical advice from the woman who orders an extra bowl of cherries with her cocktail.”
“Quit whining and dunk.”
I grumbled but slid my swollen finger into the cool water. “Happy?”
She crushed the flowers to her chest. “Ecstatic. Now twist.”
I pulled my hand out of the water and tugged at the ring. It slipped loose faster than I expected, popping free and vanishing into the carpet of petals at our feet.
Valerie was quicker than I was, bending to scoop it up. She twirled it once on her finger before sliding it all the way down. A sly grin curved her lips.
“Well, look at that. Does this make me the new head of Snowbelt? Do I get a raise? Stock options?”
I lunged for the ring, but she danced out of reach, gifted for a woman with a busted ankle.
“Give it back.”
“Guess I’m your boss now, Grant.” She lifted the flowers like a microphone, her voice mock-solemn. “In sickness and in health… until death do you fetch my morning coffee.”
“Very funny, Spells.” I grabbed her around the waist and hauled her flush against me.
Her startled gasp feathered across my lips as I caught her hand between us, the cool band pressing against my chest. “The only part I’m cherishing is the death clause,” I murmured.
“But you’re right. I vow to annoy you until my last breath. Now, take it off.”
Her eyes flared, pupils wide and dark. The air between us shifted. Every nerve in my body sparked with the press of her curves, the ring between us like a live fuse.
Then the lanterns flickered. Their flames guttered before bursting back to life. A strange draft pricked my skin as the curtains snapped in a phantom wind, and the opening notes of the Wedding March swelled around us.
We both froze as a flurry of white shapes burst from the rafters—doves, not seagulls—freaking doves, scattered into the darkening sky.
“Is that—? No…” Valerie’s voice broke on the word, her face paling with horror.
I blinked as a robed man stepped out of the trees, walking steadily toward the pavilion. A wide smile lit his craggy face, and tufts of white hair sprouted behind his ears. He carried a worn book etched with ancient-looking markings.
“You two made it after all. The planner told me you’d pushed the ceremony to tomorrow so you could still use the beach pavilion. All the guests are still at the hotel. But when our motion sensors came on, and I got the signal, I thought to myself, those two lovebirds couldn’t wait another day.”
“Lovebirds?” Valerie flinched. “Clearly, you’re mistaken.”
He eyed us, still wrapped in each other’s arms, surrounded by rose petals and the last rays of golden light. We weren’t exactly giving off enemy vibes. He waved a hand through the air as if to say, Young people these days.