“I absolutely am not.”
The denial escaped far too quickly to sound convincing. From somewhere beyond the bedroom doorway came the faint sound of Nutmeg’s delighted chirping laughter. Traitor.
Grandmother watched me with far too much understanding for comfort. She reached over and patted my hand gently like one might soothe a child in the midst of some obvious realization. “There’s no need to be embarrassed,” she said warmly. “This is calledattraction, dear.”
I stared at her, unconvinced. “I’m fairly certain attraction is supposed to feel significantly less alarming than this.”
A soft laugh escaped her. “Not at first.”
I knew whatattractionwas in theory, of course. My bakery had long been a favored destination for courting couples and shy admirers. I always ensured we remained well stocked with courage-inducing carrot cakes and honey-heart biscuits for nervous suitors hoping to confess feelings over tea.
I had imagined attraction as something pleasant and gentle, not this chaotic whirlwind steadily dismantling my ability to think rationally every time Gabe looked at me with those quiet dark eyes. If these troublesome sensations truly were emotions, I wanted absolutely no part of them.
They seemed more exhausting than worthwhile. I was right to have wanted to sacrifice them. Surely there existed a spell capable of removing such inconvenient feelings entirely. Hopefully the tarts I was preparing to bake would cleanse me of this pesky distraction, but if not, perhaps I could mix up some sort of love-banishing confection?
“Can someone truly feel something for a person they scarcely know?” I asked cautiously. “Especially someone who doesn’t feel properly in the first place?”
Grandmother smiled into her tea. “Attraction is merely the beginning, a sort of natural magic that draws people towards one another so they may discover whether deeper affection exists beneath the surface.”
That explanation did not reassure me in the slightest. If anything, it made the prospect of wandering alone through the misty forest with Gabe feel significantly more dangerous than before.
I found myself wondering how rude it might be to rescind my invitation and send him home before we left. Surely he would understand if I claimed sudden bakery responsibilities, or an unfortunate berry shortage, or perhaps an attack by wolves.
Why had I agreed to let him accompany me in the first place?
Unfortunately, Grandmother knew me far too well. Before I could fully formulate a polite strategy for escaping the outing without offending Gabe or losing a valuable customer, she interrupted smoothly. “You absolutely cannot go berry picking alone.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why not?”
“Becausebriarthorn raspberriesbruise easily. One person gathers while the other carries the basket. Otherwise the berries become crushed before they’re brought home.” Her expression remained entirely innocent.
I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds vaguely fabricated.”
“It also happens to be true.” Grandmother took another delicate sip of tea before adding, far too casually, “Besides, these particular berries respond best to harmonious emotions. Magic is always stronger when gathered in companionship.”
There it was, the matchmaking. “You simply want me to spend time alone with the handsome hunter.”
“I simply want my granddaughter to occasionally interact with another living creature besides her ailing grandmother and ember sprite, especially when I won’t be around forever.”
“I interact with customers constantly.”
“You discuss pastries with them, dear. That is not the same thing.” Her grin became triumphant. “You admitted he’s indeed handsome. I suspected he might be; his voice sounded kind and gentle, perfectly suited for you.”
I opened my mouth to protest further, but Grandmother reached over once more and squeezed my hand gently this time, the humor softening in her tired eyes.
“You’ve spent so long protecting your heart from pain,” she murmured. “I think you’ve forgotten it was made to feel joy too.”
I sighed, my shoulders bending forward. “You forget,” I whispered. “I can’t feel joy.”
“Oh, Cecelia.” Grandmother lifted a shaking hand to brush back a strand of hair that had fallen into my face. “You have given so much to the magic. But you haven’t lost yourself completely. There is still joy to be found if you look hard enough…or have the right companion to help you search.”
I hastily looked away. The tenderness in her voice struck somewhere deep inside me with uncomfortable precision. That dangerous warmth had returned to my chest again, softer this time but no less unsettling.
Resolved, I rose from her bedside with a sigh and braced myself to walk into the damp, cool outdoors where Gabe patiently waited.
“Where are you going?” Grandmother asked knowingly as I crossed towards the doorway. The satisfaction in her tone made it abundantly clear she considered herself victorious.
“Berry picking,” I answered dryly over my shoulder. “Like you so desperately wish.” And perhaps, somewhere deepbeneath all my protests and carefully constructed logic, like I secretly wished as well.
