Page 41 of Meet Cute Magic

“The other part.” Her brow furrows, and she looks to me. “About you being too picky.”

“I just mean, maybe that’s a bit too much to expect out of a real-life man, rather than a fictional one, you know? Men can’t read your mind to know what you want.”

“I don’t know you all that well, Rosie, but even I know what you want. People just have to listen, to pay attention. It isn’t about grand gestures: you just said it yourself. It’s about moments where someone proves that they know you, that they’ve been listening to you. I don’t think that’s asking for too much.” She stares at me for moments that feel like they go on forever, and then it’s my turn to blush under her intense scrutiny.

“You’re really something, aren’t you, Jack Haggerty?” A soft smile I’ve never seen before spreads over her lips, and she gives me the softest shake of her head. Unsure of what to do, I shrug and turn to the heater once more, hoping to hide the blush that slowly burns on my cheeks.

“Just saying it how I see it,” I say before we fall into a comfortable silence, Rosie reading while I finish up her heater, though a few times, I catch my grandfather floating by, looking at us with a pleased look.

“Hey,” Rosie says in a low voice two hours later when she walks into her stockroom in new pajamas just as I’m cleaning up. Her eyes shift and I realize with shock and discomfort that she’s nervous. It’s such an unnatural state for her, the sudden shyness written in every inch of her body.

I don’t like it.

I hate it, actually. I’m learning with mixed feelings that I hate anything that makes Rosie anything but the self-confident chaos queen she is.

“Hey,” I say, trying to make my smile as comfortable as I can make it. She went upstairs to take a warm shower now that her heater works, and she’s in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, moving toward me nervously. Her strawberry blond curls are in a pile on top of her head, not wet, so I’m assuming she just washed her body. I have to quickly shake my head, forcing myself not to think about things like Rosie in the shower.

“So I did a bit of maintenance on the fittings, but we’ll have to order a new circuit board soon. This one’s on its last leg. I’ll install it once it comes in. Other than that, you’re all good.” Relief takes over her face.

“Thank you, Jack. I really can’t tell you how grateful I am that you did this.” I shake my head to tell her it’s no big deal, but she stops me. “I’m serious. I owe you big time. Do you…” She bites her lip in a way that I should not find cute.

She’s annoying, I remind myself. The most annoying person I’ve ever encountered, actually. So annoying, I should—“Do you want to stay for dinner? As a thank you. I really… I would be really screwed if you hadn’t come over today.” She bites her lip again, looking around the messy stockroom. “I could cook, or we could order takeout or—”

“Yes,” I say too quickly, because the thought of turning around and leaving her makes those golden strands tug a bit.

That’s why I say yes.

Because of the bond.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

CHAPTER 14

Jack

35 days until Halloween

“You know you don’t have to sit so far away,” Rosie laughs as I sit on the furthest couch cushion from her in the living room. We’ve eaten dinner here, and now greasy paper plates and a mostly empty box of pizza are on the coffee table before us. She’s still in that sweat suit that engulfs her whole body and shouldn’t look as good as it does, but here we are. And I feel… at a loss. I’m not sure what the standard protocol is when you’re temporarily magically attracted to your neighbor who is supposed to annoy you to your bones. Especially when, with each passing minute, you have to fight harder against the voice in your head that’s begging you to reach over and tug her into your lap so she can watch whatever random television show is playing with her head on your chest.

“I think…” I swallow, that now familiar panicky feeling building in my gut, as though if she gets within arm’s reach, I won’t be able to stop from pulling her body into mine. “I think it’s better that I stay here.” She looks to me, confusion marring her gorgeous face before tipping her head to the side.

“Why? Do I…” Her blue eyes go wide. “Oh my god, do I smell?” She lifts an arm and starts sniffing before pulling at the neckline of her shirt to try and smell beneath it. Unfortunately, it pulls the hem of her sweatshirt up a bit, giving me a glimpse of the soft, smooth expanse of her bare stomach and the fair skin at her hips, which, in this moment, I would give anything to see.

“No. No, you don’t smell.” Bad, I add silently, because Rosie smells like lavender sugar, sweet and calming all at once. She stops trying to smell herself and looks at me skeptically, waiting for an explanation. I groan, running a hand through my hair before finally speaking. “I feel like I’m going crazy,” I finally admit. She raises an eyebrow. “If I sit closer to you, I think all common sense will be out the window, and I’ll pull you into my side and make you sit there for the rest of the night.” And ideally, a whole fuck of a lot more, but I’m not touching that one right now. I rub at my chest, at the source of those fucking gold strands.

“The kiss bond,” she says with understanding.

I shrug. “I guess.”

She grimaces, guilt written all over her face. “I’m sorry. It should be gone in about three more days.” I grunt out my agreement as if I haven’t been holding onto that countdown with every bit of sanity remaining in my bones. Simultaneously, I try not to think too much about how she’s saying the need only impacts me. “But, really, would that…” She swallows, her tongue coming out to lick at her lips. I can’t stop watching it, and when she speaks, I’m so lost in it that it takes me a moment to actually hear what she’s saying. “Would that be so bad?”

“What?”

“Would pulling me into your side and sitting with me all night be that bad? It would ease the bond a bit.”

“It would ease the bond,” I repeat low to myself. She nods then, but I shake my head in the negative, forcing myself to worry more about her comfort than my own discomfort. “I can manage. You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable to ease my temporary issue.”

“The issue is my fault, Jack. And, you know, you’re not the only one feeling its effects.” Well, that’s good to know, I guess. I force myself to focus on that new fact rather than how her tone went breathy. “I didn’t hate it, you know,” she adds, and I see it then: a light blush of her own burning over her cheeks. It’s sweet on her, the almost watermelon color blooming on her cheeks. It’s also unexpected from Rosie, who seems to love picking and prodding at me, whose confidence could rival a supermodel’s.