Page 48 of Meet Cute Magic

“This would have been great intel to give me, say, three days ago.”

She gives me a deadpan look. “Oh, I’m so sorry for not realizing you were going to kiss-bond your neighbor because you took him to a supernatural club and you’re communing with his dead grandpa.” Okay, fair point.

“Does this mean you’ve felt it?” Poppy asks, confused as she watches our back-and-forth. Vi is only eleven months younger than me (our poor mother), so we’ve always been the ones most likely to bicker. Poppy came along when I was four and Vi was three, making Vi and me feel more like twins and Poppy our little sister. Because of this, she’s always watched us argue as if we were twins who shared the same womb space and has become an expert at knowing when to step in and stop things before they escalate.

My mind roams over the other night, and I groan into my hands.

I hadn’t felt him, but I had gotten all riled up, and then took care of it and…

“I think that look means there’s a good chance he felt her,” Vi says with a smug smile. I groan again and fight the sudden all-consuming urge to cry.

“Kill me now,” I mumble as my sisters laugh again at my misery. Poppy rubs my back.

“Well, at least he doesn’t actually know what happened,” she says. “And the bond is over now, so you’re safe. No more pesky attraction.” I nod and wallow for two more minutes before we move on to gossip about different townspeople, but all the while, I can’t help thinking about her insistence on no more pesky attraction and my inability to admit that with the truth-telling spell in my system.

I am so screwed.

CHAPTER 16

Rosie

29 days until Halloween

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.