Page 61 of Meet Cute Magic

“I just thought today was already so far past the fuck buddy expectations that—” The laughter finally wins, escaping my chest in a burst of joy, unable to be contained any longer.

“Fuck buddy?”

His brow furrows in confusion. “That’s what we are, aren’t we?”

I tip my head to the side and smile gently at him, my thumb brushing over his high cheekbone, stubble grazing along the pad of my finger.

“I mean, yeah. We’re fuck buddies. But I think we’re also friends, too, Jack.” My heart swells with the smile that takes over his face, warmth moving through me even though there is a voice in my head telling me I’m getting far too comfortable with this. With him. With us. “Friends can hang out.”

Friends. A word I never in a million years thought someone could use for Jack and me and our once tumultuous relationship, but here we are, fucking any free moment we have, going on a magical quest together, and helping each other with very run-of-the-mill nonmagical life moments.

I guess that could be classified as friends. Right?

“Okay, well, what do you want for a late-night dinner?” I smile. “I can—” I start, and he groans, dropping his head back dramatically and making me laugh.

“Rosie, after all the elaborate help you gave me today, at the very least let me feed you.” Despite his dramatics, when he settles his gaze back on me, I realize he means it and wants me to let him do this.

Who am I to deny him that?

“Okay, Jack. I’ll let you feed me.” And when he smiles wide before giving me a soft kiss, I know I made the right choice.

“I think it’s the journalist,” I murmur, shifting on the bed and moving until I’m on top of him, my chest against his as I set my book aside, too tired to read any longer.

“Hmm?” I realize that his game is paused, and I wonder for a moment how long it’s been like that. The controller is set aside, a foot away. We ordered Chinese delivery from a place still open one town over and spent the last two hours with my head in his lap, the blanket of his bed a mess around us, me reading silently while he played his game. Occasionally, his hand would move, running through my hair while a new level loaded, and once in a while, I would look up and ask a question about the game. He’d patiently answer and would entertain me when I told him about what was happening in my book, providing details when I gasped at different moments. I’m reading a suspense romance where there’s a serial killer on the loose in a normally sleepy small town. This author never fails to have me on the edge of my seat, and I’m thoroughly enjoying having someone to tell about all of my theories.

All that to say, it’s been the most peaceful, perfect night I’ve had in a long time.

“In my book. The killer? I think it’s the journalist.” He gives me a soft smile that shines in his eyes more than it’s written on his face, and it goes straight to my stomach, filling it with sunshine warmth that radiates out.

“Hmm. Would make sense, since they’ve been on the scene every time someone was found.” I refuse to let my mind stop too much on how he’s clearly been listening every time I tell him about the story I’m reading—not when everyone I’ve ever dated has always gotten annoyed by my excited need to tell them about my books. I’ve never had that: a man who was not only willing, but also content to just be with me for a night, reading and being together in relative silence, and somehow was happy just to hang out together, separately.

Thankfully, my mind doesn’t have to linger there too long, not when his face goes sincere and his hand cups my cheek, a thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “Thank you, Rosie,” he whispers. My brows furrow in confusion.

“For what?”

“Being okay with doing nothing.” I shift then so I can see his face clearly and give him a small smile, hoping he understands just how much I mean my next words when I say them.

“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather do nothing with more, Jack.”

Because I can’t.

And slowly, I’m realizing with an equal mix of awe and panic that it’s the truth, and in just over three weeks this will be over and the curse will be broken. I’ll be moving on to find my one true love, and for a split, insane second, I wish I could stay cursed just a little longer.

CHAPTER 22

Rosie

18 days until Halloween

“I think this might be the most difficult one we’ve done,” I say with a sigh as I stare at one of the last ingredients we need on our list. I should have prioritized getting this one, since now that we’re faced with it, I’m not sure how we’re going to manage getting it in time.

Hair from the most powerful man in town.

Now, how the fuck am I supposed to get that without getting arrested?

“Who do we think would qualify?” Jack asks, looking it over as he sits next to me on my couch. With just over two weeks until the full moon, I’m feeling the increased need to finish collecting the items we require. I twist my mouth left and right, trying to think, but the answer seems obvious regardless.

“Probably Mayor Greenwell. I can’t think of anyone who has more power than him, except for maybe Mrs. Hanna, but it says man, so…” My words trail off. It would be so much easier if this potion weren’t misogynistic, as well. Mrs. Hanna is definitely the most powerful woman in Heartwood Hollow. She’s on every board in town, headlining almost every fundraiser, knocking it out of the park, and leading the business committee. People would be much more likely to listen to her than the mayor if push came to shove. But alas, this potion recipe was probably written by some arrogant warlock years and years ago, by the likes of the man who got us into this predicament in the first place.