Page 27

Meanwhile, Art was worried about the poor landlord whose main source of income had just turned into an expensive liability.

“Mean what?” he asked, frowning.

“That you wish you could help him.”

His frown deepened, as though he didn’t understand what I was asking. “Of course I mean it. Can you imagine? What a nightmare. He went from having secured a semi-long-term renter at corporate pricing to months of construction hassle. At home, I would have known who to call to get him some help. Here, I don’t know anyone or anything.”

Smiling, I leaned over to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. His eyebrows jumped in response.

“What was that for?” he asked, looking somewhat amused by my reaction.

“You’re a good man, Arthur Winslow. You know that?”

His eyebrows rose a little higher. “I am?”

I nodded firmly. “Yep. No doubt about it.”

“And that’s a good thing? Or a bad thing?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Tsking, I grimaced. “Jury is still out, but it does appear to be a chronic case. Maybe even terminal.”

“Oh no!” he gasped. “That sounds terrible. Do you think there’s a cure?”

I shook my head sadly. “I’m sorry. I don’t think so.”

“Sigh,” he said, instead of actually sighing. “I guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it. Do you know the symptoms?”

Laughing, I shot him a wry smile. “From what I hear, it’s a chronically depleted bank account and a perpetual crease right here between your eyes.”

“Right here?” he said, placing a gentle kiss where I was pointing on my forehead. “You don’t appear to have one of those. Does that mean you don’t suffer from the same affliction?”

I grinned and winked at him. “Maybe it presents differently in women. You’ll have to wait and see.”

With a deep rumbling laugh that sounded almost like a growl, he pulled me into his arms and crushed his lips against mine in a kiss that stole my breath and quelled the laughter bubbling up. Once I’d entirely forgotten what we were joking about, he pulled away, eyes glassy with desire, and blinked a few times to clear them.

“The kids,” we both said a little breathlessly at the same time.

“Right, yes. The kids,” he repeated, looking deep into my eyes as he caressed my cheek longingly.

“Hey, Art?” I started, then stopped as my brain caught what my mouth was about to say.

“Yes, Meg?” he replied.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Art flashed me the goofy grin that never failed to activate the butterflies in my belly. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

I opened my mouth and shut it a few times as I considered what I’d almost blurted out instead, checking in with my gut and my heart before I voiced the impulsive thought. None of the flags I expected popped up.

“Why don’t you guys stay here? With me?”

Art looked down at me tenderly. “That’s a very sweet offer, but we’ll be okay. The B&B we’ve been at the last two days has a room for us tonight. After that, I’ll figure something out. I’m ninety-nine percent certain my assistant was more concerned with making sure I lived in the same town as you than anything else. There must be other places that’ll take Merry if we can’t find something here.”

“But…” I hesitated, certain that what I wanted to say was both clingy and off-putting.

“But?” Art prompted, meeting my eyes and gently caressing my cheek with his thumb.

“But what if I don’t want you to live in another town?” I muttered, glancing away, my cheeks hot with shame as my mother, grandmother, and aunts made scandalized noises in my head. Girls shouldn’t beg boys for something they want. Ashwick witches beg no one for anything. Mac and I might have carried our father’s last name, but we were Ashwick witches by blood. In our family, nothing else mattered.