Maggie Shayne - An Enchanted Season

She was squeezing his face kind of hard and his lips were bulging forward. “What?” he said, speech mumbled from her tight grip.

“This way you’re feeling…you know, attracted to me. It’s because of the mistletoe. Bree showed me how to put a lust spell on it.” Charlotte winced and waited for his reaction.

“What?” he said again, looking at her blankly, his fingers resting on the neckline of her sweater, his intent clearly to pull it back down. “What the hell are you talking about?”

It sounded a little strange in retrospect. Letting go of his face, Charlotte pried her sweater out of his grip and pulled the neck back up, feeling more than a little bare, both literally and figuratively. “See, Bree thinks we’re witches, right? You know that.”

His eyebrow went up. “Yeah. So?”

There was just no reasonable way to explain this. “So she wants me to admit it, and in return she’ll wear a reindeer sweater for Christmas.” Not that Bree’s clothes were the slightest bit relevant to the conversation at hand, but Charlotte was avoiding having to say out loud that she wanted Will in the worst way.

“Okay. Can’t picture your sister in holiday gear, but whatever. And you’re actually willing to admit you’re a witch? That doesn’t seem like you.”

“Well…I didn’t have to say or do anything so much as I had to cast a spell. Which I thought wouldn’t work, because I really didn’t think I was witch. So I cast a lust spell on that mistletoe for you, knowing you wouldn’t react to it, then I could show Bree I’m not a witch at all. But you did react to it. So I am a witch and you’re just feeling desire for me because of the spell. It’s all not real, this…physical attraction for me; it’s the lust spell.”

His face was still really, really close to hers. It was a good long five seconds before he responded. Then he said carefully, “Why would you try to cast a lust spell on me?”

Oh, shoot. She was going to have to admit it. There was nothing for it. Charlotte swallowed hard and whispered, “Because I wanted you to want me. The way that I want you.”

There it was. He could do with it as he saw fit. Charlotte wanted to toss her dinner but she just sucked in a breath and waited for the blow.

Will touched her cheek. “Sweetheart.”

Tears popped into her eyes. Damn it, she was going to embarrass herself by crying, but the way he said that, so sweet, so tender, it was like he was touched, and needed to let her down easy. It was awful, yet so like him. He’d never hurt her intentionally, and she’d put him in this awkward position.

“The mistletoe had nothing to do with me kissing you.”

That wasn’t what she expected him to say. “What do you mean? Of course it did.”

“No, it didn’t. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I want you. Sexually. And I have for a long, long time.”

She had fallen and bumped her head. She was dreaming. She had accidentally ingested hallucinogenic drugs without being aware of it. She had entered an alternative universe or fallen into a virtual reality world. Because it sounded like Will had just said he wanted her, too, and that was just impossible.

“No, you don’t.”

He laughed. “Yes, I do. And I’m damn glad to hear you feel the same way. Not to mention flattered that you would try to cast a lust spell on me. But honey, that wasn’t at all necessary because I’ve been lusting after you for years.”

“Years?” Was that her voice? She was downright squeaking. But Will was freaking her out. “But you’ve never once tried to do anything…you never tried to kiss me or anything. Are you sure it’s not the spell?”

She’d hate it and drop to the ground and kick and scream if it was the spell from hell, but she had to be sure. There was no way she could allow herself to get all excited and worked up thinking there was a future for her and Will, then have it yanked away. She would, quite simply, die if that were the case. Overdramatic, maybe. But still the truth.

“I did try to kiss you once five years ago. Don’t you remember? You gave me such a look of horror that I just flat out stopped. I thought you weren’t interested at all, that being friends is all you ever wanted.”

“You never tried to kiss me!” She would remember that. And she wouldn’t have pulled back. God, what had she missed? It wasn’t like a kiss attempt could really be mistaken for anything else, like reaching for a napkin, or pulling a stray hair off her face. It was impossible. She would have known .

“It was when I got shot.”

One of the worst days of her life, second only to when her grandmother had died. Will had responded to a robbery alone, since Cuttersville’s police force was small. They did all their patrolling solo, and that night he’d encountered a desperate twenty-year-old addict trying to break into the pharmaceutical supplies at the drugstore. He’d shot Will in the shoulder, but Will had still managed to restrain and handcuff him before calling for backup. Charlotte had gotten the call from Will’s mom, who was still living in town at the time, and she’d met them up at the hospital. “What about when you got shot?” Just the memory of the fear she’d felt before knowing he was okay made her mouth go hot.

“I tried to kiss you. In the hospital. I had one of those epiphanies, you know, from facing potential death, where I thought, ‘Hey, I love Charlotte, what am I waiting for?’ But you looked at me like I had lost my mind, so I let it drop.” He had stepped back, putting space between them, and he shrugged, looking a little sheepish.

Now it wasn’t just her mouth that was hot, it was her whole body, head to toe and every speck in between. She did remember, after all. “I thought you were hopped up on pain killers and didn’t know what you were doing. I thought maybe you were dreaming. You were muttering incoherently. And did you just say that you love me?”

He nodded. Then he took her hand, his touch tender, his thumb smoothing over her skin. “Charlotte, I love you, totally and completely. As a friend, yes, but it’s more than that…I love you the way a man loves a woman.”

Charlotte was speechless, a big old grapefruit-size lump in her throat preventing her from swallowing or speaking. Not that she had formulated a coherent response anyway. She couldn’t really see, either, because tears had completely blurred her vision. So she stood there watery and wordless and shook her head, overwhelmed. This was real. He was real. The love she felt was real, and now he was telling her she had his, too.

Squeezing his hand back and breathing really hard, she managed to force out, “I love you, too,” before dissolving into full-blown sobbing. She didn’t mean to. Didn’t want to. But the emotion she felt, the relief, the joy, the hope, was overwhelming, and she just lost it.

Will pulled her close against his chest. “Shh, sweetheart, it’s alright. It’s all good. These are happy tears, right?”

She nodded, face squashed against his T-shirt. “Uh-huh.” Wiping her tears on the cotton of his shirt, she sucked in air and tried to get control of herself.

“Alright, then.” He tipped her head up, forcing her to look at him. “Then can I make love to you?”

Hell, yes. “Absolutely.” Only she couldn’t stop herself from darting a quick glance over to his kitchen, where the mistletoe was lying.

He grinned. “Should I go get it? And how exactly did you cast a spell on that thing anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just leave it.” Bree would be disappointed that it hadn’t worked, but Charlotte couldn’t say she was. Will wanting her all on his own was far better. There was really no comparison.

“Sure it does. I’m curious.” He went over to the kitchen and picked it up. Groaning when he made contact, his eyes rolled back in his head like he was suddenly experiencing intense pleasure.