Maggie Shayne - An Enchanted Season

“Abigail Murphy!” Charlotte said, her voice filled with horror.

Abby’s head snapped up and her eyes went wide. “Charlotte?” she said in a tiny voice.

“Shit,” Brady said, quickly pulling Abby’s shirt back down.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Charlotte asked.

Will figured that was obvious, but he kept his mouth shut.

“The, uh, movie sucked, so we left halfway through. Brady’s grandma owns this house, so we came to talk.” Abby was blushing, but she was also holding her arms crossed over her chest defiantly. “I don’t have to be home until midnight. What are you two doing here?”

“I’m buying this house,” Will said. “I wanted Charlotte’s opinion.” And her body, but that was irrelevant. “And I wanted to ask her to marry me, so I did.”

Abby dropped her arms, defiance disappearing. “Are you serious? Ohmigod! That rocks, Will!” She ran to her sister and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Did you say yes? Tell me you said yes?”

Charlotte smiled and accepted her sister’s hug. “I said yes.”

Then Abby was squealing in delight, so Will took the opportunity to sidle up to Brady, who shot him a wary look.

“Congrats, man,” Brady said.

“Thanks. And keep in mind I’ll be Abby’s brother-in-law. And I’m a cop. I carry a gun.” Then he smiled at Brady. “Just a friendly reminder.”

“Got it.”

“What is going on here?”

Bree joined the party, looking annoyed and cold, snow all over her feet, shod in impractical open shoes, her skirt hovering somewhere around her knees. It wasn’t the best choice of outfit for December, but Will didn’t think Bree went in much for practical. Stubborn was more her style.

“What are you doing here?” Abby asked.

Will was wondering the same thing. When he’d brought Charlotte to see the house, he hadn’t expected they’d be throwing a housewarming party in it that night.

“I saw you and Brady drive past the house, and since you were supposed to be at the movies, I wanted to know what you were doing here.”

“You followed me?” Abby frowned. “You so need a life.”

Bree glared at her little sister, and Will saw the whole conversation going bad places. He slipped his hand into Charlotte’s and pulled her by his side. “I brought Charlotte here to show her this house because I was thinking about buying it.”

Bree blinked, studying him. “You’re going to, aren’t you? I feel all these weird happy waves from you, and…” Her mouth dropped. “You and Charlotte had sex, didn’t you? I can sense it.”

That was kind of disturbing. He didn’t think he wanted Bree sensing it every time he and Charlotte got busy. But since Charlotte was now blushing a violent red, he figured it was obvious anyway. He said, “Charlotte and I are buying this house together. We’re getting married.”

Damn, that felt and sounded so good when he said it. He was having happy waves. Big ones. He pulled Charlotte even closer and wrapped both his arms around her. He never wanted to let her go again.

“Charlotte, is he serious?” Bree asked.

Charlotte looked at him and Will felt his breath catch. There was no mistaking the look she was giving him—it was tender, filled with love, and edged with lust.

“Oh, yeah, he’s one-hundred-percent serious.”

And she kissed him right there, in front of her sisters. Which, for Charlotte, was a serious sign of affection.

He whispered in her ear, “How powerful a witch do you think you are? Can you make them move right out of this house? I want to work on your lust spell some more.”

Charlotte pulled back and gave him a saucy smile. “I can handle this.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You all need to leave because Will and I want to be alone.”

That worked.

A WEEK LATER CHARLOTTE FIGURED LIFE DIDN’T GET ANYbetter. She and Will were hosting a Christmas party in the gray house and they were surrounded by family, food, and holiday music. They’d made an offer on the house and were set to close in a few weeks. Jessie Stritmeyer had happily agreed to let them have their first Christmas party in the house, despite not having moved in yet, and she’d even given them their first housewarming gift—a rather obscene-looking cactus.

Charlotte’s mother was chatting happily away to Will’s mother, who had come back from Florida for a week to celebrate Christmas. Mrs. Thornton, bless her heart, actually seemed interested in the running commentary Charlotte’s mother was delivering on her haunted prison tour adventure, complete with cold spots and rattling manacles.

Abby reached around Charlotte for the cookie tray resting on the coffee table. “These rock.” She bit the head off a blue frosted angel and chewed.

“Thanks.” Charlotte had baked six dozen cookies in a sort of love, sugar, and sex high after she and Will had spent a rather industrious morning getting to know each other just a bit better. Yet again. “Nice T-shirt.”

Her sister grinned. “It’s Christmas themed.”

It was, but somehow Charlotte didn’t think a shirt that featured Santa being enthusiastically whipped by his reindeer was really traditional in the truest sense. Charlotte sank back into the sofa and watched Will, her father, Mr. Thornton, and Brady Stritmeyer inspecting the door in the dining room that led to the backyard. She heard them tossing around thoughts like installing better insulation, a new track, and a dead bolt. They were in collective man heaven inspecting the house and laundry-listing all the repairs it needed.

Bree was sitting on the other side of her, wearing the tackiest, most appalling sweatshirt Charlotte had ever seen. Suffering from multiple personality disorder, the shirt was green, red, gold, plaid, striped, decked out with bows, lace, raffia, and featuring at least three Christmas scenes on it. It looked like a craft fair had vomited on her sister’s chest, and she had to admit, Bree looked better in black.

“Are we going to burn this shirt together after today?” Charlotte asked her, knowing her sister had picked the hideous thing to wear to prove a point. Charlotte couldn’t expect her sisters to change any more than she herself wanted to change. Just because they didn’t share the same taste in clothes didn’t make them any less sisters.

“I was hoping.” Bree grinned. “I think I might actually need therapy after wearing this.”

“Thanks for doing it.” Charlotte crossed her legs and took her sisters’ hands in hers. She squeezed, feeling deliciously, ridiculously happy.

“Hey, by the way, what did you do with that mistletoe and the ribbon?” Bree asked.

“It’s shoved in a drawer.”

“If you don’t want it you have to destroy it piece by piece since you put a spell on it.”

“That’s sounds dangerous. How about I give it to you and you can do it.” “Destroy” was not a verb Charlotte acted out intentionally.

“Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

Charlotte was still gripping their hands, unwilling to let go just yet. Will glanced over at her and smiled. Dang, he was so cute. She imagined running her fingers over his tight butt, sliding around to the front and stroking him into thick, throbbing hardness.

Suddenly Will’s eyes went wide and he took a step backward, like he was evading something. A glance showed he had an erection before his hands moved in front of it to block the view. Holy crap.

“Careful, Charlotte,” Bree whispered, her voice gleeful. “Together the three of us are more powerful than one.”

Huh. It was a little scary to imagine what the three of them could do together, but it didn’t stop her from looking at Will and still thinking naughty thoughts.