Page 35 of Witchful Thinking
“I have an inflatable mattress. It’s fine,” Alex said. “I need to sell this house, but a color scheme isn’t going to solve this jinx.”
“It’s not a jinx. Trust me, we would’ve heard about it. If a house is around long enough, then it gains an essence,” Lucy said. “Fortunato has a special essence. People have tried for years to get rid of it, but it’s like cutting out the heart.”
“If this were your house, what would you do?” Alex asked earnestly.
Lucy put the pen down on the paper. “Let the heart live. Make people fall in love with it. How do you make someone fall in love with you?”
Alex stared at her. He studied her face as if trying to commit her to memory.
“You make them feel appreciated and special. Embrace what makes them passionate.”
She flushed but remained silent. He was good at that. He’d brought balloons to school on her birthday and tied them in her locker.
“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll help you with your soul mate search if you help me design and sell this house.”
“You don’t like the neighborhood,” she said lightly.
“The neighborhood is lovely.”
Lucy stilled. Something in the way he said that sentence so endearingly made her seriously doubt that he was talking about the neighborhood. She shifted uncomfortably. Alex blinked, then lifted a single eyebrow. “I’m just looking for a place that fits my lifestyle.”
Ah. Of course. “Same. I’m looking for a soul mate who fits.”
He gave a measured, self-conscious smile. “Okay. Let’s see what we can do.”
That was fair. Lucy considered spell work. A candle dipped in tangerine oil might help him with decorating skills. Maybe a root would boost his self-esteem to get the house sold.
“So, you need me to fix a spell for you? Give you a confidence boost? Get you an interested buyer? Help you get your groove back?”
There was a note of disbelief in his voice. “You have a spell for that?”
“Alexander, there’s a spell for everything.”
His gaze lowered, as did his voice. “Everything?”
With his attention focused on her mouth, her lady parts perked up. Hello there. She sipped on her iced tea, the cool, sweet liquid quenching her thirst. Well, one thirst was quenched. He turned his smile up a notch.
She put her drink down. “Yes. So, tell me what you need.”
His words were as soft as a caress. “I need to unjinx this house. I need you.”
Once upon a time, she would’ve loved to hear him say those words, thrilled that he finally, finally needed her. But it wasn’t real. He needed her now—for a purpose. What about later? What was she going to do? Crawl through his window and hang up a few charms? Or sprinkle pixie dust to bring in prospective buyers? She was being offered the chance to design her dream home for someone else. What would happen at the end of the summer, when he sold his house and left town again?
She shook her head. “You need an interior designer, not a teacher with a home design hobby.”
“If you say so.”
Alex kept his face deceptively composed. He had one hell of a poker face. She promised herself not to play strip poker with him because she’d lose her panties to him. Don’t think of him holding your panties. Wait, too late. Lucy added more honey to her tea. They said nothing else but enjoyed their drinks together. His kiss hello still burned her cheek. Alex had grown from a gangly boy with a constant goofy grin to a tall man with broad shoulders, sculpted arms, and a chest visible under his fitted polo. His physique matched that of world-ranked Olympic swimmers. This distance between her and Alex seemed vast. It felt as if she and Alex were on opposite shores, separated by an invisible storm-tossed ocean; she couldn’t navigate the water alone, and he couldn’t cross over it to meet her.
Chapter Eleven
The waters of the Atlantic Ocean, murky and deep, called Alex that next week. The early hours, when the stars disappeared from the sky, were the best time for a merman to get in a good swim. The full moon was approaching, which meant his transformation was at hand.
For now he’d keep his legs, but soon the water would bring forth his tail.
Alex missed being able to sleep in on Saturday mornings. He loved being able to watch the sky lighten through the apartment windows and bring the day to him. His automatic coffee maker would click on and percolate his brew to help him start the morning.
This Saturday morning he couldn’t sleep. If it wasn’t the phantom touch of Lucy lingering in his mind, the conversation played on repeat in his mind. It was a little too easy to slip into the role of Lucy’s soul mate. He could give two clamshells about Marcus’s feelings, but when Lucy looked at him with a hungry heat, he let himself pretend for that instant. He pretended that this cottage was theirs and that they were working together to fix it up. She’d move in and then—what—make a home together. How long would he stay before that ancient call pulled him away from the Grove? Nahla was smart. She had left before he did.