Page 25 of Kiss and Spell
He raised his head sluggishly and propped himself up on his arms, cradling his chin in his hands. Back home, he drank cases of the finest spirits and never had a single headache. Here, he drank a few glasses of fancy grape juice they called wine and it felt like a tiny unicorn was tap dancing on his head.
“It’s a mystery to me,” Whitney murmured sympathetically. “Eat something, it’ll make you feel better. I ordered breakfast!”
Xavier perused the feast before him. An assortment of sugar-crusted pastries, fresh-squeezed juices, and wrapped breakfast items labeled with Little Red Hen stickers was arranged on silver platters. Low vases filled with crayon-bright gerbera daisies decorated the table. Leftover party guests lingered around, grabbing a few items before blowing kisses to Whitney and departing the house. It seemed that people literally partied until dawn or at least until the food arrived. Xavier checked for the telltale silver container that held the brew his body literally ached to consume.
“Is there any coffee?” he asked, his voice croaky like he ate three frogs.
“I’m brewing some now,” Whitney said. “It should be done soon.”
Xavier sighed. “You know you could wave your wand and—poof!—you’d have a full spread.”
Whitney clicked her teeth together. “It’s not the same. I like the anticipation, which reminds me.” She snapped her fingers and a thin smartphone appeared in her hand. Whitney turned the screen toward him. “I signed you up for a Smitten event at the tavern tomorrow! How whimsical!”
He didn’t even bother to read the email. “I really don’t feel like it. I’m still annoyed with you.”
“Oh, you’ll get over it,” Whitney said with a confident grin. “I saw Smitten as a chance to invest and give back to the community. Nothing more, nothing less.”
During their floral emergency, he’d spoken to Whitney last night about Smitten by the Shore. Apparently, she completely “forgot” that he’d be staying with her during a matchmaking festival that she’d secretly paid for. Xavier grumbled irritably at her confession, but he loved her generous heart. Whitney was a patron of happily-ever-after and happy-for-now endings and loved seeing people live their best lives. From what details Ursula shared with him at the bistro, the entire Smitten event meant a lot to the Grove. A nagging thought came to him through his haze.
“Does Father know about this event?”
Xavier’s head pounded. He found it difficult to make a genuine connection with anyone at such a chaotic mass dating event, but his father relished this type of rapid-fire matchmaking, believing that wooing as many ladies as possible was an effective strategy to finding a mate. He joked many times how he could manipulate situations with a snap of his fingers. He thought it would be hilarious to get Xavier caught in a compromising position in Rose Garden with a willing lady.
Whitney let out a shocked squeak. “Of course not! What His Royal Highness doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Now, back to the event. It’s being held at a place named Two Princes! It’s a sign from the universe.”
Xavier would’ve rolled his eyes if it didn’t hurt to blink. Whitney would take the name of the pub as a sign since Royce and Xavier were the only two princes in the immediate family. They also had Primrose, an outspoken princess who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind about diplomatic matters. His chest ached. His missed his siblings terribly.
Xavier mumbled, “Not everything is a sign. I’m taking the week off to recover.”
Whitney placed her phone on the table with a grin. “It seems you had a memorable equinox.”
That was an understatement. Yes, it was so memorable he could barely lift his head. He’d been so excited that Ursula decided to stay that he indulged in wine and her company. They got a bottle of the finest wine from the caterer, borrowed two long-stemmed glasses, and talked in the nook for hours. As the evening progressed, he found himself becoming sprung on Ursula.
She spoke of herbs and charms with a vibrancy that made him sit up and pay attention. He’d never met anyone who spoke about the importance of black pepper like she did.
A snarky voice entered his head. You like her. You like like her.
This night wasn’t part of the plan. He’d drunk more wine to keep himself from holding her hand. He’d had another drink to keep himself from cupping her cheek. The wine hit him hard, making him get bold with his thoughts and actions. Ask her out. As the alcohol flowed through his bloodstream, he was compelled to move and celebrate this moment. If he was moving on the dance floor, he was safe from asking her out for dinner. From asking her out on a real date.
She’d told him clearly that she was looking to get things right next time. She was holding out for real love. A witchy woman like Ursula deserved to keep her options open, not to be tied down to an enchanted prince.
He’d asked for her help, but he refrained from asking for her kiss.
They’d left the nook and went out to the dance floor, among the writhing bodies and flashing Technicolor lights. Music reverberated over his skin and through his bones, giving him the ability to let go and enjoy. With every note that blasted from the speaker, his concerns about the curse that clouded his mind cleared and gave way to movement. Dancers found the beat and moved together. Ursula mouthed the words, slinking her hips hypnotically back and forth. Xavier paused and just watched. Dance lights overhead made her hair shine like polished obsidian. Her turquoise necklace glowed against her lovely skin. The shimmery fabric of her dress—that dress—showed off her generous curves and she looked like an enchantress.
The sight of her in motion stole his breath and his sanity. He wanted her. Now.
He’d reached out for her hand, but she seemed to blend into the crowd, and after that, the night blurred into a glitter-filled memory. He’d woken up in a random bathtub still in last night’s clothes, clutching a loofah to his chest. It was a little after nine o’clock. He’d changed into clean clothes and searched the common areas for Ursula, but he couldn’t find her. His spirits dropped. She didn’t come to the house to be his nursemaid; she’d come here to have a good time.
You fool, she probably left after your shameful display last night.
The thought tore at his insides. Whitney had called him down to eat breakfast, which he dutifully attended.
Once he drank a jug of coffee and got food in his stomach, he would set about finding Ursula and apologizing for whatever he did.
“Did you tell your guest that breakfast’s here?”
“Wait.” Xavier stared at Whitney. “She’s here.”