A Witch's Handbook of Kisses and Curses (20 page)

But the Sleep-Tight was the only motel for the next fifty miles, neither of us had another hour of driving in us, and after paying Mindy off, it fit my cash-on-hand budget. That was the only positive thing I could say about the Sleep-Tight. Jed insisted on being the one to go into the office to rent the rooms. I was concerned that he might have ulterior motives and would come back claiming that there was only one single-bed room available for the night. But it turned out he was concerned that the motel clerk might see a woman alone and “get the wrong ideas.”

It was a manly, almost cavemanly, gesture, but I could see the value in it. Nana Fee would have told me to stand up straight, make direct eye contact, and demand respect. And as healthy as that was, in this environment,
demanding respect would have probably resulted in the clerk slapping the “bitch” label on me and doing something weird to the truck. I appreciated the direct caveman approach if it meant circumventing all that.

I dragged our overnight bags out of the back of the truck as he returned with the room keys. “If I am stabbed to death in the shower, I will come back and haunt you,” I told him.

“Fine.” He sighed. “I will come and watch over you while you are in the shower.”

“You completely misinterpreted that.”

My room was connected to Jed’s through an adjoining door. It was spare and outdated, but at least I didn’t see anything crawling across the threadbare orange carpet. Of course, the first thing I did was pull the comforter off of the bed, because there was no way I was going to sleep under that. I pulled out my travel sleeping bag and spread it over the sheets, with a prick of regret for Stephen and his practical gift-giving habits.

I’d showered (without being stabbed) and was seriously considering just going to bed, when Jed knocked on the adjoining door. He yelled through the door, “How do you feel about barbecue?”

“You mean hamburgers?” I yelled back. “I have no particular philosophy about hamburgers.”

There was a long pause. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

There is no such thing as magical glue. Any witch who tries to sell you magical glue is a lying hag.

—A Witch’s Compendium of Curses

W
e went to a restaurant called High on the Hog. It was careworn but well populated. The green pleather booths were sprung and peeling. The napkin dispensers consisted of paper-towel racks mounted against the oak paneling. Pictures of people holding up large fish and neon beer signs decorated the walls. I could barely see the kitchen through the smoke, but I could make out a huge brick pit in the middle of the space.

It was a bit like a pub, with the same happy, boisterous crowd, people drinking more they were supposed to and most likely flirting with people they weren’t supposed to. Loud country music blared from an old jukebox in the corner. The smell should have been revolting, nothing but smoke and grease and beer. But my mouth was watering to the point where I felt like wiping at it with my sleeve.

Jed ordered for me, because after the hamburger comment, I couldn’t be trusted to do it myself. While
the meat was smoky and delicious, it was the side dishes I gorged on. There were things I remembered from my childhood. Corn on the cob and macaroni and cheese. But then there were hash brown casserole, collard greens, and hush puppies, which I had never tried.

“Wow, you are just throwing yourself into that plate, aren’t you?” Jed marveled.

“I know, it’s probably revolting. You’ve probably spent your adult life dating women who eat the cucumber from their salad and proclaim they’re just too full to go on, but I am starving. And this is really good.”

“Naw, hell, I was going to offer you my black-eyed peas if it means you’ll keep makin’ those little sounds in your throat.”

“I’m making little sounds?”

He nodded. “If you stop, I’ll cry. A lot.”

I drank the watery-but-no-one-knew-any-better beer, and I ate my fill. And when a stocky man in a Georgia State T-shirt asked me to two-step, I politely declined. He almost argued, but Jed gave him sort of a no-doubt-terrifying-to-the-male-of-the-species territorial glare, and Mr. Georgia State scampered away.

Two more, I thought. Two more, and I could go home. With the plaque locked up tight in Jed’s truck, I was well and truly relaxed for the first time in days. It was the same relief and euphoria I’d felt after finding the candle. I was getting a little bit addicted to that feeling, and it was leading to some dangerous thoughts.

Those thoughts focused on Jed’s lips and how they’d felt against mine earlier that day. And how relatively
easy it was to sit here in this crowded bar and talk about nothing at all with him. I didn’t feel that constant nagging pressure to say the right thing or use the right fork. Because Jed had seen me having a possum-fueled panic attack wearing nothing but a towel. After that, there was nowhere to go but up.

After a bit too much Hank Williams, Sr., and far too much good food, Jed drove us back to the motel. The car park was dark, the night moonless under a cloudy sky.

“I had a really nice time,” I told him as we walked to the doors.

“Try not to sound so surprised,” he chided gently.

“I’m not surprised! All right, I’m a little surprised. Thank you for driving me down here and helping me. Thanks.” I leaned forward and meant to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head at the last minute, and I managed to catch his mouth instead. I gave an exasperated little huff. “Really, again?”

“You kissed me!”

“It was an accident!” I cried.

“There’s no such thing as accidents, only things you mean to do and put off until a moment of panic.”

“That’s awfully philosophical,” I mused.

“No, I’m not talkin’ about all mankind, just you in particular.”

I stared at him, long and hard. I watched as the smug little grin faded from his expression. And he was just a man, looking at a woman, as if he wanted her desperately. I don’t think anyone had ever looked at me that way.

I was not drunk. The beer we’d had was barely enough
to give me a pleasant buzz. I
was
making a decision without thinking, for the first time in a very long time. It felt really good, but in the morning, I was probably going to regret it. At the moment, I did not care. I wish I could blame it on the drink or being tired or homesick or under the influence of some bizarre magical ritual. But I just wanted him. His skin was warm and smooth under mine. He was solid and strong, and he was looking at me as if I hung the moon and stars. I wanted to feel his skin against mine, to have him drag that stubble across my collarbone and bite at my throat.

“Oh, hell.” I sighed, shoving him against the door and attacking his mouth. I didn’t even care when our teeth clacked together. His tongue slipped past my lips, tangled with mine. Hands that had hesitated with uncertainty at my sides now curled around my back.

I hitched my leg over his hip, rising against him. Once again, his hands found purchase under my rear as he lifted me. He pushed into my room and whipped me around, pushing me against the door. He yanked my shirt over my head. I pushed him back onto the bed and unbuttoned his shirt, grinding down on the growing bulge of his lap. He moaned.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, lightly pulling at the ends of my hair. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

I laughed. “No! On that beer? Don’t be silly!” I kissed him again. “No, I’m not sure about it. But I’m going to do it anyway. It’s a new thing for me.”

He chuckled. “Well, thank you for experimentin’ on me.”

“You’re so pretty!” I exclaimed as I pulled his shirt
away. “It’s just not fair. I mean, really. You’re just . . . so damned pretty! Do you get that a lot?”

“Not nearly enough,” he said, shaking his head. He pushed my hair from my face and grinned up at me. “And you’re pretty, too.” He kissed the tip of my chin, nuzzling my neck. “The first time I saw you, I couldn’t look away from your face.”

I slipped my fingertips up the length of his spine, twisting them into his hair and pulling his head back, so we were eye-to-eye. “You mean, when I was naked?”

He grinned wickedly. I jiggled my hand slightly, forcing him to nod. “Yes.”

I bit my lip, keeping my head tilted even as he turned and lowered me to the mattress. “I don’t know whether it’s a compliment that you could only look at my face when I was naked.”

“I will stare at your breasts right now if it will make you happy.”

I considered it for a long moment. “I think it would.”

He helped me unclasp my bra and threw it over his shoulder. He sat back on his heels, pursing his lips and squinting as if he was considering my nipples very carefully. After a few moments of this, I became uncomfortable and tried to cross my arms. He caught my wrists, shaking his head. He dipped his head to mine as he pressed my wrists to the mattress.

“I still like your face,” he muttered, making me laugh as he nuzzled my cheek.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I don’t think I could stop you if I tried.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” I said, kissing him again. “I’m not going to talk myself out of this. I am going to have sex with you. Like the dirty, nasty, make-the-priest-drop-his-Bible-during-confession sort of sex. I am very bendy. You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but . . .
very
bendy. And if I start talking again, I will talk until you lose interest or I start snoring. And if I start snoring, you definitely won’t have sex with me.”

“You snore?”

“Rumor has it.”

He unzipped my jeans and tugged them down my hips. “I like snoring.” Suddenly, he was back at face level and drawing his cheek along the width of my collarbone as my panties seemed to disappear into thin air. “Love it.” I wrapped my legs around his hips, and he planted a kiss on the hollow of my throat. “Think it’s the sexiest thing ever.”

As I was laughing, he closed his lips around mine and slowly, but surely, slid between my thighs. I could feel him smiling against my mouth as he rolled his hips. I giggled shamelessly, nuzzling against his neck until he ducked away.

“Ticklish,” he murmured.

Every nerve, every cell in my body seemed to sizzle to life. I could feel everything—skin, lips, hands, warmth, comfort, home. This was right where I should be. I could feel it in my bones, the magic working its way loose from my marrow and warming me down to my toes. It wound
around the two of us, like a golden ribbon only I could see.

That was new.

Our legs wound together under the rough sheets as we moved. An aurora of sunny light drifted around the bed while I was trying to concentrate on the slow, steady pace Jed was setting. It was a bit of a distraction, taking on a life of its own, flashing and moving as we did, sharing Jed’s playful energy as he nibbled at my jawline. But somehow we managed to slide along until Jed’s chest was heaving and my skin felt too hot and tight.

Every part of me pulsed, and the light pulsed with me. Jed moaned over me, tilting his head against mine. Just before I closed my eyes, Jed’s skin changed in my light, rippling into scales, golden oval scales like you’d see in medieval illustrations of dragons. I blinked rapidly, eyes wide, running my hand down his shoulder. And with that, it was his normal, smooth skin again.

Jed chuckled and rolled to his side, dragging me with him. The golden ribbon faded from sight as I slumped against his ribs, slightly boggled.

Clearly, mind-blowing sex combined with hash brown casserole had hallucinogenic properties.

*  *  *

We lay there in the dark, wrapped around each other, Jed’s chin resting on my shoulder. I was so relaxed and content that I was drifting on that line between sleep and waking. And Jed suddenly nudged my cheek with his nose and said, “What were you going to ask me?”

I yawned. “Before you so rudely interrupted me with sex?”

“Yep.”

I turned over to face him, balancing on my elbows as my hair fell back over my shoulders. “Why are you so weird around me?”

He frowned and paused midnuzzle. “What do you mean?”

“You’re nice one minute, and then the next, you’re running into your house like your arse is on fire to avoid me. When we do talk, you’re funny and charming and sweet, but then I haven’t been able to talk to you that often over the last few weeks, because you hide out in your side of the house.”

“I thought you were going to ask me if they looked real,” he said, nodding toward my chest. “Which they do.”

“And when I ask you anything the least bit personal, you deflect with a dirty joke.”

“Force of habit.”

“Well, cut it out.”

“I’m used to having my family living on all sides. I’ve never had a hot neighbor before. I don’t know how to act when I like someone and she’s living so close. I figured if I was always at your door, asking you over for dinner, I would come across like a crazy stalker.” His face was suddenly so serious, little worry lines forming around his mouth in an expression like regret. “I like you, so much more than I expected, and it’s made things more difficult than they should be.”

“So you like me
too
much?” I asked, skeptical.