Mountain Charm (15 page)

“When I was growing up, I couldn’t wait until I turned thirteen, because that’s the age when the daughter is allowed to cast her own spell. She wishes for happiness, beauty, gifts, and intelligence. And she wishes for her soul mate—a man who will be kind and loving and devoted, until death do them part. Then the daughter blows out the candle, and she waits.”

She knew it sounded completely ridiculous.

Dylan blinked rapidly. “She
waits
?”

“Yes.”

“How long does she wait?”

“Until she turns twenty-one. I know it sounds crazy, but as a little girl, it was the ultimate fairy tale, and I believed it with my whole heart. Then I grew up, and my supposedly gifted hands weren’t magical enough to heal my father. The day they laid him in the ground was the day I buried my faith in magic.”

Her shaking voice trailed off as she waited for Dylan to connect the dots. It didn’t take him long.

“The day I arrived in Maple Ridge was your twenty-first birthday.”

“Yes.”

“You hated me on sight.”

“
Hate’s
a little strong . . .”

“You pointed a gun at me!”

“It wasn’t loaded!”

Dylan smirked, and they both laughed. He moved closer, sliding his hand along the nape of her neck. His touch was soft and soothing, and she felt her body finally begin to relax.

 “I want to know more about this spell,” Dylan murmured.

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, for starters, how does it affect the man?”

Angelina sighed. “Well, once they meet, the man is completely infatuated. The attraction is immediate, and if my parents are any indication, it’s eternal. The guy is consumed with thoughts of her—to the point of obsession. In his eyes, she’s perfect, and no one else comes close to comparing to her . . . or so I’m told.”

Dylan couldn’t deny he was grateful to have the insanity explained. He wasn’t losing his mind after all. There was a logical explanation, even if the logic was shrouded in the supernatural.

“That’s . . . amazingly accurate.”

A single tear streamed down her cheek, and he reached over, tenderly wiping it away with his fingers.

“You think my feelings for you aren’t real because of some spell you conjured when you were thirteen?”

Angelina nodded.

“What I feel for you is real, Angelina. Spell or no spell.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

He gently tilted her face toward his.

“I’m crazy about you. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life.”

He kissed her then, and for a few glorious moments, Angelina allowed herself to believe him. She poured her heart and soul into their kiss, fearful he would come to his senses whenever he pulled away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned back against the grass, pulling her close. Angelina laid her head against his chest, sighing contently as he trailed his fingers through her hair.

“It’s real, Angelina,” he murmured, holding her tight.

A lullaby, filled with the sounds of rippling water and his gentle heartbeat, flooded her senses and calmed her mind, and she closed her eyes.

Dylan opened his eyes to find Angelina still sleeping peacefully in his arms. Sighing contently, he buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he was spellbound.

Whether he believed in magic was irrelevant. From the moment they met, he had been irrationally attracted to her. Dylan didn’t believe his feelings were being manipulated by some charm she had chanted when she was a little girl, but he couldn’t deny the power of the force that had brought them together.

Dylan trailed his fingers against her spine as he contemplated his next move. First, he needed to have a conversation with his editor, because this story was dead in the water. There was no way he could write a feature about Angelina and her family. He wouldn’t expose them to that kind of publicity. He loved them too much, and he refused to make a quick buck by sharing their secrets with the world.

Steve could fire him for all he cared.

Unfortunately, that conversation would require a trip to Nashville, which probably wasn’t a bad thing. He could spend some time with his mom, deal with his boss, and try to wrap his head around everything Angelina had told him.

His arms tightened around her. The thought of being without her, even for a few days, was hard to imagine.

But it had to be done.

Angelina snuggled deeper into his arms, and he smiled.

“How long did we sleep?” she asked groggily.

“Just a few hours.”

Dylan kissed the top of her head. This was a level of contentment he had never dreamed existed, but it did. It was right here in his arms, and he didn’t care if it took the rest of his life to prove to Angelina that his feelings for her were the real thing.

“Angelina?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been thinking about everything you said, and I think . . . I think I need to go home for a couple of days. See my mom. Meet with my editor. Maybe some distance will help me make sense of all this.”

“But you’ll come back, right?”

She sounded so unsure, and it killed him.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he whispered. With her head still resting against his chest, she tilted her face toward his. “I’m coming back, and when I do, I’ll be a man on a mission to prove you’re all I want—spell or no spell.”

Two days passed, and Angelina thought she was handling things pretty well. She had only cried once. Twice. Maybe three times.

Honestly? She’d lost count.

Dylan called every night, telling her about his day with his mom or his conversations with his editor. He ended every phone call by saying how much he missed her, and she had been greeted each morning with a text message saying the same thing.

Anxiety had taken up permanent residence inside her chest. Would he come back
?
Angelina’s greatest fear was that he would get home and decide he wanted no part of her ancestors’ magical matchmaking. An ache filled her, and it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. If this was love, she had no idea how her mother had survived the death of her husband. Angelina, at least, could hold on to the hope that Dylan would come back.

It only cemented Angelina’s belief that Celia Clark was the strongest woman she had ever known.

Dr. Campbell’s building was stark white and cold, but at least they had been allowed to wait in his comfortable office instead of the examining room.

“This is nice,” Celia said, sliding her hands along the expensive chair.

“Oh yeah. You should always be sitting in a cozy leather chair as you wait to hear if your cancer has stabilized.”

“Angelina . . .”

She shrugged. Her sadness and anxiety were making her a little sarcastic.

“When is Dylan coming home?”

She knows me so well.

“He thinks sometime next week,” Angelina replied. “He has some loose ends to tie up with his boss, whatever that means.”

Looking up, Angelina found her mother smiling at her. Her blue eyes were peaceful and calm. Angelina couldn’t believe it. They were sitting in the doctor’s office, awaiting vital test results, and cancer was the very last thing on her mom’s mind. Celia was thinking of her daughter, always.

“You miss him.”

“Mom, it’s not important. Not today.”

“Of course it’s important. You aren’t sleeping. You’re barely eating.”

How does she know?

“It’s . . . hard to explain.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” her mom said with a smile. “It’s very overwhelming, isn’t it?”

Angelina nodded. “Why do I miss him so much?”

“Because you love him.”

The simple words settled into her heart and soul.

I love him.

“You make it sound so easy. You made it
look
easy.”

“Nothing in life is easy, Angelina.”

Angelina glanced around at the cold and sterile office.

“Like cancer.”

Celia sighed deeply. “The disease itself isn’t what’s so tough. Not for me. What’s hardest for me is that my daughter has had to watch both her parents endure it. It will always be the greatest heartache of my life, knowing I’ve caused you pain.”

Angelina grabbed her mother’s hand. “
You
are not causing me pain, and
we
are going to beat this.”

Celia smiled just as the door opened. Dr. Campbell walked inside, greeting both of them with firm handshakes before sitting down behind his desk. He opened the file in his hands and scanned the page before looking up at the two of them. Typically, Dr. Campbell wore a poker face, especially when dispensing bad news, but he’d been her father’s oncologist and now he was her mother’s. The man had practically become a member of the family over the past three years, and Angelina could tell by the expression on his face the news wasn’t good.

She listened, stunned and speechless, as he explained that he’d hoped the single mastectomy, along with the chemo treatments, would have been enough. But cancer cells had now been found in her mother’s second breast, and a complete mastectomy would have to be performed. Another round of chemo would be necessary, and a more aggressive drug—with a long list of side effects that sounded worse than the cancer itself.

Angelina was enraged. “So it was all for nothing? The treatments she’s had to undergo for weeks? They were all for nothing?”

Her mom’s voice was soft and reassuring. “We knew a complete mastectomy was possible, Angelina.”

“Possible is
not
definite.”

Angelina didn’t understand. Wasn’t her mom pissed? Wasn’t she sick of the needles and the prodding and the nausea?

The doctor gave Angelina a sympathetic smile.

“Please rest assured that we will do everything we can to keep your mother comfortable during surgery and throughout this round of treatments. I do want to warn you. She
is
going to be sicker this time, so I’ll prescribe some stronger anti-nausea medications. This medicine will also be more expensive.”

Angelina had the strangest sense of déjà vu, and then she remembered.

It wasn’t the first time Dr. Campbell had given her that very same speech.

The city was stifling.

Maybe Dylan had grown accustomed to the serenity of the country, but downtown Nashville—with its noise and commotion—was like a shock to his system.

It was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

During the past four days, Dylan had struggled to concentrate. His mind was two hundred miles away, in a little town tucked in the heart of the Smoky Mountains. Numbly, he’d sat through countless meetings with his editor, trying his best to explain why he couldn’t finish the article.

“Let me get this straight,” Steve had said. “You’re killing the feature because you’ve got the hots for this girl?”

“It’s not quite that black and white, but yes.”

 Dylan’s boss had been less than pleased, and when Steve made it clear he would write the article or find himself unemployed, Dylan had thanked him for his time and walked right out the door.

“Any luck?” his mom asked. The two of them were sitting in the living room. Patti was watching the news while Dylan scrolled through his phone, searching for a new job.