Slightly Spellbound (8 page)

“Did you try to bespell me?” Zach asked.

“Of course not,” I said, shaking my arms until normal feeling returned. “I wouldn’t even know how. And if I did, I wouldn’t,” I said, although I wasn’t a hundred percent sure of myself. I didn’t like seeing Zach in pain. If I had known a spell to soothe him . . .

No
, I thought. Not without his permission. People needed to have a choice.

Zach pulled his T-shirt off and in the middle of his massive muscled chest hung an amulet that blazed purple and gold. Since when did he wear any jewelry besides his wedding ring?

“It’s this,” he said. “It protects me from magic. They gave it to me when I finished the human champion training. Like the badge I got when I became a deputy,” he said.

Except a badge never almost paralyzed my arms!

He set the amulet on the coffee table with his keys. “Gone,” he said. “You all right?”

“I guess so,” I murmured, eyeing the amulet. As the light faded, it looked like a plain gold pendant with a purple stone.

“Now you,” he said, nodding toward the ring on my finger.

“I can’t take it off. There’s a spell attached to it that I don’t know how to undo. The ring is connected to a vow.”

Zach was quiet for several excruciating moments. “You exchanged rings with him in a ceremony?”

“No, not like that. We didn’t exchange rings.”

“You did some ritual that involved the rings? Like a blood ritual?” he asked, unsettled.

“No, the rings came after. I just said a spell to save his life.”

“When did the rings come in?”

I tilted my head. “I don’t know exactly when. Sometime that night or the next day. I realized I had it on the day after I made the spell.”

“Did he put it on you while you slept?”

I nodded.

“Without your knowledge or consent?” he asked in a coaxing tone of voice, like he was leading a witness into pressing charges against someone.

“I notice you took off your wedding ring,” I said. “You were wearing it when you left town. You took it off when you thought I was living with him?”

He nodded.

“I stayed at his house while they were fixing Momma’s.”

“You could’ve stayed here,” he pointed out. That’s what he’d asked me to do when he’d left town.

“I did stay here sometimes. And I picked up the mail and watered the plants. Made sure the grass got mowed.”

“Darlin’, come on.”

“What?”

“I’ve got plenty of friends and family. There’s no shortage of people who’d keep the place up for me while I’m out of town.”

“Including me. I’m your friend, too. Or at least I could be, if you’d let me.”

He moved close. “When I was six years old, I jumped my bike from ramp to ramp to show off for you. And Mrs. Peach said, ‘Like all daredevils, that boy’s got more guts than sense.’ And you said, ‘That’s why I like him.’ And she said, ‘One of these days he’ll break his neck.’ And you said, ‘No, he won’t. I’m keeping him.’”

Zach gripped my shoulders. “Afterward,” he said, “I told GW about it and he asked if it had made me mad when you’d said that. I told him the truth. ‘No,’ I said. ‘I liked it.’ And GW said, ‘Well, then I guess she is keeping you.’ And I said, ‘So long as I get to keep her, too.’”

Zach leaned forward till our breath mingled. He smelled musky and sexy. My belly and things lower tightened.

“We’re not friends, Tammy Jo,” he said in a voice infused with fierce passion. “I can get friendship from anyone. You’re my girl. I’m your man.
That’s
who we are.” He leaned back a fraction of an inch, releasing me. “Now if you didn’t come to say good-bye to me, put your arms around my neck and welcome me home with some sugar,” he said, snaking an arm around my waist and pulling me against him.

It was like the million times Zach had come home from football practice in the hundred-degree heat. He’d stride in, aching and sweating, in need of a shower and food and often an ice pack for his knee. But before he saw to any of that, he’d get a kiss from me. I was that girl, the girlfriend of the football star, of the town’s golden boy. I was the girl he’d lost his virginity to and the one he’d married. A thousand memories passed through my mind in an instant and my arms seemed to move of their own accord.

It felt so right to hold him. I gave him the kiss he asked for, and he gave me plenty in return.

Let’s be us again. Yeah, this is us
, I thought wildly as his hands slid under my butt and picked me up. With my legs wrapped around him, he pressed against me, teasing my body with his hardness that was so close to where it needed to be to do me the most good.

He walked into the bedroom and tossed me on the bed. He pulled off his shoes, tossed them aside, and joined me. The kisses were hot and wet, bruising my neck and collarbone. Feverish and frantic, we started to peel off my clothes, beginning with my sweatshirt.

He kissed me, groaning against my mouth as he moved. “Oh, darlin’,” he said. “Tell me you missed this as much as I did.”

“I did.”

He unbuttoned my jeans, but I grabbed his hand before he lowered the zipper. My body wanted to go farther, but I thought of Bryn and couldn’t.

“I missed you, but hold on,” I said, breathless and dizzy. Our hearts slammed inside our chests, almost kissing between our ribs. “I can’t sleep with you until things are settled. No matter how much I want to.”

“Hell.” He rolled onto his back, catching his breath. “You’ll be the death of me, baby girl.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Me, too,” he said, but there was a smile in his voice. He’d felt how much I still wanted to be with him. Apparently that counted for something.

“If it makes you feel better, I haven’t been making love with him either. It doesn’t seem right.”

“So everybody gets to go to bed frustrated?”

“Unless you want me to sleep with you sometimes and him others.”

He cast me a sidelong glance. “No, that’s definitely not what I want.” He turned his head and kissed me again, but he didn’t try for more. “You made dinner. We best eat before it gets cold.”

“Yeah,” I said as he got up. Dragging a breath into my chest and letting it out as a sigh, I rose. I pulled my sweatshirt on and followed him to the kitchen.

After a few awkward first moments, we settled in, eating and talking. It was great, but I reminded myself that Bryn talked with me, too. And in Bryn’s case, I didn’t just get his attention when I’d crashed a car or he’d been away for weeks. For years, Zach had taken me for granted and made it seem like the commentators on ESPN had more interesting things to say than I did. Of course, I’d been with Zach for years. How many new things were there to talk about? He hadn’t cared about bakery squabbles or town gossip. I didn’t much care about the New England Patriots’ offense even when they played the Cowboys. There were bound to be lulls in conversations when a couple had been together since they were five years old.

Maybe after a few years, Bryn wouldn’t be so interested either. The difference, though, was that Bryn was more of a talker than Zach and always would be. During Bryn’s short breaks from working on the Dallas case, he’d encouraged me to tell him what was going on in Duvall. And his wisecracks as I gossiped had left us laughing so hard I’d about come out of my shoes.

“I need a shower,” Zach said, standing. With a devilish display of dimples, he added, “You could wash my back.”

My body gave a little lurch of interest, but I chastised my hormones. “Not tonight, I can’t. Wouldn’t be right. I’ll go home and—”

“Naw,” he said. “Stay. He had a lot of nights with you when I was gone. We don’t have to fool around, but I want more time.”

That warmed my heart; he was willing to make a real effort. I nodded. “Go on, then. Wash the salt off. I’ll be here.”

He grinned and hauled his shirt over his head, giving me a glimpse of big rippling muscles. As he headed into the bathroom, I wondered if he’d try to seduce me into more than kissing. I shook off the thought. That was one way Zach was better than Bryn. Zach wasn’t tricky. He did what he said he’d do. There were no hidden agendas.

Zach had always been the All-American Boy. Handsome, hardworking, and as loyal as the rivers run deep. I couldn’t just let him go. He’d been the most important person in my life for more than a decade. Never seeing Zach would be like losing Momma or Aunt Mel or Georgia Sue. I couldn’t stand it.

With a pang of guilt, I wondered,
What about Bryn?

He’ll deal with it.

Bryn understood my attachment to Zach. And the vow meant Bryn and I were connected forever. Even though that complicated things, in my heart it was also a relief. Bryn might get mad about me spending time with Zach, but unlike Zach, Bryn couldn’t cut me completely out of his life.

After Zach’s shower, he was tired, and we ended up back in his bed. I borrowed one of his jerseys to sleep in, and we lay next to each other in the dark, talking softly, barely touching until he slipped my hand into his.

“Did you have them play the Lonestar song?” I whispered.

“You know I did,” he said matter-of-factly.

“How come you didn’t say so?”

“I thought you were here to settle things with me, to say good-bye so you could be with him. I didn’t want to hear it. Couldn’t stand to.”

“Do you feel better now that you know I still love you?”

“A hell of a lot better,” he said. “Instead of wanting to kill him and you and myself, now I just want to kill him.”

“No one is getting killed. Everything’s going to be okay now.”

His low laughter was not reassuring. “There is no way everything’s going to be okay. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I know what he feels. If you won’t choose between us, if you don’t force one of us out of your life, the last man standing wins.”

“No,” I said as I drifted toward sleep. “It’ll be all right.”
I won’t let either of you go. I’ll keep you both in my life. One as my boyfriend. The other as a friend.

We’ll make it work.

Somehow.

8

AS I WOKE, I heard the trees whispering, “Across the sea. Ride across the sea.” And I saw myself astride a galloping palomino pony. There were so many vines twisted through my hair that from a distance it looked green. Hooves beat the ground, and burning iron arrows whizzed by, cutting my thigh. I galloped faster and faster, my heart pounding. I looked over my shoulder and saw a pair of silver horsemen—the color of mercury. I sat up in bed, panting.

“What the Sam Houston?” I said, yanking the covers back to look at my burning thigh. There was a dark red mark with a few dots of blood. I looked at my hand, and there was blood under my index fingernail. I’d scratched myself in my sleep. I looked at the window, which was closed.

I didn’t hear the trees say anything
, I told myself as I shivered.
It was a dream. Or a vision.

I glanced down at my skin, which had a golden glow. The color faded as I watched. Faery magic . . . again.

I climbed from the bed, wondering where Zach had gone so early in the morning. Maybe to the police station? Was he planning to come back to town for good now? To go back to work? And if he did, what would that mean for the three of us?

I winced, remembering Zach’s predictions about how badly my little love triangle would turn out.

What the hell was I going to do?

Halfway to the bathroom, I heard my phone go off. By the ringtone, I knew it was a text from Bryn. I winced and shook my head. I wasn’t ready to have a conversation with him yet.

After I washed my face, I went out to the kitchen. I hoped I’d find some leftover bags of semisweet chocolate chips in the pantry because if I was going to get through the day I’d need at least half a bag in my pancake batter.

“Hey, darlin’.”

I jumped and spun around. Zach wore jeans and a T-shirt. Clean-shaven with damp hair, he smelled like delicious freshly washed Zach. I wanted to take a bite of him, but my conscience knew I’d better stick to pancakes.

Zach sat at the kitchen table, reading
Sports Illustrated
.

The Bryn ringtone for texts went off again.

I dug through the pantry.

“Good morning, biscuit,” Edie said cheerfully from the shelf she sat on.

I lurched back from the pantry. She floated out.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

“Morning, Beads. I got your magazine,” he said.

I froze, watching Edie move to the chair next to Zach. A glossy magazine sat open to the table of contents. “Page ninety-four,” she said. He set his magazine down and flipped hers to the page she’d asked for. My jaw dropped.

“Would you like some coffee?” Zach asked me, and got up to take out the can of Maxwell House.

I shook my head.

Zach started the coffeemaker and then returned to the table.

“Flip,” Edie said, and Zach reached over and flipped the page for her before returning to his own magazine.

“What in the—? No, pancakes first. Then everything else,” I whispered.

“What?” Edie asked.

I clamped my mouth shut and turned toward the shelves. “I’m sure I must have left some chocolate chips here. I really, really need some.”

My phone rang, playing a Jana Kramer song I hadn’t assigned to anyone. So thankfully not Bryn again. I hurried to pick it up, glad for a distraction from the surreal scene at the table and the chocolateless pantry.

“Tammy Jo?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh, thank goodness. Where are you?”

“Who is this?”

“What?”

“Um—” I looked around frantically, mortified that I didn’t recognize the voice of someone I was obviously supposed to know. Then it dawned on me. “Vangie?”

“Yes. Tammy Jo?”

Good grief! “I can’t really talk now.”

“Why? Are you driving?”

“No, but—”

“Well, you should be. Get to your car right now.”

“What?” I asked. “Listen, I’m kind of busy.”

“He’s furious, and he’s on his way over. He looked calm, but I heard the incantation . . . something about a meteor shower. All storm spells are violent and dangerous. Did you know? Get out now.”