The Secret Ingredient of Wishes (28 page)

It was tempting. Part of her—the part that was still bitter about not being able to wish Michael back—yearned to pack up her stuff and pretend that she was just like everyone else. Like she couldn't change people's lives just by wishing things were different.

But she'd done that before. It hadn't done her any good. And if Catch was right, Rachel had to finally commit to her ability if she wanted to gain control.

“No, it's okay. I need to do this. But maybe we skip that one since I'm doing this to help people, not disappoint them. What's next?”

Instead of selecting another wish, Everley asked, “Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like you have to do this.” She fingered the stem of her glass, rotating it so the wine danced up the sides.

“I'm good. I promise,” Rachel said. She leaned forward and picked another wish from the box. Taking a deep breath, she read it out loud. “So, it looks like this one wants State to have a winning season. Do you have any idea what sport they're talking about?”

“Football. This time of year, it's always football. March? Now that's a whole 'nother story.”

“See, it's a good thing you're doing this with me, or I might've ruined some poor team's chances.”

Everley toasted the air. “To me, then.”

“I'll second that,” Rachel said and pulled the next wish from the box.

“I can't wait to see how everyone reacts when their deepest wishes start coming true. They're going to fall over themselves to beg your forgiveness for being such asshats to you. It'll be glorious.”

“I'm just doing this to put things right. Do some kind of good in case I have to leave. Maybe get some of the land back from Max.” Everley made a low growling sound at the mention of Ashe's dad. Rachel nodded in agreement. She added in a lighter tone, “And make some frivolous wishes come true in the process.”

“You're not going anywhere. I refuse to let you,” Everley said.

Rachel flicked the wish she still held, hoping it contained a weightier wish than the first few. “I promise to wish you a very good replacement on my way out of town.”

Everley took another long drink of wine and smiled at her over the rim. “And I promise to wish for you to stay right here.”

 

28

Rachel had been sober enough to know she shouldn't drive home. But when Everley suggested calling Ashe to come get her, she knew she was still buzzed enough to do something stupid. She settled for walking the mile and a half back to Catch's.

She stopped at the end of the driveway, just before the yard disappeared into the darkness of night. A warm breeze sighed against her skin. The leaves laughed quietly as the current tickled them. For a second, maybe two, the air smelled sweeter, like the trees were wooing her. Squinting into the darkness, Rachel contemplated ripping a peach from the branch and sinking her teeth into its fuzzy flesh, letting the sweet juice run down her chin and fingers.

She jumped when a shadow moved in the yard. Her fingers slid from the box of wishes she had clutched to her chest. It dropped to the ground and dozens of white paper scraps lifted and flapped in the breeze. They rustled like insect wings.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were coming home at all tonight,” Ashe said. He reached out and plucked a wish from the air.

“Shit,” Rachel said.

“Afraid I'd sneak up to your room and read them?” he asked, waving it at her. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight, a mischievous glint that irritated and seduced all at once.

She stretched up on her toes to catch a wish that fluttered by his head. “No.”

“Need some help?”

“I've got it,” she said, grabbing at another one that floated by. It drifted through her fingers.

“I'm actually pretty good.” He lunged and caught two in one hand. “Scott and I used to run around trying to catch leaves before they hit the ground. Hell, who am I kidding, we still do that. After-Thanksgiving dinner ritual.” He picked another one out of the air inches from her fingertips.

“Fine. Just don't read them, please,” she said. She reached for another one and laughed when it crumpled in her fist.

“Deal,” he said. She grinned at him and popped a kiss on his lips. His fingers closed around hers when the wind kicked up to keep the paper in her hand from taking off again. When he leaned down to turn her playful kiss into a real one, she didn't pull away.

Tart remnants of fruit from whatever pie he'd eaten that evening clung to his tongue. It mingled with the wine on her own. Stepping back, he said, “Did you spill a bottle of wine on yourself?”

“No. Most of it's in me,” Rachel said. She stumbled a bit, laughing, and Ashe steadied her.

“I'm gonna kill Everley for letting you drive home. Then I'm gonna kill you for actually doing it.”

Rachel patted his chest. “Oh, calm down. I walked. Everley and I might've gone through a few bottles, but we're not stupid.”

“Why didn't you just stay there?”

“She was calling Jamie to see if he wanted to have a sleepover. Though I very much doubt they're going to get much sleep. Plus, I didn't trust her with these,” she said. She wiggled her hand—and the paper—free from his grasp.

“You ever gonna tell me what those are?”

“They're wishes.” She said it so easily she surprised herself.

Ashe bent and scraped one off the ground. He held it in the air where she couldn't reach it, opened it, and read, “I wish my mom would find a new job so she'll be home at night.” Folding it back, he handed it to her. “Are they all like that?”

She'd tried not to listen, but the words wormed their way in, sparking her nerves. “Some of them. Others want love or money or a new car. Violet, Maeby's oldest daughter, wished for a unicorn for her last birthday. The best I could do was a horse with an ice cream cone tied to its head. Not that I meant to do it, mind you. It just sort of slipped through my defenses. Violet's kinda hard to resist.”

“You're serious?” he asked.

“Well, I couldn't very well get her a real unicorn. Not even I can wish that into existence.” Rachel tilted her head back and looked at the stars. “It's so pretty out tonight,” she said. The wind whipped a strand of hair across her face.

Ashe reached out and twisted the hair lightly around his finger. She darted her eyes back to his. Releasing her hair, he skimmed the back of his fingers down the side of her face. “I meant are you serious about the wishing thing. You can really do that?”

“What do you think I was doing with Everley all night?” she asked.

“Other than getting drunk?”

Rachel pushed his hand away. “You think I'm making it up?”

“Why don't you prove me wrong?” Ashe said. He met her eyes and saw the challenge take hold. Smiling, he continued, “I'll make a wish and you make it come true. Easy as that.”

“Fine. You're on. But help me pick up the rest first,” she said.

The wind had settled and the paper littered the grass. In the hazy moonlight, the wishes glowed white. Rachel and Ashe went in opposite directions, scooping the papers up and tucking them into pockets when their hands got full. If Ashe read them as he went, Rachel couldn't tell. The yard smelled too sweet, like the inside of a candle shop. She made a grab for the last remaining pieces and jogged back to the driveway where the air was less potent.

“I think it's getting worse,” Rachel said. She held her hand under her nose for a few seconds to hold off the rotten plum smell before stuffing the paper slips back into the box. She glowered at the orchard. “It's like it wants everyone to know.”

He followed her gaze. “
What
wants everyone to know
what
?” he asked.

“The plum tree. It wants everyone to know that it's there. That it's not going anywhere and you're just going to have to deal with it.” She could imagine how Ashe would deal with learning the man Lola cheated on him with was his father. And imagining it was bad enough. She had no desire to see it play out in real life.

“Is the plum tree evil? I can't see its mustache, so it's a little hard to tell.”

“Not everything has to look evil to be dangerous,” Rachel said. Her head was a little fuzzy, her throat dry. Ashe looked back at her with eyes so intense she could almost see herself reflected in them. “Are you okay? After all the stuff with your dad charming people out of their farmland coming out, I mean. I heard another two families came forward today. And that his business partner is threatening to send him before the bar.”

“I really don't want to talk about him right now.”

“But are you?”

“I've known my dad wasn't a decent person for a long time. I didn't know he was that much of a dick, but I'm not surprised. It's a life goal of mine to be nothing like him.”

Hugging the box to her chest, she said, “Consider that one checked off the list, then, because you are damn near the perfect guy,” and led the way inside. His hand was warm on her back, just above the bottom of her shirt.

The porch light illuminated enough of the kitchen that they could fumble their way through without waking Catch. Rachel reached back and groped for his hand. He slid his fingers in hers as she guided him through the dining room and up the stairs. Their footsteps whispered behind them.

Her breath caught as she entered her room with Ashe a step behind, his free hand now resting on her neck. Pale light filtered in through the window, illuminating a swath of her bed. For a moment she forgot about wishes and wondered what it would feel like to be pressed into the mattress with his body covering hers. When she turned, she could just make out the curious glint in his eyes. She left her hand in his.

He pulled up short and tugged her to a stop. “Still planning to leave town?” he asked, kicking one of the boxes she'd already packed up. He scanned the room, eyes lingering on the few personal items she still had out—her family photo, a unicorn stuffed animal Violet had sent with Mary Beth, a bottle of hibiscus hand cream from LUX.

“People might've calmed down with all the accusing and pitchfork-thrusting, but that doesn't mean they're really okay with what I can do. Or that they want me to stay.”

“I want you to stay.” Ashe tightened his grip on her hand to keep her from pulling away.

“And I guess I'll just stay locked up in Catch's attic and you'll sneak up and see me when no one's looking?”

“I'd move you to my attic at least. Easier access and all.”

Rachel set the wish box on the table and swatted his chest. His laugh rumbled against her cheek as he pulled her into him. “That's so chivalrous of you,” she said against his collarbone.

“That's one hundred percent selfish of me. And surprisingly, I'm okay with that.”

“Of course you are.”

He released her, his smile pulling mischievously to one side. “Hey, you still owe me a wish.”

“I know. But I can't promise it'll turn out the way you want.”

“So, we'll start small,” he said. Pointing at the wishes still in the box, he continued, “Do I need to write it down?”

“No, you just have to think it. The paper will appear on its own.”

“Um, okay.” Ashe closed his eyes, his dark lashes fluttering as he concentrated. He rubbed a thumb over the back of her hand.

The wish popped into the air a few inches from her free hand. Turning her palm up, the paper settled on her skin with a soft tickle. “I wish Lucy could come home,” she read out loud, her voice faltering. “I know you're new to this whole wishing thing, but wishing for another girl is probably not the smartest idea.”

He cracked one eye open and laughed at the look on her face. “As much as I love Lucy, you have nothing to worry about. How long till we know if it worked?” The affection in his voice knotted her stomach.

She moved to the door and dropped his wish into the box. “No clue. Why don't you go home and wait until Lucy shows up?”

“I'm good here.” Ashe grinned and walked toward her. He backed her against the shelf, stopping just shy of touching her.

She stared at the hollow of his neck and the strip of tan skin that disappeared into his shirt. Fisting her hands at her sides, she stilled everything but her racing heart.

Tipping her chin up with one finger, Ashe said, “All right, let's try something a little more immediate. You know I want you. I wish I knew how you felt about me, you know, ignoring the fact that I just wished for another girl.” His crooked smile said he knew he was giving her complete control over his wish, as if he didn't care whether or not she really could make wishes come true.

“You're an ass,” Rachel said, but she felt herself melting into him.

Though his desire was intense, the wish wasn't forceful enough to appear. But it was one she could happily oblige. He ran his thumb over her lips, applying just enough pressure to open them. Desire skimmed along her skin. The rush of heat spread from her chest and settled, tingling, in her curled fingertips.

She sucked in a breath and the edge of the shelf dug into her back. Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore the words that urged her to lean into him. To catch his bottom lip between her teeth, and to do all the things she'd been dreaming about with him.

Ashe traced his fingers along her jaw. “You gonna make me say it again?”

Whether it was the wish or the challenging curve of his lips, Rachel couldn't resist. Rising up on her toes, she unclenched her hands and, burying them in his hair, dragged his mouth to hers. Unlike their kiss in the driveway, this one was urgent, demanding. Her body molded to his when his hands dropped to her hips and pulled her closer. His stubble scraped her top lip. Her skin sparked where his fingers snaked under her shirt.

She pulled back long enough to see his eyes hazed over with need. When he gripped her hips harder and lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist. He tugged her shirt off and threw it across the room. Despite the fan whirling above, the air was stifling. Her hair clung to her sweaty back. She tried to catch her breath. He moved his mouth to her neck and worked his way down to her collarbone, his lips moving along her skin until she moaned his name.