Page 6 of A Heart of Winter (Fairy Tale Retellings #4)

Breathless

B y the time we’d finished picking up everything I needed to eat for the next week, we had not just one, but two bottles of red wine we agreed were perfect, as well as a riesling he liked and a six-pack of hard cider, which was apparently quite popular in Minnesota.

Most of it, I wanted to share with him more than I wanted it for myself.

Yes, it was true, I fell hard into crushes. But he was sweet and kind and patient and gorgeous and just . . . Everything I’d always wanted in a partner and only gotten from Morwenna for most of my life.

Even at our best, Michael had never been like that. He’d been a decent student at first, wanting very much to learn the basics of magic. Then he’d realized that it was difficult, and took time and focus instead of just wriggling your nose and willing things to happen.

He’d always wanted an easy button for every aspect of life, and that simply wasn’t how magic worked. Unless you were me trying to start a snowstorm, and no one in their right mind wanted that life.

As we were stepping into line to check out, Kai’s phone rang. He scowled at his pocket, clearly considering not answering, but after two rings, sighed and fished it out. “Mori.”

He listened in silence for a moment, frowning, glancing up at me. “I’m a little busy right now, Cate. Can’t they wait until Friday?”

Cate. It was the name of the realtor who was selling his parents’ house for him, and he was about to put her off because he was with me. It was sweet. One of the kindest things anyone had done for me in a long time, but Kai’s whole life was on hold while he tried to sell the house.

I reached out and brushed my hand over his. “You can go if you need to. We can have dinner tomorrow.”

The look he gave me at that was utterly scorching, but not in the annoyed-I-interrupted-him way. In a way that said he wanted to hang up the phone, drag me outside, and kiss me breathless right that moment.

Or more than that.

More would have been good.

“I’d rather have dinner,” he whispered, but a moment later, sighed and turned back to the phone conversation.

“Fine. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.

But if the snow starts, I’m leaving. I’m not getting trapped there.

No—yes, I am staying there while it sells.

But I have somewhere else to be tonight. ”

It had been so long since anyone but Morwenna prioritized me that I didn’t know how to react to the idea.

Maybe, I decided, I would make him rice pudding and butter cookies.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh after hanging up. “Apparently some people want to see the house today, and they’re leaving town tomorrow, so they can’t do it another time.”

“Then you should definitely go. Though if Morwenna is right about the weather, they’re not going anywhere tomorrow .

. .” He chuckled at that, but it wasn’t like either of us could tell people they weren’t getting out of Minnesota after a blizzard.

Besides, maybe they would manage it. I was a witch, not a seer, so what did I know?

He sighed and took a step back, slow and deliberate, like it was difficult to do. “Okay. I’m going to go now, or I won’t be able to. I’ll meet you at the cabin as soon as I can.”

“I’ll go get to work on dinner.” I bit my lip as he turned away, and felt like I needed to add, “But if the snow gets too bad, we can do it tomorrow instead. The stew will keep. Better for you to be safe.”

He turned back and shot me his charming wink. “We’ll see. I wasn’t kidding about leaving the minute the snow starts. I’d rather have dinner with you.”

Than sell the house?

That seemed unlikely, but also, it was . . . bolstering. He wanted to spend time with me. A lot.

I supposed I should want to keep him from selling the house, keep him around for longer, but it wasn’t like I wanted to spend the rest of my own life in Minnesota. I was only there until I could calm my powers down and stop freezing things and making snowstorms.

Maybe I could visit San Diego when I was better.

Cooking was a nice, meditative task that kept me distracted from my problems, so I got to work on it as soon as I got back to the cabin.

Dredging and browning the meat, chopping the vegetables, adding the herbs and stock, it was all so rote that I could have done it in my sleep, but also took enough attention that I couldn’t watch the clock every moment.

By the time I had my first worry, I was stirring rice and cream and sugar in a saucepan.

Not that he’d taken too long, no. After all, it wasn’t as though showing a house for sale was something that had a specific time limit. It was just that when I glanced out the window, I realized it was already snowing.

He’d said he was going to leave as soon as it started.

Yes, yes, I’d told him he didn’t have to come at all. It had been the sensible thing to do. I certainly didn’t want him to get in a car accident and die because he was determined to come to dinner with me. I didn’t want him to feel bad if he didn’t make it, either.

I shook off my worry and kept working. I couldn’t even tell how long it had been snowing, since there was already old snow on the ground and I couldn’t tell if it was accumulating more.

By the time the pudding was chilling in the fridge and the third set of cookies had come out of the oven, I was pretty sure Kai wasn’t coming that night. The sun was on its descent, and the snow was definitely piling up. An inch or two so far, at least.

Clearly, he’d gotten held up longer than expected, and . . . well of course he hadn’t called. I’d never called him like I’d planned, so he still didn’t have my number.

Ugh, how had I forgotten that?

I set the timer for the last trays of cookies, and turned to grab my phone off the counter. Where had I put Kai’s card? Next to the door, with my keys to the cabin.

It took me almost twenty minutes to compose a text that was properly sad that he clearly wasn’t coming, but not too desperate, and also interested in when he was coming over, and . . . ugh, this was why I’d spent twenty years not complaining that Michael wasn’t as attentive as I’d have liked.

Dating was too hard.

Finally, I sent him the simplest message I could pare it all down to.

Sorry you got caught in the snow, hope everything went well with the house. See you tomorrow?

Then I went back into the kitchen and opened one of the bottles of wine.

I was on my second glass when there was a knock on the door, and for some reason, I didn’t assume it was Kai.

Morwenna, maybe. Except why would she knock on the door of a cabin she owned?

Michael? Oh, that sounded like a nightmare, but also, there was no reason for Michael to come here.

He didn’t even know I was in Minnesota, let alone where, and he’d been pretty clear that he wasn’t interested in ever seeing me again when he’d left.

Gone on about wasting his youth on me, which was ridiculous, since as a witch, he might live another two thousand years if he used his magic well.

So I set down my wine and headed up to the door, taking a moment to unlock the bolt and open up, to find Kai Mori standing there on the stoop.

He was a bit disheveled, his silky black hair looking like someone had been running a hand through it, coat thrown on and not buttoned up, scarf just tossed around the back of the neckline like it had been left on the coat, and not put on deliberately.

“Hey,” he said, breathless and offering a hopeful expression. “Am I too late for dinner?”

My stomach swooped like a whole flock of butterflies had taken up residence, and I caught my breath. “Not even close.” And then something wild took control of my mouth, some ridiculous flirty instinct I’d thought long dead, and I went on. “Even if you were, there’s always breakfast.”

The smile that bloomed across his face made me feel like that early morning after the snow, like the sun was coming up over the pristine white blanket, and we were on the precipice of something incredible. Like the whole world was fresh and new and perfect.

I threw open the door and waved him inside.