Page 25 of A Spell for Midwinter’s Heart

“I think this is my favorite.” He studied the plaque. “It’s really old.”

“Insightful review.”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s different from every other nutcracker here. It’s entirely its own nutcracker.” His eyes landed on her face, and her stomach gave a flutter.

“Well, we’re not actually here to look at nutcrackers; maybe we should…” Rowan indicated a box bench by the window with a nod of her head.

“Just so.”

Settling in, she ran her hand along the surface of the smooth old wood. Gavin joined, settling in close. Very close—as the warm flush of her body pointed out. If she were to only shift to the side by centimeters, their legs would press together.

He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands at his front. Dark eyes slid her way, serious. “We need to talk about what you saw yesterday.”

Oh no.

He had seen her at the inn. Did he think she was some kind of weirdo, getting her jollies spying on them?

She thrust a hand onto his and said, “Look, I am so sorry. I know it was weird for me to be there. I wanted to talk to you about the festival, but you guys took off from the restaurant, and I followed you—” Her voice cut out at the growing confusion on Gavin’s face.

“But that’s not what you’re talking about, is it? ”

“No…” He shook his head, straightening. “What do you mean, you were following me?”

“Last night. You and Hayleigh. At the restaurant and then…the inn. What are you talking about?”

“I was talking about your mom’s store. The Goshen Group reps. The inspector…” His face crumpled in realization. “You saw Hayleigh and me outside the Crescent.”

She nodded, stomach bucking uncomfortably. “Yes.”

He pieced his words together. “So, you saw…” Her glare sufficed as confirmation. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“So, you two didn’t kiss? It was all a trick of the light?”

His brow creased in frustration. “No, we did. But she kissed me. ”

“You didn’t exactly push her away.”

“She caught me by surprise! I wanted to let her down gently. And I guess that I…”

He hesitated, and Rowan’s chest tightened. “You what?”

Gavin released a held breath. “I wanted to be sure of something.”

Rowan moved away from him, crossing her arms. “Yes, I can see how it seemed sensible. Beautiful woman throwing herself at you, and Daddy’ll approve.”

Frustration flashed over his face. “Look, the point is: I am sure. I don’t want to be with Hayleigh.”

“Really?” Her voice came out quiet.

“Really,” he said, and his eyes locked onto hers. “We met up today, and I cleared the air.”

Sweet relief crested through Rowan, leaving her heady. Gavin reached out to take her hand back, and she gazed at it for a moment before her resistance gave way. With a shift, they were close again, and she turned her hand palm up so their fingers entwined.

“That can’t have gone well,” she said, voice soft.

He grimaced. “It wasn’t easy. I tried to be as nice as possible, but…” He stared into the middle distance. “It’s going to be awkward next week.” He idly stroked her palm with one thumb, exploring its creases.

It reminded her of all the other moments she’d watched his thumbs in action, trying not to think of all the places on her body she wanted them to travel.

Clearing her throat, she tried to force herself back on topic. “There’s not a chance it…compromised the deal, did it?”

He chuckled. “We could only be so lucky. No, she doesn’t have that power. Her bosses want this, and it’s on her and the other reps to deliver. Besides, I think she wants the deal more than she wants me.”

Rowan made a face and said, “Well, then she clearly has awful taste.”

Her breath caught in her chest as she realized what she’d just said. But she didn’t have long to worry about it, because he quirked an eyebrow with a pleased “Oh?” And then shifted closer.

“You said…you wanted to be sure,” she ventured. “A kiss told you all that?”

“Yes. Let’s be clear, though. I didn’t kiss her.”

She turned up her nose. “I thought we went over this already?”

His fingers had drifted under the cuff of her sweater and reached the soft skin of her wrist, tripping over exposed veins. The touch left her aware of every bundle of nerve endings and passage of blood as they lit up, primed for sensation.

“I was holding back.” His voice was low, his words purposeful. “That isn’t how I kiss when I mean it.”

It was an opening, an invitation, and even though rational thought attempted to act like a guardrail preventing further passage, the irrational roared right on ahead—a loud, panting beast.

She desperately needed to know: How did he kiss when he meant it?

“Oh?” she asked, wetting her bottom lip with a flick of the tongue. “What’s the difference?”

He closed the remaining space between them in answer, sliding his fingers up her face and then over the ridges of her ears and finally letting them tangle in her hair as he pressed his lips to hers.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, drinking in the heat of him, and his free arm encircled her chest.

Lips and hands roamed, breathing came in gasps, hips ached to climb, all with a hunger that came from parts unknown, accompanied by a ferocity Rowan couldn’t have predicted.

She sucked on that full lower lip that she’d spent so much time studying, her tongue exploring the dimple she’d longed to touch.

His hand came to rest against her lower back, pressing so hard she almost ended up in his lap.

She wouldn’t have minded if she had. In that moment, she was open for anything, ready to dissolve into the tremors of pleasure overtaking every nerve.

When they finally paused, her breathing was heavy, and their foreheads remained pressed together. He finished with a few gentle kisses.

“I see,” she said—breathless, throbbing, undone.

With a crack, the door of every display case in the museum flew open, then shut themselves again with a slam.

“What just happened?” asked Gavin. As he startled, he pulled her closer, instinctively shielding.

“Must have been the wind?” offered Rowan, all the while struggling with two competing feelings—pleasure at being so close, and distress that, once again, she’d lost her grip on her magic.

“Some wind,” murmured Gavin, but his eyes turned back to her, heavily lidded and drunk on the moment.

Before they had a chance to talk about what happened, Norman’s voice rang out from the other room with a bellowed “Welcome in! Welcome in!”

They looked at each other and burst into giddy laughter at finding themselves on the verge of being walked in on by some poor, unsuspecting tourists.

“What will the nutcrackers think?” Rowan murmured with a grin.

“That they are blocks of inanimate wood,” he said, releasing his hold on her reluctantly, his hands trailing along her sides as they withdrew.

“Norman’s going to be pissed if he figures out you really are fornicating with a witch back here.” She ran her fingers through his enviably silky hair and down his neck. His eyes closed in contentment as he rubbed his head into her hand a bit like a cat.

He was definitely a cat, this one. Good thing she’d always preferred them to dogs.

“To hell with Norman,” muttered Gavin. Then his eyes opened, and his expression sobered. “We got distracted.”

“Right. You wanted to talk about why the Goshen Group was staking out downtown yesterday.”

Though it was likely she already knew what he was going to say, she would have to do her best to pretend that it was all coming as a shock.

“They’re interested in buying the building your parents’ shop is in, and there’s more…

” His expression was sympathetic, apologetic.

He went over each point slowly, as if not wanting to hit her with too much, too fast. Little did he know that these revelations had already knocked her straight on her ass.

As he finished, he gazed in her direction, waiting for her response. She did not have to feign remorse, but she did her best to pretend to be surprised. Though she wanted to fill him in on the missing information, she held back, unable to share it without revealing how she knew.

Finally, she asked the one question she didn’t have the answer to. “Does your father seem interested?”

Gavin sighed and nodded. “The numbers they’re throwing out are big. Big enough to make him think.” He paced. “Besides, he keeps bringing up how he’s built all this for me, but if I don’t want to succeed him, he might as well sell…”

The word tumbled out, laced with stress. He paused, putting a hand to his forehead and resting his elbow against the wall.

“Is that…something you’ve talked about? Not succeeding him?”

He shook his head. “But he knows me better than anyone. I can’t say I’ve ever been enthusiastic when the subject’s come up. I mean…” He looked over, staring her in the eyes. “Does that seem like me?”

She did not hesitate a second before replying, “Not at all.”

Relief spread across his face. “Glad to hear it. But if I turn it down, I’m sure he’ll take the offer. He might do it anyway, because what the hell else are we going to do?”

Rowan’s eyes fell, downcast. “I don’t know. That’s why I came looking for you, hoping we could put our heads together…” She shook her head. “What I do know is that putting that on you? It isn’t fair.”

“In the grand scheme of things, it’s pretty far down the list of injustices…but it does not feel great.”

“Which is valid. Being entrapped in a future you don’t want hurts, no matter what it looks like.” She balled her free hand in frustration. “He’s your father. He should want you to be happy!” Gavin studied her for a moment with that crooked smile of his. “What?”

“You wrinkle your nose when you’re indignant.”

“Oh…” she murmured, lifting a hand to touch her nose self-consciously.

He brushed it away, his knuckles coming to rest against her cheek. “It’s adorable. You’re never more beautiful than when you’re worked up over something you care about.” He pretended to look cross. “Ah, distracted again.”

She laughed and bit her lip. Nearby, a family was walking along the displays, perusing the nutcrackers.

“Mayhap we should…” She inclined her head toward the door, and he nodded. Norman eyed them warily as they passed, but if he had heard anything of what happened, he gave no sign of it.

The night air had taken on a biting chill.

“Let me drive you home,” offered Gavin.

He led her to an old gray Subaru. She stopped, staring at it, as an impression of overwhelming familiarity passed through her. This had been his car in high school, she was sure of it.

“What happened to the sports car?” she asked.

“A necessity to get us home, but not my kind of ride.”

She realized then how much her understanding of him had shifted over the last few days. The sports car fit the image she had of him at the airport, but it was entirely dissonant now.

They were quiet as they drove back through the town. Thoughts kept trying to form in her mind, but when they did, she pushed them away. She didn’t want to cage this in words yet. The Midwinter house peeked its way through the dark, snowy wood far too soon.

“Well—” she finally began, right at the same moment in which he said, “Breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” she replied, confused.

“We should eat it.”

“It’s generally recommended.”

“Together. We should eat it together tomorrow.”

The thought of seeing him again so soon, feeling this way again, sent her pulse tap dancing. “I agree. How about brunch, though? We’re on vacation. I am, at least.”

“It’s the weekend, and Monday is Christmas, so, yes, I finally have a few days off.” His expression grew serious for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier—how we should put our heads together.”

“We did put our heads together. It was nice.”

Catching her meaning, he smiled. “Just nice?”

“More than nice. It was…” She leaned across the car and pulled him close, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was slower and gentler than before, as they savored every caress. “Well, it was like that.”

“Much more than nice,” he agreed. “But back to the other topic. I think we should do that. After breakfast.”

“But not during…”

“Not during. Because…” He traced a finger up the side of her face, and the wide-open way he looked at her, wanting, made her feel like something rare and wonderful. “I want to take you on a date first.”

“A breakfast date,” she confirmed, with a smile so large she thought it might break the boundaries of her face.

“Yes, a breakfast date. After which we can talk about other things, but first, a date.”

Energy bubbled through her as she looked away, suddenly self-conscious that he might notice the eagerness on her face and call the whole thing off. “It’s a date, then. Wow, did we ever just say the word ‘date’ a lot, and there I went and did again.”

He followed her to the front door, and when she turned to say good-bye, he stepped in close and his hands came to rest around her hips, and he simply stared, his expression marveling, as if he couldn’t believe she was standing there before him.

“What?” she asked, more of the self-conscious energy escaping in a nervous laugh.

“I just…can’t believe you’re here. That this is happening.”

She didn’t know how to react to the way he was looking at her, other than to joke defensively. “I know, a holiday miracle, right? A Midwinter and a McCreery.”

“That’s…” He looked down, laughing. “Not quite what I meant.” And then he was quiet and leaned in, kissing her again, each wanting embrace drawing her in and closer, pulling her in, like the push and pull of energy in a ritual.

Mine to you, yours to me.

“Good night,” he said with a nod when he finally pulled away, leaving her a mess of gooey feelings.

When he was gone, she lingered and looked up. Mistletoe hung over the door, coated in a clinging accumulation of fine ice crystals. She took the sprig of holly she’d pulled from his hair at the airport out of her jacket pocket, and before she went to bed, she tucked it under her pillow.

Rowan crashed like a log, sleeping more deeply than she had in months, and when she woke up the next morning, all traces of the stress that had kept her up the night before had vanished.

In fact, all her memories of a woman named Hayleigh, who worked for the Goshen Group and kissed Gavin outside the Crescent Inn, were gone. With them went any sense of caution that someone out there could unravel her delicate new happiness with nothing more than a word.

The price had been paid. The rule of three satisfied.