Page 11 of A Touch of Spring Magic (Southern Love Spells #2)

“R eady for the magic?” Storm asked several hours later, when they had the first circle of olive trees planted, and the light was truly fading into night.

“Don’t remind me.” She leaned on her shovel to catch her breath. She knew she was getting stronger and had more endurance, but Storm always seemed ready to handle more. “Sarah and Meghan are coming by tonight to finalize and try the recipes from the dreaded book.”

“Amore,” he sang out. “Who doesn’t want a little magic in their life?”

She was about to say ‘me,’ but did she really mean it?

“You’re…” She bit back the word barely in time. “This whole experience has been magic,” Jessica said, and that wasn’t a lie, nor was it the full truth.

He stared at her with that quizzical lift of one brow that always made her want to be funnier, cleverer, everything more.

“Close your eyes.”

“Huh?” The thrill of that command blew past a PG rating.

“Close them,” he insisted and playfully wagged his finger at her, and she closed her eyes, thinking it was the last sense she’d like to lose around him.

No, maybe no touching would be worse.

She closed her eyes and felt him move closer. She held her breath, limbs loosening. His closeness was tangible and reminded her of grass and tangerines. Storm lightly laid his hands on her shoulders and angled her differently.

“Okay, open.”

“Oh.” Startled, Jessica caught her breath. She stared at the ring of golden lights woven in the smallish olive trees. “Wowza,” she whispered.

“Too much? I realize we need five or more years of growth for the full effect, so this may be a preview of inspiration but…”

“I love it,” she said. “It’s going to be amazing. The perfect touch.” She turned and hugged him, pressing her cheek against his chest, only instead of it being a quick, hard hug, she was holding on like she was drunk on inspiration. “Thank you, Storm, you’ve really helped me to let go of my linear vision and need for control. The work is now…” She laughed as they both said ‘fun’ at the same time.

She looked into his eyes. She had decent height, but she still had to look up at Storm—his angular jaw, high cheekbones, hint of a five-o’clock shadow at this time of day, full lips that smiled so easily, long nose with a hint of a bump—likely from some childhood athletic endeavor.

The moment sizzled across her skin, and Jessica felt on the brink of something prescient. Without planning, she leaned forward, more weight on her toes.

This is crazy.

But she felt magnetized.

“Jessica.” The ache in his voice lodged in her chest like a punch.

She waited for him to do something—touch her, run his fingers through her hair, kiss her. A shudder ran through him, and he closed his eyes, and the spicy taste of victory surged in her mouth.

Kiss me.

She held her breath, caution forgotten. But nothing happened and when she opened her eyes, he watched her as if something hurt.

“Storm?” She reached out first, her fingers curved to cup his cheek.

What was wrong?

And why do I always wait for the man to make the move?

He caught her hand and pressed it to his chest.

“Jay,” he said, and for the first time, she loved the way the nickname from high school sounded on his lips.

“Yes.”

“You said you wanted to keep this business only. That you wanted to focus on business and preparing for Chloe’s party.”

“Ummmmm, yeah.” Why was he bringing this up now?

“Has that changed?”

“Why are you trying to complicate things?”

“Because they’re complicated. Or they can be, and my feelings, Jay, are simple, and yet may prove to be so very complicated.”

A cold slap of reason—and never had she needed one more.

It shouldn’t feel like rejection. He was quoting her own argument. Her own words. But never did she imagine he’d shut her down.

“Have you changed your mind?” About me?

“Never,” he said. “But I can’t do casual if that’s all you’re offering.”

“That’s all it can be,” she said. “We’re both in a rebuilding mode, right? We have to focus on the work, and I apologize for getting carried away. We’re working together. Rules must be obeyed.”

OMG wasn’t that in an ABBA song from Mamma Mia ? And never had she meant anything less. She could not meet his gaze. He could hardly have feelings for her if he was trying to follow some rule book she’d tossed out on day one.

Your rules.

And she felt like the biggest idiot. “We accomplished so much today, more than I’d thought, and I love the lighting design for the grove. Thank you. Wonderful surprise.”

She could not shut up. “I better get going. Lots to do. Sorry. Sorry.” She practically bolted.

“Jay, let’s talk about this.”

“No need,” she said, smile stretched out probably clownishly. “See you tomorrow to plant more olive trees.” As long as she hadn’t scared him away for good. “I’m going to wait at least another week to plant the lavender just in case there’s another frost.”

Why was she still talking?

“Still up to head over to Mount Holly for a scavenger hunt?”

Sitting next to Storm in his truck. Being close to him, but not really with him? No. Not one bit. But fear didn’t breed success. She valued his opinion, truck and his ability to help her carry things. She turned around. Made two fists at her sides. She could keep her cool. She was a professional.

“Definitely. Whatever time works into your schedule. Good night, Storm.”

*

If Jessica had anticipated that driving to Mount Holly with Storm in his truck would be awkward, she was wrong. The next morning, she approached him like he was one of the feral cats—cautiously, nervously, but determined to exude confidence.

He was working—spreading wheelbarrows full of sandy-colored pea gravel in the olive grove.

He straightened as she strode up, two lattes—doctored with real caramel syrup and almond milk—in hand.

She’d learned he couldn’t tolerate dairy—something he’d blushed when admitting—and somehow that physical weakness was endearing. She’d even gone so far as to look online for new dairy-free recipes and had experimented with different milk alternatives when making lunch for Storm, herself and whatever crew he had each day. Last night when she and her sisters had looked through the Southern Love Spells book for finger food ideas for the party, Jessica had vetoed a few that were particularly cheesy.

When pressed why, she’d shared Storm’s food sensitivity, and instead of her sisters teasing her about knowing Storm’s food issues, they’d either nixed the dairy recipes or vowed to have an alternative. Chloe in a burst of practical problem-solving Jessica hadn’t suspected, said they could have cute ingredient tags on what she was calling ‘a grazing board,’ after she’d seen beautiful images on Instagram by an Indian chef based in New Delhi.

“Thank you.” Storm took the latte.

His smile made her melt a little though she’d been bracing herself for this hello—would he be distant? Could she act normally?

He took a sip. “Coconut milk?”

“You have a good palate.” She was a little embarrassed to be caught out experimenting with her caramel sauce recipe for the lattes he loved. “Perhaps you can abandon all this sweaty manual outdoor labor and become a sommelier wearing a suit while you swan around five-star events and vineyards.”

He laughed. “I love sweaty, manual, outdoor labor.” He patted his taut stomach. “Now that I’m thirty, I’m going to have to work harder to keep in shape. Swilling, spitting and opining on wine wouldn’t get me there.”

Even the fact that he knew what a somm did was surprising, but then she wanted to kick herself for assuming anything about Storm or his life.

“I made a new batch of caramel sauce last night with the coconut milk to see if it would be too sweet—my sisters and I made sundaes.”

Why had she shared that detail?

“Wasn’t last night the sister party food bake-off with the spooky book?”

She stared at him, and he laughed. “How did I never twig that you were so superstitious? A CIA spy has nothing on you, Jay Maye.”

“I’m not…”

“Too bad, you’ve been outted. Cheers.” Storm tapped his cup to hers. “None of your secrets are safe anymore. Rustin told me what you were up to and the big mystery about the book when I had a late dinner at his place last night.”

“Who knew Rustin had such a big mouth?”

“Ahhhh cut him a break. He’s happy. Haven’t seen him get much happy.”

“So’s Chloe,” Jessica said, smiling. “It’s so beautiful we can’t even tease her.”

Storm took a bigger draw of the latte and then clutched his chest and staggered back.

“Storm.” Jessica lunged forward and grabbed him. “Storm, what is it? Are you okay? Sit down.” She looked for a place for him to rest that wasn’t the ground. They’d talked about putting some benches in the grove, but maybe a low wall would be more appropriate.

“I’m just messing with you, Jay.” Storm covered her hand with his. “You’ve been so skittish about the book. You don’t really believe in that nonsense, do you? So like what? If we cook something together am I going to fall madly in love with you now, or will you fall madly in love with me?”

“Very funny,” she groused, feeling herself flush a little. What was up with this man? She hadn’t even blushed in college. “Ignore everything Rustin said. I think it’s the sanest policy going forward.”

“Yes, boss.” He laughed when she fake-scowled back.

“We have work to do.” She pointed at the gravel to be spread. They weren’t having any crew come in today since they would be heading out to look at a couple of barn sales and a flea market out toward Mount Holly, and she wanted to have plenty of time, now that her ideas of having focal points, themes and unexpected treasures in the garden.

“That we do. I have some designs I wanted to show you for the water feature—I’m working up something for the Wild Side that Rustin and I are going to build together, and these ideas build off that, so I wanted his opinion and permission.”

“I…” She hesitated. The costs scared her, but when she’d talked to her sisters last night about starting a tax and bookkeeping business as a side hustle, they all remained confident that her nursery would take off—especially the event space and summer concerts and perhaps even Shakespear in the garden in the future.

“It’s not that I won’t love to see them, Storm, it’s just that the money scares me. I feel like I’m hemorrhaging, although it’s more of a mindset because for so long I saved and invested.”

“Dream big. Work harder, Jay. You got this.”

She nearly said, ‘We got this.’

It was nearly sunset when they started for home after a busy day scouring sales, chasing down tips and haggling, but Jessica couldn’t be happier with her purchases. And she’d met a stonemason craftsman who was going to create a unique bench, and who had given her the contact information for other craft artists who’d invited them to their studios.

“That was a win, win, win,” Storm said as drove down the highway.

“My head’s so bursting with ideas that it hurts.”

He looked over and smiled at her, and Jessica’s heart gave a happy leap. He may not want a relationship with her, or maybe he didn’t want one unless she confessed undying love forever, which sounded terrifying, but he was a terrific sounding board.

“Have you had a female friend before?”

“Sure, lots.”

“Don’t tell me you hang out in the friend zone. I won’t believe it.”

“Why, Jessica Maye, that sounds like a compliment.”

“Like you need the praise. Every woman crushed wildly over you in high school.”

“You didn’t.”

There it was. The thing they’d agreed to ignore.

“I wasn’t in a good head space,” Jessica said softly, feeling he deserved some of the truth if not all. “I felt fragile, under a microscope at school and at home. Everyday felt like sink or swim, and I felt like I was drowning.”

“Jay, I didn’t know.” He covered her hand with his and it felt so good to be heard and accepted. He didn’t tell her she was misremembering or being melodramatic.

“I wish I’d known. I wouldn’t have been so…well, confrontational and always vying for your attention is the polite way to put it,” he admitted.

Feeling daring, she flipped her hand so they were palm to palm fingers interlaced.

“You exuded confidence like you had everything except self-doubt.”

“I swam in doubt. I felt like I was living this double life—trying so hard to be perfect, to always win and be at the top. To be the prettiest, the smartest, most popular, involved in everything. And the perfect daughter, never a hair out of place or a stain on my silk blouse or a missed step in a cheer routine. I was so tired, but…” She paused, nibbled her lip, remembering. “I think I blamed my mom and dad, but really, I did it to myself. Everything was a competition, a win-lose, no other choices. I think that’s why you bothered me,” she admitted. “Everyone liked you. They really liked you, even me because you were so nice, always lifting everyone up even as you floated above us while I thrashed like a spastic shark.”

“That’s an image.” He laughed and so did she.

It felt good talking to him so honestly—not just about the past but about the now.

“Working with you here on the garden too has been a revelation. I realize I never have been really collaborative. I always wanted to prove myself. To win. Chloe’s always been win-win.”

She laid her head back against the seat of his truck.

“Sounds so stupid now. Narcissistic. Negative. Greedy.”

“I don’t think you can be an A-plus narcissist with that much regret and self-awareness.”

She laughed. “Still,” she mused, barely resisting the urge to smooth his hair falling over his forehead. The day was warm, heralding spring’s arrival, and he had part of his window rolled down. “I don’t believe you spend much time lurking in the friend zone. When we were nominated homecoming king and queen, I got so many hate whispers and mean notes tossed my way along with a lot of gossip and side-eye.”

“Really? Why? Everyone loved you. Everyone,” he repeated the last word under his breath, and didn’t meet her gaze, so she too pretended not to hear.

There were so many things she wished she hadn’t said so many years ago. She figured she’d need to give half the town… What was that golf term her dad used?

“Do you play golf?”

“Sure. Caddied at the Cramer Mountain golf club to learn the game and make some extra cash. Caddied for your dad a lot.”

She stared at him like he was a stranger.

“Why’d you want to learn the game?” She couldn’t imagine anything more boring.

“Make social contacts that might lead to work opportunities. It’s outside. Beautiful landscaping, fresh air, you can do it all over the world and well into old age. What’s not to love?”

Jessica hadn’t thought about golf like that. “Saying it like that,” she marveled. “I thought of it as a time suck, my dad spending a lot of time away from us missing my dance recitals or games and wearing bad pants and weird shoes.”

Not to mention how many of the gunners at the accounting firm she’d worked for took up the game, just hoping to get invited to a golf outing.

He laughed. “You don’t need to wear bad pants, and when I have a family, I won’t miss important events for golfing. But I’d also teach my kids and wife to golf so we’d all be together. I wouldn’t want to miss any time with them.”

Her heart ached for all the time he had missed with his mom and sister, and she reached out and brushed her finger along his hand, before tucking her hand in her lap again.

Of course Storm wanted a family.

“Why haven’t you married yet?” she asked.

“I want to, but I haven’t met a woman I think would be able or willing to go the distance. And I’ve been building up my business. School took longer as I had to work to pay for it, so I never went full time. Moved around for job opportunities and training but knew I always wanted to come back to Belmont, so meeting local seemed better in the long run.”

Jessica nodded. All of those sounded like solid reasons. But there was nothing there about fear. Lack of trust.

“What’s that golf term that people use in everyday situations when you’ve made a mistake of something?”

“Mulligan. It’s a do-over free of charge.”

Jessica nodded. She wanted a mulligan with Storm. Maybe even two, but she’d have to earn them. Prove herself to him, but first to herself.

“It’s a little like forgiveness?” She looked at him as he steered around an older driver who pulled into his lane going half the speed of traffic as she merged onto the highway. Storm didn’t complain or swear, just let her in and safely changed lanes.

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

Jessica watched the sky turn pink and she thought she’d need to not only earn Storm’s forgiveness but quite possibly her own as well.