Page 79 of Charmed, I'm Sure

“So it’s a war you seek? Do I have anyone on my side? Nyx?” I look over to find him shaking his head, clearly unenthused by the childish display. “Fine!” I shout. “I’ll do it myself!”

I clap my hands together, purple sparks flickering down them as my magic spreads. Dishes are flying out of the cabinets, the chairs are lifting. But instead of panicking or worrying about the magic I’m using, Miles is laughing as he spins plates around. He adds items into the air, seeing how much he can add to it before I can’t manage it.

I’m too busy keeping everything floating, enjoying the hum of the magic freely flowing through me without fear that I don’t even see him move.

“See, it’s not so bad to have fun and laugh, now is it?” he whispers into my ear from behind me. His body heat warms my back as cold chills run down my spine.

I gasp, whipping my head around. Everything falls now that I’m not focusing on the magic, but instead zeroing in on his proximity, the deep woodsy smell of him, and my stomach fluttering.

My walls are screaming at me to push him back, make a joke out of it, to hex him six ways from Sunday. But my body? My body is leaning into the warmth like a cat stretching in the sun.

I snap myself out of it, placing a hand on his chest. His very firm, warm chest. Right over the heart that feels as if it’s running a marathon even though he’s standing still. Not sure what’s coming over me, I lean up on my tip toes, our noses only an inch apart and whisper, “You’re cleaning this up,” before I drift past him, grab my espresso, and march back out of the kitchen.

His low chuckles reach me right before he says, “Worth it.”

I stomp down the hallway to my atrium at the back of the house. Muttering to myself about traitorous raccoons, unhelpful familiars, and a wolf with far too much sunshine. But my hand trembles as I wipe the egg yolk from my shirt, and all I can focus on is the words he whispered and just how much I yearned to feel his lips against mine.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

You’ve Got a Little Something…There

Bellamy

Ididn’t expect him to stick around all day or to follow me to the shop after the whole kitchen fiasco. What I didn’t expect even more was him sitting quietly in the corner of my shop, in the same seat as before, reading a book on Charms as if it’s completely normal for a wolf to read about magic spells.

He’s even got a little notebook and a pen and is he…taking notes? I watch in fascination as he flips it open again and scratches down another sentence before he resumes his reading. Now I’m curious what his notes are? What is so fascinating to him that it inspired him to write it down to remember it?

I mean I know what a witch would write down, and even the type of notes that we would take. But a wolf who can’t perform the spells? I don’t wait to ask his permission or even ask him. I walk behind the chair and watch his finger roam across the page as he reads along. Again, he flips the notebook open and writes something down. It’s now or never. I reach over and snatch the notebook from him as he’s closing it again.

Despite his protests, I flip it open to the notes that he’s taking. And I’m shocked.

1. Charms = not hexes. Hexes = Bellamy mad. So does thatmean charms is Bellamy happy?

2. Intent matters. Does my intent to kiss her count as magic? (Will need to revisit this)

3. Tools needed: candles, herbs, sometimes crystals. It says I need offerings. Does cinnamon rolls count? yes?

4. Protection Charms are basically magical guard dogs. (Note: she won’t need one of these since I’m a guard dog. Clearly this is covered…by me.)

5. Healing charms are the magical equivalent of bandaids. I use wolf snuggles. Same thing?

That is the cutest, most Miles thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think anyone has ever taken notes like this while reading any of the witch textbooks.

I snap the notebook shut, pressing it against my chest. Jerking out of the way every time he reaches for it. “This is what you’ve been writing all day?”

Miles, whose cheeks are a deep shade of red, reaches again for it, without making eye contact with me. “Those are private notes, Trouble. Give it back.”

“Private?” I arch a brow. “You wrote down that cinnamon rolls are equivalent to offerings.”

“Um, they do count,” he insists, the beginning of a smile shyly showing. “I bet Maisie would back me up if I asked her!”

I shake my head, trying with all my inner strength to not smile. “And wolf snuggles being the equivalent of a healing charm?”

I watch in fascination as the blush spreads from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Hmm, what is flustering him?

He attempts to recover by puffing out his chest. “What? You haven’t tried it yet.” He huffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Scientific method says you can’t dismiss a hypothesis until it’s tested. So until you try snuggling with me, you can’t in fact claim they aren’t healing.” He even throws his nose up into the air, closing his eyes, in a full blown attitude.

Okay, but that is too cute. His freckles stand out even darker against the deep blush, pink hair glitters against thechandelier light above, and round glasses reflect the fire that’s dancing behind us. He’s adorable.