Page 58 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)

Magnolia

One Year Later…

“Thank you,” I said with a bemused smile as someone handed me a beautiful blush-colored peony. I quirked a confused brow at Taylor, but he just shrugged in response, looping his arm around my shoulders as we continued walking through town square.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in vivid shades of orange and pink, turning the clouds a stunning lavender that had me seriously contemplating a hair color change.

“That was odd,” I murmured once we were far enough away.

“Yeah?” There was an edge of nervousness to his tone.

“Taylor,” I drawled, stopping abruptly on the sidewalk and turning toward him. “What’s going on?”

“What? Nothing.” His hand tightened on mine. “Come on, we’re going to be late for our dinner reservation.”

Narrowing my gaze, I let him guide me forward, suspicion prickling at the edges of my mind.

The day had been absolutely amazing—full of fun little surprises, from my favorite breakfast to a trip to the Audubon Zoo in New Orleans—but there had been an undercurrent of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

At first, I chalked it up to exhaustion; Taylor had been working a string of graveyard shifts, our hours completely opposite to the point that we barely saw each other in passing.

I’d been thrilled to learn he had a few days off before switching back to days.

Even more so when he told me he had planned an entire day for us.

We could have stayed home, snuggled up with our two little fur babies, wrapped in each other and ignoring the world, and it still would have been a perfect day.

But the fact that he’d planned every detail—apparently down to the minute—had my heart skittering in my chest, my knees weak, and the need to climb the man like a tree nearly impossible to ignore.

A cool breeze kissed my cheeks, sneaking past the collar of my coat, and a shiver wracked my body.

Wrapping my arms around Taylor’s waist, I huddled in close to absorb his warmth.

Was this the best way to walk with someone?

No, probably not—I had to make a conscious effort not to trip over either of our feet.

But the heat radiating off him, the security I felt when he tightened his hold on me? Well worth the tripping hazard.

“Oh, look at you two,” Mrs. Dorothy cooed as she stepped out of the flower shop.

“Hey, Mrs. Dotty,” we responded in unison.

Even a year later, it was still a smidge surreal to be on the receiving end of friendly smiles and warm welcomes from people who once seemed to abhor my presence.

“Those are pretty,” I gestured toward her bouquet with a tilt of my chin, refusing to release Taylor and lose his warmth for even a second. January was always cold, but Mother above, this was ridiculous. I couldn’t feel my nose anymore.

“Aren’t they?” She brought the bundle to her nose, inhaling deeply before beaming at me. “Here, cher. You take one.”

“What? No, Mrs. Dotty, that’s okay. I don’t—”

My words fell on deaf ears. She had already plucked a stem from her arrangement and was holding it out to me.

“It complements your other one quite nicely, don’t you think?” she asked, something flickering in her brown eyes that I couldn’t quite place.

“It does,” I responded softly, taking the dark pink peony she offered and adding it to the other in my opposite hand.

What the hell is going on?

We said our goodbyes, and as Dorothy walked away, I turned my glare on Taylor. “You’re up to something.”

“Why would you think that?” he asked, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips as he pulled me closer and started walking again.

“Gee, cowboy. I don’t know.” I waved the flowers in front of his face.

“Maybe they’re just being nice.”

“Not likely.”

“Never know, sunshine. Maybe they just wanted to share a pretty flower with a pretty lady.”

“Maybe you’re full of shit,” I said with a laugh. His lips curled upward at the corners, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I’m on to you, Hallows.”

“Whatever you say, sunshine.”

By the time we reached the restaurant, I had accumulated a grand total of six peonies, and every time Taylor looked at me, he burst into laughter. Not that I could blame him. I was pretty sure I had been stuck in a perpetual state of shock.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” I balked as I stepped through the doors of Cypress on the Bayou, awe swallowing the rest of my words.

I’d walked past the restaurant countless times but never stepped inside. Never had a reason to, since it was the fanciest place in town, and their prices were a tad out of my range for a casual dinner.

Which, apparently, this was not.

Rich, polished mahogany with gold and cream accents filled the space.

Etched glass panels lined the area around the center bar, depicting the moss-draped trees our state was known for.

The lights were dimmed—bright enough to see but low enough to create a warm, intimate ambiance.

It was gorgeous, and the aromas wafting through the air had my mouth watering instantly.

Taylor merely shrugged in response to my question, letting the door swing shut behind him as he led me toward the hostess stand.

“Ah, Mr. Hallows. We have your table all set for you. If you’d both follow me.”

Taylor laced his fingers through mine, tugging me along as we wove through the restaurant toward the back.

“Where are we going?” I asked in a hushed whisper.

Taylor stopped in front of the double doors leading to the kitchen. He pulled me out of the way as they swung shut behind the hostess, then cupped my face in his hands.

“Mags, baby. I need you to trust me.” His thumbs brushed along my jaw. “Stop trying to figure out what’s going on and just enjoy it. Please. You’re making me nervous.”

I bobbed my head and took a steadying breath.

“Good.”

Taylor pressed his lips to mine, soft yet demanding in a way that turned my insides to liquid.

Was I hungry? Absolutely. My stomach felt like it would claw its way out of my body if I didn’t feed it soon.

But as his mouth moved over mine, slow and languid, as his hands slid into the hair at the nape of my neck…

I was famished for him.

Taylor broke the kiss—far too soon, if you asked me—and grasped both my hands in his before backing through the swinging doors.

The kitchen noise engulfed me instantly. The symphony of orders being called, the rhythmic clatter of pans, the chorus of yes, chef warmed my heart. White-coated chefs moved with the effortless coordination of a dance, and the scent of sautéed garlic and fresh herbs filled my lungs.

“What do you think?” Taylor asked, allowing me a moment to take it all in before leading me to where the hostess stood waiting.

“This is amazing, Taylor.”

The delicate scrape of wood against tile caught my attention as he pulled out my chair. I finally tore my gaze from the flurry of kitchen staff, only to freeze in place.

A vase of peonies—exactly like the ones in my hand—sat at the far edge of the table. Tea lights flickered along the crisp white linen, gold chargers and matching silverware marking our places.

“Holy shit, cowboy,” I breathed, tears burning the backs of my eyes as I lifted a trembling hand to my mouth.

“Do you like it?” There was a nervous wobble to his words that made my heart clench.

I turned to meet his gaze, finding those sapphire blues shining with unshed tears of their own.

“I love it. Thank you.”

“I feel like a whale,” I groaned dramatically as Taylor helped me out of the car when we got back home.

Dinner had been delicious… divine… honestly, I wasn’t even sure.

At some point, I was pretty sure I blacked out from the sheer explosion of flavors dancing over my taste buds.

But now that we were home, all I wanted to do was curl up on the couch and pass the fuck out.

I’d make it to bed eventually, I was sure—but the couch was closer, and the food coma was calling my name.

“Cutest whale I’ve ever seen,” he chuckled, pulling me from the car and into his arms. “Did you have a good day?” he asked, pressing a kiss to my crown.

“It was the best day. Thank you, for everything.” I pushed onto my toes, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. “I think I’m going to go die now, though. Death by food overload.”

His chest vibrated against mine as he laughed, his hand trailing soothing lines up and down my spine.

“Do you think you could hold off on your coma for a little bit?” He released me and reached into the car for my vase of flowers. “I have one more surprise for you.”

“Another one?” I squawked, in a very unladylike manner.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Taylor held the vase in one arm and linked his opposite hand with mine. Interest thoroughly piqued, I followed—not that I wouldn’t have anyway, considering I lived there and all.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” he mused as he stepped through the front door.

The enchantments I’d woven into the house tickled over my skin the second I crossed the threshold.

It was the same welcoming sensation I felt every time I walked into the manor—like a warm embrace wrapping around me.

The fact that Taylor could feel it, too, had me wondering if perhaps he had a witch somewhere in his bloodline.

“You will,” I said with a shrug as I hung my coat on the rack beside the door. But when I turned back toward Taylor, all the nervousness I’d sensed from him earlier had magnified tenfold, radiating from every tense line of his body.

“Are you okay?” I asked, concern edging my words as I stepped forward and took his fidgeting hands.

“Yeah, yeah. Just, uh… close your eyes.”

“Taylor, what’s going—”

Pulling his hands free, he cradled my face between his palms and slanted his mouth over mine.

My stomach flipped, heart hammering as his lips brushed against mine, slow and teasing. Each kiss sent heat curling low in my belly, embers stoked to life with every press, every pull, every soft exhale of his breath.

Food coma be damned, I wanted him to devour me.