Page 7 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)

Rougarou, is that you?

Taylor

What the fuck was I thinking? That was the only thought circulating through my mind the morning after the mixer. I stood on my parent’s back porch, a cup of black coffee in my hand, and watched the early morning light filter through the Spanish Moss on the trees.

I knew why I went. My mom had insisted on it, her eyes pleading as she laid on the thickest guilt trip known to man when we’d met for lunch.

I took a long drag of my now tepid coffee and watched the mist dance along the grass, the dew shimmering in the growing sunlight as I replayed our conversation in my mind.

“I signed you up for a mixer in town tonight.” The words were completely casual as the waitress walked away from our table after taking our drink orders.

“Mama—”

“Don’t you ‘mama’ me. You’re thirty-four.

It’s time you settled down.” I rolled my eyes—something you should never do to a mother, let alone a Southern one—and she smacked me upside the head like she had when I was a teenager.

“I’m not getting any younger, you know. I’d like to have some grandbabies before I’m eighty. ”

Never mind the fact that she was barely in her sixties, she acted like she was turning eighty tomorrow and would die the day after. She also seemed to have selective memory since her daughter, my thirty-two-year-old sister, was getting married the next year.

“Ma, Addy is getting married soon. Why can’t she give you grandkids?”

Her mouth popped open, hand flying to the pearls around her neck in stereotypical Southern woman fashion like I’d just cursed in church. “Adelaide will have babies when she’s ready.”

When I raised a brow at her words, she grasped my hand, her eyes turning all dewy and sentimental. “I just want you to be happy, Taylor.”

“Laying it on kind of thick there, Ma.”

“It’s just because I love you. I signed you up for it. You’re going.” Just as the last syllable left her lips, our drinks arrived, and she switched subjects. “So, how’s work?”

The sound of the French doors opening behind me pulled me from my reverie, and I listened to the shuffle of soft footfalls as the interloper sidled up beside me.

“Hey, TayTay,” Addy said with a smile before taking a sip of her coffee.

She was the only person on the planet allowed to call me that. It started when she was a toddler, unable—or unwilling—to say Taylor, and it just… stuck.

“Morning, Addy. You’re much too chipper for six a.m.,” I grumbled.

“And you’re much too morose. What’s got you all Grumpy Gus this morning?”

After taking a sip of my coffee and grimacing at the cold liquid that should have been hot, I sighed. “Mom signed me up for the mixer down at CharCutie last night, and I went.”

The squeal that came out of my sister’s mouth was far too loud when the magic bean juice hadn’t worked its… well… magic yet.

“Did you meet someone? Are you bringing them to the engagement party? Oh my gosh, what’s her name?”

Rolling my eyes, I turned toward my sister and placed a hand over her mouth to keep her from rambling anymore. Her eyes popped wide before turning into a glare.

“If I remove my hand, will you stop?” I asked, raising a brow. Addy huffed into my palm but nodded. “Good.” Begrudgingly, I did just that and placated her with answers.

Yes, I went.

There’s no name to tell because I didn’t meet anyone.

No, I’m not bringing anyone to the engagement party… because I didn’t meet anyone.

No, I will not be going again.

She didn’t need to know that the spitfire owner was the one who’d captured my attention.

Didn’t need to know that ruffling Magnolia Bellevue’s feathers was the most fun I’d had in years.

Because if she did, I’d never hear the end of it from her or our mom.

It wouldn’t matter that Magnolia seemed to try to light me on fire with her eyes anytime she saw me.

If they knew that anyone had caught my eye, they’d be up my ass for details that didn’t exist and planning my wedding before I even asked them on a date.

Addy looked at me skeptically, her eyes narrowing as if she could see through my carefully placed mask and read my mind. “I don’t believe you for a second, but I’ll let it slide.”

Shit, maybe she could.

After a beat of silence, I looked down at my watch, the hands nearing the six-thirty mark.

Shit. I had a shift in thirty minutes. “Addy, I love you, but I gotta head out before Dad has an aneurysm.” I gave her a peck on the cheek, then turned for the door, her words following me as I entered the house.

“It’s a beautiful day to save lives!”

Someone really needed to talk to her about her obsession with Grey’s Anatomy… and the difference between an emergency room doctor and a neurosurgeon. A shiver took over my body at the realization that A) I knew the quote, and B) I knew it was said by Derek Shepherd and that he was a neurosurgeon.

I really need to find my own place.

Work had been a cluster-fuck, and that was putting it mildly.

Outside of the usual emergency room visits from people who couldn’t get in to see their primary care doctors because it was the weekend—colds, flu, strep, etcetera—there were sprained ankles, psych holds, asthma attacks from the rapid drop in temperature, the list just went on and on.

But that’s all just a day in the life of an ER doctor.

What pushed it over the top were the hunting idiots.

It was basically hunting season—of some kind or another—all year round in Louisiana, but deer season was just ridiculous.

I stitched up not one, not two, but three hands that had been sliced open by a gutting knife because some drunk idiots decided that they couldn’t wait until they’d sobered up before whipping out sharp objects.

I was exhausted and in desperate need of a shower by the time my twelve-hour shift ended at seven…

fifty-two. Ever heard of a medical professional leaving on time?

Yeah, me neither. But instead of heading back to my parent’s house to do just that, I swung by the local grocery store near the hospital to grab some Blue Bell ice cream and beer.

Blue Bell was the best damn ice cream there was, no matter what anyone else said, and unfortunately for me, it was also damned near impossible to find outside of the South.

Since I did my residency in the northeast, I hadn’t had it in years.

Couple that with the shit day I just had?

I didn’t care if I had to spend extra hours in the gym; I was going to eat the damn ice cream.

I’d just turned the corner in the frozen dessert aisle, buggy full of odds and ends that I’d remembered I needed and some that I didn’t, when cotton candy-colored hair above bright baby blues pulled my attention from the row of freezers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Magnolia said, not quite under her breath.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I smiled, inching my cart closer to where she was standing.

God, she was beautiful. There was not a single speck of makeup on her face, allowing the dusting of freckles across her cheeks their moment to shine.

Her hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head, little wispy pieces sticking out on all sides and falling into her face.

And there were paint splotches covering her pale jean overalls and the black Chucks on her feet.

I knew I was staring, but I hadn’t realized how long I’d been staring until she cleared her throat.

“Taylor? Can I help you with something?” She sounded as exhausted as I felt. I had no clue whether it was due to my mere existence or the day she’d had.

A nervous laugh slipped past my lips, and I tried—and failed—to cover it with a cough.

Why do I turn into a teenager around this woman?

Glancing toward the freezer, I thanked whatever benevolent being was watching me at that moment for a reason to have approached her.

“Yeah, actually. You’re in my way.” Shit. Should not have said it that way.

“Excuse me?”

Yep, definitely fucked that up. “The freezer. You’re in front of the one I need to get into.”

Magnolia quirked a brow, shifting her gaze to the glass door, then back to me. “You’re buying ice cream?”

“It would appear that way, yes.”

“Let me guess, you’re a natural vanilla bean kind of guy.”

“What gave you that impression?”

Her eyes raked down my frame, and I swore I could see heat behind that gaze, but whatever it was had extinguished by the time they returned to my face. “I mean, look at you. There’s no way you eat the super sugary stuff, like buttered pecan.”

The chuckle that came out was darker than I had intended it to be, and evidently, my mouth ran away from my brain because there was no stopping what came out next. “Trust me, cher, there’s nothing vanilla about me.”

Should I have said that? Probably not. But watching her cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink as her mouth popped open in the tiniest little o before she subconsciously pulled her bottom lip between her teeth was beyond worth it.

I kept my eyes glued to hers as I gently maneuvered her buggy out of the way of the freezer door and pulled it open.

The frigid air broke the spell, and Magnolia looked anywhere but at me while I reached in for my ice cream.

Package secured, I turned back around and was met with a brow raised in skepticism and eyes that flicked from my gallon of frozen deliciousness to my face. “What?”

“Rocky Road, interesting.”

“Well, it seems you took the last of the chocolate chip cookie dough, so this is a close second.” I shrugged, placing my bounty in my cart.

“You like chocolate chip cookie dough?”

“It’s ice cream and cookie dough. What’s not to like?”

“Can’t argue with that logic.”

“I’m sorry. Did the Magnolia Bellevue just agree with me? Someone find a calendar and write that down.”

“Fuck off. I am capable of being nice, ya’ know,” she said with a light laugh.

“I know. It’s just nice to be the one it’s directed at for once.”