Page 1 of Homesick, Lovesick (Harper Valley Witch #3)

Nine months was possibly a little early for an engagement ring.

On the other hand, they'd known each other for a million years as friends and apparently been mutually pining in miserable silence for much of that time.

Match was his forever after.

Ronan had known that for a long time.

He'd actually bought the ring around the seventh month mark, but had been trying to be patient.

He was still, as his uncles would say, pleased as punch with it.

What the jeweler had called a fancy vivid orange diamond, emerald cut, set in 4k gold with yellow diamond side and accent stones.

Match would probably kill him for buying something so expensive, but he was worth a ring a million times more expensive.

Ronan snapped the ring box shut and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket.

It was warm enough he didn't really need a jacket, but there was nowhere else to hide the ring that Match wouldn't immediately notice.

Thankfully, it was August.

Still technically summer, but fall came quickly up in the mountains, and by September it really would be time for a jacket.

Not that they were likely to be back home in September, though he was all for that kind of plot twist.

He climbed out of his car and closed the door, then entered the house through the back like always.

The little table by the door was piled with mail, a few bills but mostly letters and greeting cards.

Ever since Match sealed away Luna's powers, then done the same to her mother and a few others in their town, and read off the eastern council like they were bad children, the attention had been damn near popstar levels.

There were even letters, all with fancy seals and logos, in the small trashcan beneath the table.

Once it hadn't really caught more than junk mail and the odd tissue, but now it was always nearly overflowing with offers from people who wanted Match to be their witch at any cost.

Strangely, Match wasn't home.

The door had been unlocked, and it looked like he'd made tea recently as the kettle was still warm, but the tea was abandoned on the living room table, and Match was nowhere to be found.

Not even out with the pixies, where he easily became distracted because he could sit in there with them now and loved doing so.

He pulled out his phone to make certain he hadn't missed any texts, but the screen was definitely clear of any alerts.

So someone must have asked him for help with something or whatnot, and he hadn't thought it was worth texting.

Probably thought it would take five minutes, and it had spiraled.

Leaving it for the moment, he went into the bedroom to pack his bags for yet another excursion.

This time Match had agreed to help out with some particularly difficult warding.

Unusual, since wards by their nature were unique to their witch, but with such a large area to cover, and so many things large and small to account for, it would take multiple witches to accomplish it.

They'd be warding an entire sprawling territory, half of a large county, as that was easier than warding each and every property, since it was such a rural area—and treacherous on top of that, all harsh mountain and dense forest.

Rife with natural and supernatural peril.

Easy to get lost in, easy to die in.

So they would be setting up all manner of wards that would persuade various threats to stay to certain areas and keep others out of the whole territory, confine them to public land, where more qualified experts could manage things and the poor creatures would be left in peace.

Since wards had to be keyed to the person or persons in charge of the territory, Match would build the wards himself and then spend another week at the end handing them over to the appropriate witch, a woman named Minerva.

If she had to do the whole thing on her own, it would take upwards of a decade.

Experienced though Match and Ronan were with mountain hiking, he was grateful they'd have a couple of locals with them for the days upon days of hiking they'd be doing, a week at a time before returning to rest and resupply for a few days before heading out again.

There'd be a big two week break in the middle, and then work would resume, and they probably wouldn't finish until the end of October—best case scenario.

If they had to deal with inclement weather and other unforeseen problems, it could take through the rest of the year.

And wouldn't that fucking suck, but there was nothing for it.

Match really wanted to help.

These sorts of projects were exactly his forte, and Ronan would be his paladin on the quest no matter what.

Only for love would he spend actual, real, literal months camping.

Ugh.

He'd had more than enough of that during his years and years of paladin training.

Leaving his suitcase, duffel, and laptop bags by the door, he ventured into the kitchen in search of a snack.

Benny had made them a batch of his special peanut butter brownies, and Ronan had already eaten a third of them with absolutely no remorse.

Chocolate and peanut butter and topped with ganache? Yeah, they were getting gone.

Anyway, all the hiking he was about to do would burn his calories for the next two years.

Taking a giant chomp of brownie, he rifled in the fridge for the milk, filled a large glass, then snitched a second brownie and carried it all into the living room.

Still no messages on his phone, so either Match would be back very soon, or he was thoroughly distracted by whatever he was doing.

Since his laptop was packed up, he couldn't play any of his silly games, so he instead turned on the TV—then turned it right off again when everything felt too loud and bright.

Finishing his snack, he put the cup in the dishwasher then decided to get a shower.

Maybe by the time he was out, Match would be back.

Pulling the ring out of his pocket, he stashed it in his nightstand behind all the other junk, then stripped off his clothes, lobbing them into the hamper as he went, and went into the bathroom and got the shower going.

When steam started spilling into the bathroom, he slid inside and groaned as the hot water struck his stiff body and immediately started easing the tensions of the day.

Most of it was his fault, sending his anxiety spiraling by overthinking proposing to the love of his life, instead of just acting, but…

Sighing, he turned away from the hot water pelting his face and reached for the soap—then nearly jumped out of his skin when the shower curtain was opened.

"Fuck, you scared the shit out of me."

Match laughed.

"I called your name twice, doofus. Does that mean you don't want company?"

"Get your ass in here,"

Ronan replied.

Still laughing, Match ditched his clothes with record speed and stepped inside, closing the curtain behind him and banishing all the evil cold air that had gotten inside.

"What's up, handsome. Long time no see."

Ronan kissed him, then murmured against his mouth, "You taste like bubblegum."

"Probably because I was chewing on bubblegum,"

Match said, grinning and then kissing him again.

Rolling his eyes, Ronan fetched the shampoo and set to work on Match's hair. They washed each other back and forth, easy and almost lazy, the routine comfortingly familiar. When they eventually finished and climbed out, the water was growing cold because Match sorely needed a more robust water heater.

"So where did you mysteriously vanish to? I thought you'd be here fretting over what to pack, but you were nowhere to be found."

Ronan finished toweling off, then pulled on sweats and an old t-shirt that said CAMELOT across the front and had the crest of Camelot across the back. It was an old gift from Match, because he loved nothing more than making jokes about him and Benny being knights. Knights of the Dining Room Table and other variations on that theme were his particular favorite, and the more exasperated Ronan and Benny were, the better.

It was Match who rolled his eyes this time.

"Mrs. Carlow wanted me to investigate a 'weird noise in her basement,' but there was nothing down there except mice and her very fat cat. I think she just wanted an excuse to trap me in her kitchen and natter at me until her 'dear sweet granddaughter' got home. Like I don't know damn good and well who her granddaughter is."

He huffed, then tugged on a long-sleeved gray t-shirt and loose sleep pants in a ridiculous plaid pattern of various shades of pink.

The granddaughter in question was Maddy, the jackass coward who'd thrown Match, and decades of friendship, out of her shop just because of a toothless threat from the mayor. She'd emailed and snail-mailed apologies, and tried to speak to Match in public a couple of times when their paths crossed, but Match had assiduously avoided her and the other jerks the past few months.

He'd have to speak to them eventually, as his disconnect with Harper Valley had cast something of a pall over the town, but Ronan definitely wasn't going to push him on it. Whatever time he needed, he would get. Everyone who didn't like that could choke on it and drown in their guilt for all he cared.

He remembered far too well all the torment that had been visited on him when he'd walked away from his parents, stopping just shy of no contact. Everyone had come down on him, but nobody had yelled at them.

So yeah, Match could do or not do whatever the hell he wanted, and Ronan would have his back.

Going into the kitchen, Match set to work making dinner. Ronan kept him company, admired as he worked, but stayed out of his way. He could cook okay, and did his share, but Match was the better cook by leagues, and much like when he was doing his witchy thing, he did not like interference.

When dinner was ready, they sat at the little table in the kitchen, a cute thing that Match had grabbed at the thrift store and cleaned up meticulously. If not for some of the deeper scratches and the patch job that made it stop wobbling, it could have been brand new.

After they'd eaten, Ronan did the dishes and tidied the kitchen while Match fed his pixies and then finished up his packing.

By the time they were done with everything and the house closed up for the night, Ronan was almost ready to just pass right out.

Almost.

Once they were in bed, before Match could turn off the light on his nightstand, Ronan pulled him over and atop him, threading a hand through his hair and tugging him down into a lengthy kiss.

"So what does a man have to do to get his boyfriend to ride him?"

Match laughed and kissed him again, then squirmed free.

"I think he would just have to get undressed."

He laughed harder as Ronan's clothes went flying to the floor in record time, sending his own right after them. Then Ronan pushed Match into the bedding and put his mouth to all that lovely skin, soaking up the moans and pleas and gasps like water on a hot day. Warm fingers glided over his skin, gripping intermittently, as if Match couldn't decide if he wanted to pull Ronan closer or push him away.

Eventually, he decided on push, shoving Ronan onto his back and straddling him.

"I believe you had a request, paladin."

He leaned over to grab the lube from Ronan's nightstand drawer, then rose up on his knees to work himself open, eyes locked with Ronan's nearly the entire time.

Ronan groaned when he finally withdrew his fingers and said, "Now."

He took hold of Ronan's cock, lined it up, and sank down with agonizing slowness, leaving them both panting and trembling by the time Ronan was fully inside him.

His beautiful tattoos shimmered ever so faintly in the muted light, and his eyes damn near glowed, his power always so close to the surface when his emotions were high, like static electricity crackling in the air.

Ronan held fast to his hips as Match began to fuck himself on Ronan's cock, lifting up and driving back down, drops of sweat racing down his skin and occasionally splashing on Ronan. His hands were slick where they held tight, his body too fucking hot as he equaled Match's movement thrust for thrust, sinking in as deep as he could go, always desperate for more more more because there was no such thing as too much when it came to Match. He had waited and pined so long for this beautiful man, and it would always leave him dizzy and breathless that Match wanted him too.

He let go of one hip to get a hand around Match's cock, stroking him in time with their movements. Match gasped out his name, clamped down tight on his cock, and they were both coming with long, deep groans.

When they could move again, Match pulled off him and rolled over to his side of the bed. Ronan got them cleaned up and then double-checked all the doors and windows were locked because he couldn't not.

Back in the bedroom, Match had turned off his light, leaving only hints of moonlight filtering through gauzy curtains. The bedroom smelled like them, warm and comforting, with a hint of fresh green from the five thousand plants around the house. Where there was a hedge witch, there were plants.

Once they were done with all the stupid traveling, Match wanted to work in earnest on the backyard, turn it fully into a proper garden, with sufficient warding, so the pixies could roam freely. It would take most of a year just for the wards, longer if work got busy, and he had to use his energy there, but the way his face lit up when he talked about it was all that mattered to Ronan.

Cuddling up behind him, he kissed Match's shoulder and settled in to sleep.

Hopefully, hopefully, this trip would go smoothly, they'd get the work done, and could come home and be done with extracurricular projects for a little while. If he was really lucky, they could also start planning a wedding.

He just had to ask the fucking question first. Surely trekking through the woods would provide a perfect opportunity. All that nature, maybe a pretty waterfall…