A Little Taste of Magic

by M. J. O'Shea

  It was barely a ten-minute drive out of Baxter Hollow to the gates of his family’s estate, close enough that his sisters walked and rode their bikes into town most days. McKenna was old enough to drive— a fact that made Gray tremble at the prospect – but she didn’t do it very often.

  Baxter House was as neat and picturesque as Baxter Hollow itself. The house was square and perfect, kept pristine by a rather loyal staff. It was surrounded by a gravel drive that started at the front gate and wound neatly through grounds that were trimmed and weeded and pruned on a regular basis.

  Gray remembered running through those grounds when he was young, with Leo at first and then with McKenna as well when she’d gotten old enough to participate in their games. He remembered sitting at his desk in school, itching to get out into the sun and run free. That was before his dad started to change, before he disappeared, before the police found him face down months later in a river in Boston high on more things than they could count. The years of running carefree were a long time ago.

  Gray wasn’t that same person anymore, he hadn’t been since he’d had to assume responsibilities for his family. Sometimes the wind called him, still, made him want to leave his desk and his piles of work and fly like he once had. That wasn’t going to happen. He had to manage things. Had ever since his father had left him with a huge pile of things to manage and not much help to do it.

  “Master Gray,” Colby the butler intoned when he pulled his car up to the front door. The staff had been expecting him, he was sure. Madeline Haley wasn’t good at everything, but she was quite an expert in running a historical house and a full staff.

  “Colby. It’s good to see you.” Gray nodded in his direction. Colby gestured for another staff member to pull Gray’s car around into the garages off to the left of the main house. They still kept a full stable of horses for riding and hunting, of course, but Gray often wondered what the place would’ve looked like back when horses and carriages ran the entire thing.

  “Gray!” A small, wiry body came catapulting into him.

  “Hi, Luna love. Where is everyone?”

  “Waiting in the conservatory for you. Mother decided we’d eat out there today since the sun is shining.”

  Gray had always loved the conservatory. The thought of the big airy room with its Victorian themed furniture and huge ceiling fans helped his nerves at being in a place where he felt like he no longer belonged. “Lead the way, darling.”

  Luna grabbed a hand and pulled Gray towards the conservatory where he assumed dinner was being held until he arrived.

  ”Hello, sweetheart,” his mother said softly when he walked in. She stood and gave him a kiss on the cheek in greeting. McKenna and Fallon followed suit, and Gray shook Jason’s hand politely. The new baby was nowhere to be seen — probably in bed or with her nurse. Gray wasn’t surprised.

  “You’re late,” McKenna said. “I’m starving.”

  “McKenna,” Madeline murmured.

  McKenna rolled her eyes. “Did Mother tell you we’re going to France for Christmas? Chamonix.”

  Gray got a slight ache in his belly. Of course they were. “That sounds wonderful. When would you be leaving?”

  “Just after the girls get out of school,” Madeline told him. “I would have gotten a ticket for you, but I know how busy you always are in town.”

  Right. Of course. “I am. I have a lot to get done. I couldn’t afford to be away that many weeks.”

  McKenna gave Gray a long look. He figured she saw through him. She usually did. “Maybe I’ll stay back as well. I have to start getting ready for my AP history project,” she said. “It’s due in March. Just because I got early acceptance doesn’t mean I can slack.”

  “McKenna, dear. You can’t stay back in this drafty old house all alone. This is your last year as my baby girl before you go off to college. I want you to come.”

  Gray tried to pretend that his sister didn’t stare at him sympathetically. Gray also tried to pretend he didn’t remember Christmases where his mother was off in Paris with some boyfriend of hers while he and the girls opened gifts with their staff. She hadn’t been so concerned with her children going off to college back then.

  Dinner wasn’t bad after that, if Gray avoided thinking about the fact that he was right and he wasn’t even part of his own damn family anymore, that somehow they’d re-formed without him. Or how he wasn’t part of him and Caroline the couple, or even him, Leo and Sawyer the three musketeers ever since Arlo came in and stole his friends out from under him along with his sisters. Yes, dinner was fine. Gray was fine. Everything was fine.

  Fine.

  By the time he left for home after dinner, without Sawyer’s potatoes, Gray felt a stinging pressure in the back of his eyes. He didn't go to the pub. He didn’t want to go anywhere but his bed. Not like they’d miss him anyway since pretty Arlo was around.

  Arlo had been feeling kind of down ever since his run-in with Gray a few days before. No matter how much Gray seemed to dislike him, he thought about Gray constantly. Arlo would wake up in the morning, only to shake dreams of Gray out of his head, go to sleep at night wondering if his skin tasted as good as he smelled, bake chewy cookies and flaky cream-filled pastries, fantasizing the whole time about how they’d look pillowed between Gray’s pale pink lips.

  It was starting to be a problem.

  So much that his fantasies were starting to seep into the pastries themselves.

  He’d gotten much better back in San Francisco, at controlling the accidental charming, the slip of his emotions into his food, but it still happened sometimes. More often than he liked lately, since he’d barely been able to keep himself together half the time.

  Frankie had told him not to worry all that much about it – back in San Francisco and over the phone a few times since he’d been in Baxter Hollow. Arlo checked it off as another way he could be a failure – couldn’t stay put in one place, never had any real powers to speak of, couldn’t even control the ones he did have. Fantastic. Add bonding to an antique whisk and driving across the country for a man who refused to look at him most days and he was an all-around mess.

  He needed to get a grip on the accidental food charming, though, even if Frankie assured him it was no big deal. Once, a few towns back, when his mother had called him to give him bad news about the family’s ancient cat who’d gotten too old to hang on any longer, his entire batch of double chocolate brownies had the customers of bakery he’d been working on getting teary with every bite. Yesterday, he’d caught Mrs. Simmonds staring lustfully out the window at Sawyer as he walked out of the cafe with his cake box and a pair of low-slung jeans. Arlo didn’t say anything, but he was a bit embarrassed. And it was only getting worse.

  If he didn’t get a grip, the entire town would be caught in an embarrassingly relentless vortex of lust and frustration right along with him every time they took a bite.

  That certainly wouldn’t do.

  Jake, the bookshop owner, had been in nearly every day that week. He’d ordered one of Arlo’s tart-sweet lemon lime bars and sat and stared out the window as well. Arlo hadn’t quite figured out who Jake was looking for, but the wistfulness was in there as well as the unrequited desire. Arlo’s unrequited desire. It had made its way into nearly everything he’d made at that point. The only thing he could do was try his best to cover it with intentional charms.

  “Jake, hello,” Arlo said quietly. He approached the corner table, right by the window. It had become Jake’s favorite perch in the past few days, whenever he came from the bookstore. Arlo and Jake had talked a bit, even shared a laugh once or twice. But he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, and Jake was the shy and quiet type. Arlo figured it would take him a while to get under his skin.

  “Hullo, Arlo.” The guy was beautiful, but he didn’t seem to know it. He looked bashfully at Arlo through his ridiculously long lashes and swept his warm, mahogany hair away from his face impatiently when it fell down. Arlo noticed an intricate tatto
o on his hand — mostly faint swirling lines with a few stars. It was beautiful like Jake, soft and delicate. Fascinating to look at but not easy to understand. “C-can I help you?” Jake asked.

  “I was just wondering if you’d like some tea with your lemon lime bar? I have one that goes perfectly with those.”

  Jake looked out the window one more moment, actually sighed, and then turned to Arlo. “I usually drink coffee, but I’ll try it. I think I’m in a bit of a funk today. Might do me good to try something new.”

  It was literally the most words Arlo had ever heard from Jake’s lips. His voice was as soft as his hair looked, as smooth as his high round cheekbones. He gave Arlo a rueful smile. Arlo didn’t want to admit it was probably his fault Jake was feeling so out of sorts. Him and his weird Gray feelings were doing things to the rest of the town.

  “Anything I can help with?”

  Jake shrugged. “I’m not very good at talking to people,” he said softly. “I’m sure you’ve noticed. I mostly stick to my Grams. And my books.”

  Arlo smiled and put a hand on Jake’s shoulder. He thought maybe Jake might need a friendly touch. He didn’t seem to get very many from what Arlo had seen. “I’m guessing there’s somebody you’d like to talk to?”

  “Leo,” Jake said. Then he looked shocked that he’d admitted it. “He’s t-the handyman.” Jake looked down at his hands. He blushed furiously and bit at his lip.

  “Yes. Sawyer’s friend – peppermint marshmallow brownie. Nice guy,” Arlo said.

  He tried to sound casual, like him and Jake had talked about crushes hundreds of times. At least he’d picked a decent guy. Arlo had liked Leo immediately. He didn’t draw him like Gray had, or even feel like an immediate friend like Sawyer, but he had a good vibe about him. Arlo always relied on his vibes. They’d never done him wrong yet.

  “That’s him.” Jake sighed again, soft and sad. “I’m just — “he broke off as if he didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know how to talk to him.”

  “Let me get you some tea,” Arlo said. He put his hand on Jake’s shoulder one more time. “Maybe it’ll help.”

  By the time Arlo came back with Jake’s tea, ready to talk, a woman was in the shop with her young, chatty, daughter and a baby in a stroller. Jake took his cardboard cup of tea with a small smile, left Arlo a tip in his jar and left the shop. Next time. He watched Jake walk next door, and turn the corner to the front door of his shop right on the town square. Yes. Next time.

  Arlo had a steady stream of customers after that, children and parents, people sneaking out of work for a snack — gaggles of girls, just out of school for the day. He tried to avoid the looks girls gave him as they downed foamy hot chocolates and sugar and cinnamon crusted shortbread while he made conversation with the moms and did his best to befriend everyone. The only one who didn’t come in, the one who never came in was Gray. Gray.

  Arlo tried not to think about him. Right.

  Sawyer barged in just as Arlo was about to close for the day. He’d saved Sawyer a few treats, just like he always did. He either brought them to the pub, or Sawyer would get them himself if he wasn’t behind the bar. Sawyer pulled up one of the plush counter-height chairs that Arlo had put in a few days before.

  “I like these, dude,” he said with a bounce on the new stool. Sawyer was always a good distraction when Arlo got too moony over a guy he barely knew.

  “I figured you would.” Arlo pulled out the box of treats labeled “Sawyer” and plopped them down on the counter.

  “I need to start taking money off your rent,” Sawyer said. Arlo still rarely charged him for the pastries, no matter what his mother had decreed. He was his only real friend in town, after all.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Arlo said with a smile. “I put a slice of my new apple-cinnamon upside down cake in there. Should be perfect for autumn. Let me know what you think.”

  Arlo had been in a particularly hot mood when he’d made it. It was the first cake he’d baked that morning, right off of another dream. In this one he’d had Gray pinned up against the wall of his bakery, sucking a love bite into Gray’s neck while he pulled him off with the scent of baking sugar cookies all around them. And fireflies. There had been fireflies in the dream.

  He wondered if he should call his sister Sofia and ask her about the fireflies. The rest was… pretty obvious. And even if he needed to ask his sister what it had meant, there was no way he was going to say it aloud to her. She’d never let him live it down. Especially the part where he’d woken hard and sweating, moments away from coming. He’d finished himself in seconds with Gray’s name on his tongue. Arlo blushed at the memory.

  “Jesus, man. This cake is fucking sexy.” Sawyer had a mouth full of soft glazed cinnamon baked apples and cake crumbs on his lips. “Just the smell of it,” he said as he took another bite. “And the apples and that sweet cinnamon and almond aftertaste. Makes me want to — damn. How does cake even do that?”

  That’s what Arlo was worried about. Even the perfume in the air that puffed out at every bite Sawyer took made him shiver. Arlo thought of how many moms he’d sold that cake to earlier and tried not to feel guilty as hell. Yikes. It was going to be an interesting evening in Baxter Hollow. That was for sure.

  Arlo shrugged at Sawyer. “Not sure. It’s just… something I can do. I’m good with desserts, I guess.” He figured it wasn’t exactly the time to get into the fact that he’d given the cake a deliberate autumnal charm of crisp days and crackling fires to cover up the fact that he’d been accidentally dreaming of sex when he baked it. Apparently the charm didn't cover up nearly enough. Maybe there was something to Gray’s claims of drugging after all.

  “No shit. I should have you make my birthday cake for me. I was going to invite this girl I’ve been talking to all morning, and after a few bites of this cake… even I might get lucky.” He turned a suspicious look on Arlo. “Unless she’d go for you instead.”

  Arlo laughed. “It’s not an aphrodisiac. It’s just cake.” Which was sort of a lie, but what was he supposed to say? “Besides, you won’t have much competition from me in the lady department,” Arlo assured him.

  “You’re on Leo’s team?” Sawyer asked. He popped the last bite of the apple cake in his mouth and moaned happily.

  “Very much on Leo’s team.” Leo who was just as obviously oblivious over Jake from the bookshop as Jake was over him.

  “Man, right now I’d be on whoever’s team would get me another slice of that cake.”

  “Sorry, man. I’m out,” Arlo said. Sawyer had gotten the last piece. “But I’ll definitely make you a birthday cake.”

  Sawyer pumped his fist in the air. “Party’s Saturday night. You can come, right? Even if you don’t make a cake. It’ll just be in the pub.”

  “I’ll be there, and I already said I would.” He punched Sawyer lightly across the counter. “What kind of cake do you want?”

  Sawyer thought for a moment. “Up to you. You’ll do something way better than I could think of, anyway. Oh, and I’ve seen Jake in here a few times this week. Bring him.”

  “Deal.”

  It was windy the night of Sawyer’s twenty-sixth birthday party, a fitful bluster that wound its way through crooked cobbled streets and trees just about ready to burst into flaming autumn color. Gray should’ve known that wind was prophetic somehow. There was something enticing about it. Made him want to shake his hair out and run through the streets with it.

  Gray should’ve also known better than to go to Sawyer’s party. Really, he should have. But Sawyer was one of Gray’s oldest and closest friends, and he’d be damned if he’d let some newbie who smelled like an angel and tied Gray’s insides in knots steal all of his friends away from him just because he was nervous. Absolutely not.

  “You made it!” Sawyer crowed when Gray walked into the pub.

  The Tilted Shamrock was all done out in Sawyer’s favorite color — green. There was a glittering birthday banner and a table piled with pla
tes of food. Carrie had made a huge spread, and judging by the hot pink of Sawyer’s cheeks, everyone in the pub had already brought him a celebratory round.

  “Of course I did. Happy birthday, man.” Gray gave his friend a kiss on the cheek and a long hug. He decided to put Sawyer’s gift behind the bar instead of handing it to him. He’d find it in the morning. Or eventually.

  “Have a drink. Mom’s mixing tonight.” Sawyer gave Gray one more heavy-armed hug, another wet kiss on the cheek, and then wandered off to where a dark-haired girl was sitting in the corner with pink cheeks and a big grin.

  “Look at you, birthday boy,” Gray said softly.

  “Hello, sweetie. What’ll you be having?” Carrie said. She reached across the bar and cupped Gray’s jaw maternally. He knew if he told Sawyer and Carrie he was going to be home alone for Christmas they’d insist he have it with them. He’d feel like he was intruding. Gray pushed the thought away.

  “It’s been a long week. Make me something strong,” he said with a grin. Maybe it was the wind that got into him. Maybe it was something else. Whatever it was… Gray felt off. Different. Even more than he had lately.

  Two of Carrie’s strong drinks later and he felt a hell of a lot more than different. He was bopping around the pub chatting with Leo, Sawyer, and Amy, a girl staying in the bed and breakfast down the street who seemed to have caught Sawyer’s eye. Everyone in the pub was his new best friend and Gray, for once, didn’t even feel like himself. He was loving it.

  He stole Leo’s pint and downed it, had a little bit of bread from the buffet so he didn’t get sick, and bopped his head to the music that was turned up quite a bit louder than usual. A few people had already started to dance in the space that they’d cleared out by pushing tables to the walls. Gray had to admit he was tempted.

  “You having fun?” Leo asked. He was pink-cheeked and tipsy as well, holding a new beer that he must’ve gotten from somewhere.