by Heather Long
Not complicated at all.
“What if you have nothing in common?” It seemed to be Gigi’s turn to study him.
“Then she can teach me about her world and I’ll teach her about mine. If she’s devoted to me, and I to her—we’d have a lot of fun, don’t you think?” Finally giving into the urge, he scratched at his shoulder. The scrape of his nails against his shirt covered skin both heaven and hell.
“You’re a strange man, Kirk.” Though Gigi made it sound like a compliment. Reaching across the table, she put a hand on his arm, and he ceased scratching. The whisper of power was ephemeral at first but gained force as a rush of coolness washed over his skin. He damn near wept in relief.
“But I think I like you,” she finished shyly. When she would have drawn her hand away, Kirk captured it and rose to bend over and press his lips to her knuckles.
“Thank you, pretty lady.” Then, even when he had every reason in the world to usher back to the backwater of Shifterville, he said, “Want to go do something fun?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Gigi
WHEN KIRK INVITED her to go do something fun, she hadn’t really known what she expected for his idea of fun, and why would she? She barely knew the guy except that he was good looking, had a sweet smile, patient with her shopping, and chatter and a terrible case of poison sumac—now cured because her mother had an affinity for all plants and Gigi picked up a lot of the minor healing magicks thanks to herbology lessons as a kid.
Maybe he liked golf? Though he wasn’t very outdoorsy, so maybe a club? He’d definitely seemed to enjoy her dancing. Instead of either, she found herself standing in a bowling alley which smelled of foot sweat, chalk, and beer while wearing a pair of the world’s ugliest and least sexy shoes and playing with balls.
“You want the one that’s not too heavy, but still has some pull on your arm.” Kirk, it seemed, was also a patient teacher. He liked the game it seemed and had a skill at it.
It was sexy as hell when he lined the ball up and let it go. It curved whichever way he wanted it, it seemed, then struck the pins. He had far more strikes than misses. And he didn’t use magic at all.
For her part, Gigi became the master of the gutter ball, and she only broke two nails. Kirk caught her hands in his when she grimaced at the sight of additional ruin to her already scorched fingertips and he murmured three words then kissed them.
Not only were the scorch marks gone, but the nails were perfectly oval-shaped and even.
“Dude, you cannot just go around giving a girl a perfect manicure.” The chide worked, because he laughed. “You will have to beat the women off with sticks.”
“I think I can handle it.”
They played another two games before he took pity on her. Then, dress still in hand, they turned in their shoes and headed over to the arcade. Pinball proved to be more her forte—and she won three games in a row. They left the bowling alley and jaunted over to a carnival on a pier somewhere in New Jersey.
They rode the merry-go-round, which she loved, and the ferris wheel, which it turned out he enjoyed. Then they got some cotton candy, and Kirk showed off his prowess winning her a couple of stuffed animals.
It was ridiculously sweet, and kind of an aww moment. It was then she glanced around at the people passing them on the boardwalk. Couples walking hand-in-hand. Kirk wasn’t holding her hand, but he had taken charge of her dress and nothing had been allowed to crumple or hurt the bag.
Rising on her tiptoes, she pressed a hand to his shoulder then brushed her lips against his. “Thank you,” she whispered when he gave her a startled look. Before she could pull away, Kirk slid an arm around her waist and tugged her close.
When his lips touched hers, he took her breath away. He tasted of cotton candy, laughter, and a montage of dance music. The massage of his mouth against hers lasted an eternity, or maybe only a few seconds. They flowed apart as easily as they’d come together. It was a rare, and truly beautiful moment. His grin matched hers, and they both laughed. It was so freeing and for the first time in ever, she felt like one of those other couples.
Other couples.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she glanced upward as the light above turned on.
The sun had set.
It had set.
Smile fading, she looked at Kirk. She didn’t deserve to be enjoying a carefree evening on a boardwalk after a great afternoon of unique adventure. “I need to get back.” She had brides to free. What had she been thinking, whisking them away to hold off their nuptials in favor of her imaginary ones?
The ease in his expression erased, and he nodded slowly. “Of course, you’re right. I have a job to do.”
“As do I.” She extended her hand to him, and he interlaced his fingers with hers. “Thank you for today…I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”
Not daring to wait for his answer, she whooshed them back to Assjacket, to Bridget and Martin.
It was time the brides go marching in…
Kirk
RETURNING to Assjacket socked him in the solar plexus. Not just because it was the wart on nature’s hairy little backside, but because he’d been having a tremendously good time with Gigi. When was the last time he’d had so much fun without high stakes? In truth, he couldn’t remember.
They arrived at the edge of the witch singer’s porch. His earlier hosts sat on the porch swing together, looking enormously content. The trash panda—Firefox—snuggled around Bridget’s shoulders as though he’d belonged there forever.
Before Kirk could open his mouth, Gigi burst into tears and rushed toward Bridget. The singer gave a little sigh and rose. When she caught Gigi and hugged her, Kirk fought not to hurry to the curvy little witch he’d spent the day with.
Martin didn’t seem at all bothered by the hysterics. Zinging magical bolts exploded from around the two women, racing passed Martin then Kirk before vanishing in the direction of town.
“Is she all right?” Kirk asked when he couldn’t take her tears any longer.
“She’ll be fine,” Bridget assured him. The witch singer’s beatific smile didn’t unsettle him as it had earlier. Nor did her charming and attractive appearance earn more than a passing appreciative thought. No, all of Kirk focused on the curvy, green haired witch whose shoulders shook.
Worried still, Kirk slid his hands in his pockets. The much-vaunted wedding dress hung in the air next to them. The spell to maintain it in perfect condition cost him nothing. She’d been so happy to find the right dress, he wouldn’t let anything happen to it now.
As much as he wanted to stay with Gigi, Kirk had a task to complete. Maybe afterward, he could take her out and…
“We promised you an answer when you returned,” Martin said as he descended the steps with the women. “Do you still require it?”
Unfortunately, he did. The brides were being reunited with their grooms—a roar, as though some huge beast had been triumphant, split the night air. The sound startled him, but not nearly as much as the way Gigi’s eyes glittered with tears. No, the perfect gems held him rooted to the spot. Clearing his throat, he stopped trying to pull away, and spoke to her rather than Martin. “I do need those answers,” he assured her. “Maybe needing them was what sent me with you today, but I’m really glad I went.”
“I had fun,” she confessed in a husky voice.
“Me too.”
“Aww,” Martin drew out the syllable until it verged just on the edge of mocking. “You two are adorable. Gigi, did you finish doing what you needed to do?”
Fireworks exploded over the eastern woods, and a song like that of the fae rode the breeze.
“I did,” she promised with a sniffle.
“Good job. What did we learn from this experience?” The man had the manner of a teacher, but Kirk decided it was time Martin received the same lesson he’d delivered earlier. A flick of Kirk’s fingers sent a simple bolt of electricity to burn against the other man’s hand.
The action drew Marti
n’s attention away from Gigi. Kirk couldn’t stamp her with the same mine claim the witch singer’s mate had vibed to him earlier, but he could make it clear that she was off limits.
A kind of slippery slope that was.
Instead of annoyance, Martin exuded satisfaction
Gigi swiped away her tears. “That I need to work for what I want, and I need to be patient. I’m going to need some time for the latter.”
A laugh escaped Kirk before he could reconsider it. The words had been a terrible pun, but one he appreciated. Gigi beamed at him once more.
“I’m sorry Bridget, I didn’t think about what you needed to do, or about Rika or anyone else for that matter.” Her apology to the witch singer was swiftly accepted. The two women hugged again.
Martin extended a hand to Kirk. Before he could grasp the offer, Kirk found himself shackled to Gigi. Surprised, he glanced at the curvy little witch then at Martin and Bridget. “What is the meaning of this?”
“You needed a witchnapper, and now you have her. She understands what she did was wrong, and you have the answer you need for the Baba Yaga. Bright blessings to you both.” The witch singer leaned forward and gave Gigi an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “Be safe.”
He barely had time to process the turn of events when they whisked sideways and found themselves on the set of the comedy Cheers or maybe it really was just a little downstairs pub in Boston. Still a little dazed, Kirk adjusted his grip so he could clasp Gigi’s hand despite the shackles linking their wrists.
His next thought was interrupted when the whole room chorused “Baba Yaga!” at the grand witch’s interest.
“Kirk! You’re here!” She danced over in her neon spandex, and acid green jellied shoes to stand in front of them. “Excellent. Have you found the bride stealer?”
The air went utterly still, pregnant with a thousand possibilities. Not once did Baba Yaga’s gaze go to where he and Gigi were shackled together. Yes, he had found the witchnapper, but he was pretty sure all the missing brides had been returned, based on the electric bolts Gigi released earlier.
“The problem has been resolved,” he hedged. “The weddings are all back on, and the grooms aren’t pining anymore.”
Baba Yaga gave him a curious look. “So you didn’t find the witchnapper?”
If he said no, then he failed in his task. If he said yes, he might have to confess it was Gigi. Better to say no…because technically he hadn’t found her. Martin introduced her to him, and truthfully, he could take his punishment. It was better if Gigi were safe.
“That would be accurate,” he told Baba Yaga, splitting hairs maybe, but he decided to stand on the principals he’d rediscovered over the last several hours.
“Uh huh.” Baba Yaga tapped a manicured and bedazzled finger with its three rings against her lower lip. Her gaze went to Gigi. “So you didn’t find the witchnapper. Pity, we could have taken care of all those debts, but now I’m going to have to lose a wager of mine and turn you over to Running Bull.”
So be it. Kirk wouldn’t waver. Gigi had been dreaming out loud about what she wanted in her life.. Maybe, she’d been a little over the top, but she’d put everyone back as soon as she realized the insanity of her plan.
Not a lot of people could own their actions and learn from them. Maybe he should take a leaf from her tree and stop detonating dynamite in the middle of his own life.
“Baba Yaga, ma’am?” Gigi said, and Kirk froze. Not on purpose, but literally. He couldn’t move his jaw. He couldn’t protest or tell her to hush. “I’m the witchnapper, but I promise, I put them all back and Kirk did find me. He’s just being a consummate gentleman and trying to protect me. Please don’t give him to Running Bull.”
Dammit, Gigi. Kirk fought through the layers of molasses trapping him.
“I know what I did was wrong and selfish, and I’m so very sorry. All the brides are back where they belong, and I won’t interfere in the happily ever after of another again…ever.” The last words had the finality of an oath, and there was power in an oath.
“So Kirk did his job, but didn’t want to cash in on it and you swallowed your pride, and didn’t try to take credit for something you don’t deserve.” Baba Yaga seemed to mull it over. “I think you two are enormously good for each other. Very well…” Power flooded the room, and Baba Yaga rose, cocooned by smoke, lightning and a booming voice. “I hereby decree that the Warlock Kirk is freed of all gambling debts, which we will cover, but henceforth he shall gamble willy nilly no longer. To you, Gigi, I also decree that you will help any bride who ever needs it to find the perfect wedding dress—even if you have to host a television show with a witchzilla to do it.”
So far so good…
“But I like the two of you together, so I do bless you with a pairing which lets the two of you be daring. In light of your day’s tone, so shall you both be in the friend zone for the time of a year and one day—and then you may have your say.”
The finish sent a dazzle of disco energy frenetically through the room, flashing lights and sparkles. Gigi leaned into him and Kirk tightened his hand. With a flourish, Baba Yaga stood before them once more.
“Well?” She looked at them expectantly.
Gigi glanced at him, and Kirk lifted his shoulders. “Forgive us,” he said, speaking to Baba Yaga once more. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, for the love of…” She scowled and ripped off her hat then glared at them both. “You are bound together for the time of a year and a day. No nookie, no sex, and no heavy petting. You can kiss. You can talk. You can dance in the rain—as long as you are together. At the end of the year and a day, you can pretty much do whatever you want.”
That didn’t sound too bad. Gigi was fun.
“What happens if we have sex before then?” Gigi asked, and Kirk tried not to grin. It was a good question.
“You won’t,” Baba Yaga assured her. “There are not takebacks, and no second chances. You blow it and he loses the biggest gamble of his life to the house, and trust me, I always win those. You would never see each other again, even if you stood in the same room.”
With that Baba Yaga vanished and Kirk found himself and Gigi back in that damn clearing in Assjacket. At least this time he wasn’t in the brambly bush.
“A year and a day,” he said slowly, turning to face her.
“That’s what she said.” Gigi’s eyes rounded as she gazed up at him. “You were really going to let her give you to someone called Running Bull and not tell her that I was the person you had to catch?”
“Friendship means more than french fries and dance montages, it means keeping what you value safe.”
Gigi swooned, then she rose and gave him a quick peck on the lips. They both went still and looked around. So, the kissing allowance was not a tease. They could do that. Both released a relieved whoosh of air.
“Thank you,” she told him earnestly. “I had a lot of fun today, so tomorrow it’s my turn to pick what we do, right?”
“No,” he said, reasonable to a point. “You also picked out a dress today, so we went halfsies today and we’ll go halfsies tomorrow. Deal?”
Gigi’s smile lit him up. “Deal.”
It wasn’t exactly a happily ever after, but a to be continued—forever and a day. Those were better stories, Kirk decided. A story that didn’t end, but promised tomorrow.
EPILOGUE
Bridget
MORE THAN A YEAR and a day ago, I came to Assjacket desperate to solve the problem for the Dallas vamps. Yet, here I remained and I’d not delivered the promised answer. It wasn’t that I hadn’t sung at dozens of weddings—I was the most in demand wedding singer in Assjacket and four other counties, but still, no answer.
Why? Because not all the happily ever afters had been just right or at least, my singing hadn’t sealed them. If the couple were firmly entrenched before their weddings, then zip, zilch, nada.
I’d be frustrated except…I had Martin. Rika and Angus were off touring the high
lands together, and I’d sung at their wedding a month before. Martin and I were deeply ensconced in our little cottage and Firefox made life complete. Still…sooner or later the vamps were going to come for me, because I’d reneged on a deal.
That didn’t sit easily.
Putting aside that concern for today, I stood at the end of the aisle. Gigi appeared in her drop-dead gorgeous filmy wedding dress, feet bare and wearing a single ruby on a gold chain as a kind of pseudo crown. At the end of the aisle, Kirk looked dashing in his white tux and tails. No wear near as fine as my Martin—his tux fitting him even better than Kirk’s fit him, and Martin’s dashing with a Hawaiian shirt rather than a crisp white one.
Half of Assjacket turned out for the nuptials of the best friends turned must-see romance. Energy zinged back and forth between witch and warlock. I wasn’t singing today for anything other than a sigh of real happiness. Gigi had been an unmitigated pain in the ass, but like Rika before her, she had also become a good friend.
I wished her and Kirk nothing but happiness—and a long night to get laid, because those two were so into each other, I thought they were going to do it right there on the lawn since today marked the last day of Baba Yaga’s friendly little curse.
When I sang this time, it came all the way from my soul. It was a series of eighties love ballads, a montage effect, and I pulled out all the stops. Images danced in the air around Gigi as she walked—images of her wedding dress dancing, Kirk and her bowling, rides at carnivals, visits to zoos, and other exotic locations around the world.
Gigi and Kirk had fallen in love in every time zone and every country. They’d had an amazing year. They’d also decided to launch their own Witch Web Say Yes to Love show together…it was a game slash reality show that was already getting the best witched ratings of the year.
I sang for the friends I’d made here and for all the journeys I’d been witness to. I sang for love and for family. Most of all, I sang for Martin.
When our gazes locked and held, the music surged out of me, rising on a crescendo.
