Tickle My Candy Cane

by Linda Mooney

  “Do I need to stay out of the kitchen, too?” His question, given with his usual dry wit, made her laugh out loud. Bending over, she gave her father a quick peck on the forehead.

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “Good thing we had a decent harvest this year. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to afford another wedding,” he continued to grouse good-naturedly.

  Tamberly started to reply when his expression froze and he turned his head toward the door. “He’s on the drive.”

  She glanced at the eight day clock on the fireplace mantel, noting the time as she rushed to the front door. Less than three hours ago she and Jonathan had met. Only three hours? It felt a hell of a lot longer than that.

  The porch light came on when she stepped outside. The night was quiet. The snow was on hold, and the wind was no more than a faint breath. Waving her hand from left to right, the strings of multi-colored lights blazed their colors across the top of the fence surrounding the house. Presently, she spotted a pair of headlights coming up the gravel drive. Hugging herself against the cold, she waited on the steps and watched the slow approach of the truck until it stopped directly behind the mini-bus. The engine shut off, and she saw the tall figure emerge from behind the wheel. He carried a plastic container in his hand.

  Her heart did cartwheels as he drew nearer. That wide, warm smile she remembered was on his face, and the lights on the fence gave him an unusual glow. The closer he got, the more she shivered. Soon she would find out if he was indeed meant to be her only love. Her lasting love. She could sense her body beginning to respond at the thought. Already the crotch of her jeans was wet with anticipation.

  “Hi.” She smiled shyly when he stepped onto the porch and paused in front of her. It was an awkward moment. Should she shake hands? Or give him a hug? How did one greet one’s possible intended without being too obvious about it? To her relief, he held out the container to her.

  “Here you go. Debt’s paid.”

  “Only if it tastes decent,” she immediately shot back in jest, adding a lopsided grin to show she was teasing him. Crooking her finger at him, she invited, “Let’s go in where it’s warm.”

  She noticed how he opened and held the door for her. Once they were inside, Tamberly pointed to the hat tree in the corner where he could hang up his coat. Before they could retreat into the kitchen, Manderly Blakeney emerged from the den to meet her young man. To her delight, Jonathan took the initiative.

  “Mr. Blakeney? I’m Jonathan Mauk. Thank you for letting me come over so late in the evening.” He held out a hand, and Manderly shook it, but Tamberly noticed how closely her father was scrutinizing Jonathan with narrowed eyes. His expression reminded her of how he would peer closely at something he was studying before reaching a decision. She frowned. Her father hadn’t acted that way when Rick courted Kimmy. Why would Jonathan be different?

  “Mauk. From New York, right?”

  “Actually, I’m from Massachusetts. Specifically Concord. My whole family’s from there. Several generations’ worth, in fact.”

  Manderly slowly nodded his head. “I hear you can cook. Where are you employed?”

  Jonathan gave him a rueful grin. “At the moment I’m not. I just finished apprenticing at a four star restaurant out on Long Island, and I was hoping to start my own business back home.”

  “You mean, open your own restaurant?” Manderly clarified.

  Jonathan nodded slightly. “Yes, sir.”

  “What kind?”

  “Well, I was sort of hoping to do something a little creative with traditional comfort food. Something along the lines of what Wolfgang Puck did with pizzas. Pizzaz up the commonplace. Give it a bit of a twist, but still retain that down home quality.”

  Tamberly felt the knot inside her slowly unravel as her father’s body language also loosened up. Apparently whatever had set him on edge was gone, thank goodness.

  “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

  “When Uncle Morris got sick, Aunt Sofie called my mother. They’re sisters. Mom had told her I was out of school and looking for work to help tide me over until I could get myself established. I said I would help out with the tree business over the holidays.”

  “And you’re heading back home after Christmas?” Manderly continued to question him. Fortunately, Jonathan seemed to take it all in stride.

  “I’m going back to Vermont with Lyle to return the travel trailer. Originally, I had planned on leaving for home after spending a couple of days at my uncle’s place.”

  “Originally?”

  “Well...” This time Jonathan couldn’t hide his nervousness. “Well, my plans could change.”

  “Daddy?” Tamberly gave her father a warning look and held up the container. “You’re keeping me from my pie.”

  “That’s right. I’m sorry.” Manderly’s chuckle rumbled in his chest as a shadow of a smile crossed his lips. “I’m missing my show, too. It was nice to meet you, Jonathan...Mauk, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “If I don’t see you again, happy holidays.”

  “You, too, sir.”

  They shook hands again, and Manderly left for the den and his television program. Tamberly gave Jonathan’s arm a little tug.

  “The kitchen’s this way,” she told him.

  Chapter Six

  “I didn’t know if you liked your pie plain, or with cheese on top, or ice cream, so I left it plain.”

  He was babbling, damn him. If seeing her again wasn’t enough to get his libido boiling, being accosted by her father had quickly doused it. Fortunately, the initial meeting seemed to have gone well. Although a little voice in the back of his mind kept telling him the guy was a warlock, Jonathan couldn’t help but look at the man in his stained overalls and white t-shirt, and wonder why the townsfolk would make up such stories. Yeah, the man was big and imposing, and seemingly ageless with his jet black hair and black eyes. But a warlock?

  Tamberly passed by him to retrieve a plate from an upper cabinet. When she reached into the drawer for a fork, she paused.

  “That’s odd.”

  “What is?”

  In answer, she held up the utensil for him to see. The fork had a red and white striped porcelain handle. Jonathan was about to ask again what was odd about it when the stripes moved.

  No, not moved. Swirled. Curling around and around like a filigree pattern. He stared at the sight in disbelief.

  “How…”

  Tamberly giggled. “Our forks have white handles. I have no idea why this one is different.”

  Before he could question her further, she passed by him again, and the whiff of her perfume doomed him to another instant hard-on. So when she sat down at a large oval table and patted the high-backed chair next to her, he hurried to take the seat before she could notice. As luck would have it, he was wearing his loose-fitting jeans, which allowed him more room for expansion. But at this point he wished he’d chosen a tighter fitting pair that would help conceal his rising interest. The last thing he needed was for her old man to see the bulge.

  What if I un-tuck my shirt and let it hang on the outside? Since it was a dress shirt, the tail should be long enough to provide some coverage.

  “I like it plain,” Tamberly commented, taking the lid off of the container. She paused as she stared down in surprise. “How cute! And how unusual!”

  Before he could ask what she meant, Tamberly lifted out the slice with her fork and thumb, and laid it on the plate. Jonathan was about to ask her what she meant by her remark when he noticed it for himself.

  One of those filigree candy canes lay on top of the crust.

  She picked it up, smiling. “Talk about serendipity! First my fork, and now this. I’ve never seen a candy cane decorated like this. Where did you get it?”

  Jonathan shook his head. “To be honest, I think I got it at the market. It must have fallen out of my pocket. I didn’t intend to put it there.”

  The truth was that he distinctly
remembered putting the candy cane on the counter behind the sink. There was no way it could have gotten into the container by itself. Not unless...

  Shit, Jon. Quit it. There’s no way the damn thing could be magical.

  He was about to tell her the confection wasn’t intended to be part of the pie when Tamberly cut off the tip end of the slice and forked it into her mouth. Her eyes closed, and a look of absolute bliss crossed her face.

  “Mmm. This is the most delicious apple pie I’ve ever tasted. Do you have a secret ingredient or something that you put in it to make it taste so good?”

  “Not really. I just make sure I use apples at their peak for that extra crispiness.” He folded his arms and leaned onto the table. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Like it! My gosh, Jon. If you ever get to open your own restaurant, you’d make a killing alone on dessert!” She forked another piece into her mouth, chewing slowly to savor the taste. The image of that same expression coming over her face as she bobbed up and down with his cock between her lips flashed into his mind’s eye. Instantly his hard-on went into concrete status until it was nearly painful. He shifted slightly in his seat, trying to alleviate some of the pressure between his legs, without luck.

  He continued to watch her eat in silence, and at the way she licked her fork when she was done. Oddly, he felt no need to keep up a stream of chatter. They were comfortable enough to be in each other’s company, enjoying the simple pleasure of just being together. The realization surprised him. The only other time he had been around another woman and not felt the need to keep her entertained, so to speak, was when he was with his own family.

  “So, you’re going back to Vermont the day after Christmas?” Tamberly asked. She had poured herself a glass of milk and brought it back to the table.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why can’t... Why can’t Lyle go back on his own?” she ventured hesitantly.

  Jonathan stared as she nervously took another sip of milk, leaving a small moustache above her lip. She unconsciously licked it off, followed with a swipe of her paper napkin, and at the sight of her pink tongue, that painful feeling in his pants became downright insistent. There was no doubt about what he would be doing once he left this place and was heading back to the trailer.

  “I guess I could stay a bit longer,” he admitted.

  Her eyes widened. “You don’t have any immediate plans, do you? I mean, back where you’re from? What I mean is, instead of going back to Vermont, couldn’t you stay in town until you need to return to Concord?”

  “Stay in town where?” In the short time he’d been in Toppers Cove, Jonathan couldn’t remember seeing any sort of motel. The little seaside community was far off the beaten track, and didn’t see much in the way of tourists. But fortunately its farmers market was renowned throughout the eastern seaboard. It had even been featured in a couple of well-established east coast magazines, which was why Jonathan had jumped at the chance to check it out when his aunt had asked for his help.

  “There’s a little inn a block from the water. Crows Nest Inn. Rick said it has reasonable rates.”

  “Rick?”

  “My brother-in-law.” She smiled, and Jonathan noticed how pure her complexion was. Unblemished and smooth like milk. He bet it was as soft as whipped cream. This close, there could be no doubt that the woman was a true redhead. “He was at the market with me today. Normally my sister Kimberly works with him, but she’s expecting, and she’s been having morning sickness these past few days, so I offered to step in and help.” Her smile widened. “I’m glad I did.”

  “So am I,” he admitted softly. Her scent had become darker, richer, the way a good perfume adapts to a woman’s body heat. Its aroma filled his head. Before he knew it, their faces were drawing closer. He was going to kiss her, and he would happily drown in her soft, sweet minty-ness.

  Someone loudly cleared her throat. Jonathan jumped and pulled back to see a strikingly beautiful young woman with chestnut hair saunter into the kitchen from another doorway. She gave Jonathan a good once-over as she opened the refrigerator to pull out a soda.

  Tamberly tried to gloss over the interruption. “That’s my sister, Amy. Jonathan might be staying over after Christmas,” she directed toward her sibling.

  Amy nodded. “Oh, goody. Then he can celebrate your birthday with us,” she commented dryly, but added a wink. Turning her back on the couple, she exited through the door leading into the front room.

  Jonathan turned to look at Tamberly. “Your birthday is tomorrow?”

  “Actually, it’s Christmas day,” she told him with an infusion of pink tinting her cheeks.

  “Wow. A real Christmas baby,” he grinned. His mind was running at a hundred miles per hour. He had to get her a present. No, he had to get her two presents. “I’ve never met someone born on a holiday.”

  The remark made her laugh, and he was amazed at how the room lit up with her smile. “Then you’re in luck. Everyone in our family was born on a holiday.”

  “Are you shi- Excuse me. Honestly? All of you?”

  “Yep.” She nodded enthusiastically. “All of us. Even Momma, and she...” Her face suddenly fell and her voice trailed off. Without thinking, Jonathan reached over and took her hand to give it a sympathetic squeeze.

  Tamberly gave him a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Sometimes it still hurts.”

  “You have no reason to apologize. How long as she been gone?”

  “Eight years, but it feels a lot less than that.”

  Rubbing his chin with his free hand, Jonathan asked, “I wonder what the chances are that all of you would be born on a holiday? Those would be astronomical odds.” He saw Tamberly give him a funny look. She appeared to be debating with herself about something, or deciding on something.

  “Jon?”

  “What?”

  Jon and Tam. Jonathan and Tamberly. The two names sounded perfectly suited together, like macaroni and cheese. Strawberries and cream. Bacon and eggs.

  “Jon, I have something to confess.”

  She looked worried. No, she looked worried sick, as his mother sometimes would explain that same expression he’d often seen on his father’s face. Giving her hand another gentle squeeze, he urged her to continue. “What’s up, Tam?”

  “I’m...” She stopped, gathered her courage, and tried again. “The reason all of us were born on a holiday is because we’re witches. Specifically, tempus witches, although technically you would call Daddy a warlock.”

  Chapter Seven

  I said she was a witch. A real witch. You know, one of those broom-riding kind? And her father’s a warlock.

  The sound of Lyle’s warning echoed in his head. Jonathan continued to stare at her as they held hands. The truth was plain on her face. It reflected in her pleading eyes.

  “You’re a witch?”

  She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “You cast spells,” he stated.

  “Actually, Daddy does. He’s the only one who’s powerful enough, but my sisters and I dabble.”

  “Dabble?”

  “Little things.”

  “Like…”

  She held up her free hand and snapped her fingers. The kitchen lights went out. Another snap, and they came back on. Jonathan grinned.

  “Not very convincing, Tam, when I can clap my hands and do the same thing at my uncle’s place.”

  “Okay. Then how about this?” She pulled her hand away from his and held both of them out in front of her, palms up. The plate and fork lifted from the table. With a nod of her head, the dirty dish floated over to settle in the sink.

  Jonathan stared at the kitchen counter for another second before looking back at her. Common sense told him he needed to get out of there, and to do it without any further delay. But something else was keeping him glued to the chair, and he was damned if he could figure out what it was.

  “Jonathan?”

  “I know I should be frightened out of my ever-lovin’ mind, but I’m
not. In fact…” He grinned. “I’m intrigued.”

  Her eyes widened. “Intrigued? In what way?”

  “How does one court a witch, err, a tempus witch? Which, by the way is…” He was as stunned to hear the word come out of his mouth as she was. Court? As in prepared to propose?

  At that same instant, his heart and mind gave him his answer. Yes. Propose, as in marriage. He and Tamberly, husband and wife.

  Everything inside him had told him this woman was different. Her revelation did nothing to stifle his interest. In fact, it increased it tenfold—a hundredfold!

  Tamberly’s answering smile was brighter than sunshine. “We’re actually half witch, since Momma was mortal. My sisters and I refer to ourselves as witchlets. But, really, we’re no different than ordinary people. We just can do things…differently.”

  “No spells? No potions? No turning me into a frog if we have a fight?” he teased, or rather, half-teased.

  When the woman shook her head, red highlights flashed underneath the overhead light like streaks of fire. “No. No spells or turning you into a frog. I’m not that strong. But I can concoct a mean brew for certain occasions.”

  Jonathan laughed at the vision in his mind of her bending over a pot of soup and sprinkling some God-awful additive to it like eye of newt or tongue of frog. Tamberly shushed him, her eyes watching the door leading to the living room.

  “Just to let you know, I have three other sisters on the other side of the house, besides Daddy, and they’re all dying to know more about you.”

  “You’ll probably be grilled once I leave,” he remarked.

  “Basted and broiled, too,” she quipped, which lead to them both softly laughing again at the bad joke.