Spells Trouble

by Kristin Cast

  Again, she stopped him, only this time she said, “Don’t put that on. I want to be close to you and your skin feels so good.”

  Kirk dropped the tee and then plucked at the ruffled hem of her dress. He gave her a cute, cocky smile. “It would feel even better against your skin.”

  And that did it. Mercy wanted to feel something besides sadness and worry and fear. She wanted to feel warmth and happiness—she wanted to feel safe again. Kirk made her feel safe, and he loved her. Mercy reached down and peeled her dress over her head so that all she wore were her panties and a tentative smile.

  Kirk sucked in a sharp breath as he stared at her. Slowly, he reached out and lifted one of her breasts. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

  “No,” she whispered. “Tell me.”

  Tenderly, his thumb caressed her nipple, causing it to harden as Mercy’s back arched and a jolt of pleasure sizzled through her body. “You’re not a witch. You’re a goddess.” His breath was ragged as his lips replaced his thumb.

  Mercy wrapped her arms around his bare shoulders as she straddled him. He was right. The sensation of his hot, sweat-slick flesh against her naked skin felt so incredibly good that her world narrowed and she could think of nothing except the pleasure that pulsed through her body. She moved her hips so that the warm wetness between her legs found the hardness that pressed against his jeans, and he moaned again.

  “You’re so sexy. You feel amazing.”

  Mercy’s hands found his nipples—smaller and tighter than hers—but his sharp intake of breath as she gently teased them made her believe that they were as sensitive. Emboldened, her hands explored downward. Her fingers traveled to the six-pack that all the girls drooled over whenever he took off his shirt after football practice.

  His moan was deeper. “Ah, god! You’re killing me,” he said as her searching fingers found his belt buckle.

  “Do you want me to stop?” she whispered.

  “Hell no!”

  She smiled and felt unbelievably powerful as she pushed him back on the bed. Mercy moved off his lap as she unbuckled his belt and then slowly opened his jeans. As she reached inside them to touch him Kirk shifted so that his hand could explore her bare thighs.

  “Do whatever you want.” He sounded breathless.

  Mercy did whatever she wanted. She’d seen penises before. The internet was full of them. But she’d never touched one, and the hardness of it surprised her. She ran her hand up and down the thick length of him as his hips lifted and jerked in response. Mercy was surprised by how much she liked touching him, stroking him. It was incredible and powerful and sexy how just a small touch, a soft stroke, had him moaning and sounding like he’d just run several lengths of the football field.

  She was intrigued by the drops of clear liquid that dewed the head of his penis. Mercy rubbed them gently around as Kirk gasped and whispered how good it felt and how much he loved her. And when her head dipped and her tongue replaced her fingers he groaned like she really was killing him.

  “Don’t stop! Oh, you fucking gorgeous goddess, do not stop!”

  So, Mercy didn’t. As her mouth covered him and she experimented by sucking and licking the thick, hard length of him, Kirk’s hand slipped inside her panties. She knew how to touch herself—she knew what made her orgasm—and she rocked against his searching fingers until he found the right spot and then she moved her hips in time with her mouth.

  Kirk came first, surprising Mercy with the heat and force of it, but then she sank into the waves of pleasure that cascaded through her body, making her hips buck against his hand as her orgasm engulfed her. She kept sucking and licking as another orgasm and then another rippled through her until finally she was breathing so hard she had to fall limply back on the bed. She crawled up so that she lay in the crook of his sweaty arm while their breathing slowed together.

  “You are a goddess. My goddess,” he said.

  Mercy’s head found his shoulder. He pulled her closer to him while she stared up at the ceiling and tried to slow her breathing and sift through her tumultuous thoughts.

  Kirk kissed her damp forehead. “You were amazing.”

  “Um, thanks.” Mercy spoke softly. Her body was still humming with the aftermath of pleasure, but as passion faded the real world rushed in to take its place. Freya, what did I just do?

  “Seriously. A-maz-ing.” Kirk laughed joyously. “Like, you blew my mind!” His fingers traced up and down the side of her neck.

  Mercy had no idea why, but she had a sudden urge to pull away from him. Instead, she forced herself to be calm and turned her head to stare at Kirk’s handsome profile. His face was still flushed. His full lips were lifted at the corners in a satisfied smile. He obviously didn’t have a worry in the world. But Mercy’s world, full of sadness and worry and loss, had come flooding back. Reality washed away the last of her pleasure and she felt utterly empty, numb—like she hadn’t just given Kirk a blowjob and had several earth-shattering orgasms herself. Someone else had done that—someone who had tried to hide from reality, to exchange grief for lust.

  It hadn’t worked.

  Mercy lifted herself up on her elbow. She needed to talk to Kirk—to explain to him how confused she felt—that what had just happened between them had more to do with loneliness and confusion than sex. But before she could speak she heard through her open bedroom window a car’s tires on their gravel driveway and then voices floated up with the breeze. “Oh, bloody, buggering hell!!” Mercy rushed to the window. “Sodding wanker! It’s Jax and Hunter!”

  When she turned back to Kirk he was still lying on the bed smiling at her. She hurried back to him, throwing his shirt at him before she yanked on her dress.

  “Hey, what’s the big deal? Hunter’s not your mom.”

  Mercy just stared at him until he wiped a hand across his face as he realized what he’d just said. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. That was stupid of me.”

  Mercy grabbed a brush from her vanity and attacked her hair. “It’s okay. I know what you meant. Kirk, I don’t want Hunter to know about this. Not right now.”

  Kirk looked up at her as he tucked in his shirt and zipped his jeans. “Are you sorry about what we just did?”

  Mercy went to him and touched his shoulder as she avoided the honest answer there wasn’t time for her to give. “Now isn’t a good time. Mom died. Things are not normal. I—I don’t know how Hunter would take this. I don’t want her to think that I’ve forgotten about Mom—that I don’t really care she’s gone.”

  “Okay, yeah, I get it. Hey, she already doesn’t like me much and this isn’t gonna help that.”

  “H appreciates that you’ve been here for me—for us. The more you’re around the more she’ll like you.” She draped her arms over his shoulders and attempted to sound normal. “I mean, how could she not like you?”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Seriously.” He cupped her butt cheek and squeezed. “Hey, if your sister and Jax are back that means I gotta get to practice. Crap! I didn’t realize it was that late. Being with a goddess definitely messed with my sense of time. Good thing Jax is here. Mom dropped me off, and I can bum a ride from him.” But Kirk didn’t move except to bend and kiss her passionately.

  Mercy let herself relax into his arms. Kirk loves me, she reminded herself.

  Hand in hand they hurried down the stairs. Mercy stepped into his arms one more time as they kissed slowly again. She did feel closer to him than she’d ever felt to any guy. And I love that closeness—that specialness that only the two of us share, Mercy told herself sternly. Then why do I feel so empty? The question hovered in her mind and Mercy shoved it aside.

  Kirk was still kissing her when the sound of a car door slamming made her break the embrace and push him playfully out the door.

  He backed onto the porch and mouthed I love you, goddess! before he turned to leap down the stairs.

  Mercy closed the door and sighed as she leaned against it. What is wrong with me? If Abigail were here sh
e’d understand. Mom would help me figure this out. If Abigail were here it wouldn’t have happened, Mercy thought, though she didn’t speak the words. She felt strange, like a rubber band that had been stretched too far. Mercy shook herself and spoke the rest of her thoughts to the quiet house. “I need to eat something to ground myself. That’s all. And I have to believe it’s all going to be okay. Hunter and I can save the trees, Emily is going to be herself again, and Kirk Whitfield finally said he loves me.” Resolutely, Mercy headed to the kitchen as she repeated, “That’s right. My Kirk loves me!”

  Seventeen

  At this time of year, when the sun camped out in the sky and gentle rains spilled from the clouds, it was easy for World of Blooms, Champaign’s largest nursery, to live up to its name. The candied scents of honeysuckle and lavender reached Hunter before she and Jax had even made it to the entrance. She inhaled and let the summertime smells pull her from the nearly empty parking lot, through the nursery’s sliding double doors, past the array of pots and seed packs, garden sculptures and indoor plants to the information booth set up outside the main building’s back entrance. The QS INTO AS hut looked like it belonged on the beach, complete with thatched straw roof, colorful orchid-shaped lights tacked up around the bar, and sun-streaked blond attendant.

  Jax ran his hand through his earth brown hair, turning his textured fringe into a messy pompadour before he smoothed down the front of his T-shirt and flicked a speck of lint from his shorts.

  Was he … primping?

  Hunter trailed her best friend as he glided up to the hut and rang the small bell that sat in the middle of the bar.

  The attendant’s soft curls bounced around her shoulders as she turned to face them. “Heya, what can I help you find?” Her voice was starshine, bright and clear and enchanting.

  Hunter’s mouth went dry and she wished she, too, had combed her hand through her hair, turned it into anything other than the plain ponytail that hung down her back like the densely packed flowers of a cattail.

  Jax leaned against the bar and glanced over his shoulder at Hunter. “What’d you say the name of that stuff is?”

  Hunter’s tongue was a ball bearing pressing against her teeth. There was no point in crushing on anyone back home in Goodeville. The one time she had, Chelsea Parham had run around school screaming that Hunter was trying to turn her into a lesbian. Since that backward day in middle school, Hunter had decided that no Goodeville girl would ever be attractive.

  They’re all warty toads, she’d said as her mother cupped her face and pressed their foreheads together.

  There’s a whole world outside of Goodeville, Abigail had whispered before she’d kissed the tip of Hunter’s nose.

  “It’s an insecticide.” Hunter cleared her throat and joined Jax in front of the hut. “For tree worms.”

  The attendant’s eyes, robin’s eggs pressed into her soft, round face, shimmered when she met Hunter’s gaze. “Let me get you a map. When the trees start to bloom, it can turn into a bit of a maze.” She brushed a curl from her cheek and pulled a map from beneath the bar. “We’re here,” she said as she took a red marker from the cup next to the bell and drew a star over the info desk. “And you want to go all the way back here.” She drew a line from the hut, through the bonsai tent and the section of full sun flowering plants to the back section of the property where she marked the CONTROL THOSE PESTS! hut with another star. “And this is where I usually work.” She circled the EDIBLE ORGANICS section twice and looked up at Hunter. The corners of her pink lips quirked as she spoke. “If you make it back in, ask for Grace.”

  Hunter’s legs were bags of pudding as she collected the map and wobbled away from the information booth.

  Gravel crunched as Jax followed his best friend. “That’s Hunter. She’s amazing,” he called back to the hut. “And she’ll definitely be back!”

  Hunter’s cheeks sizzled and her palms were slick with sweat. There was a whole world outside of Goodeville and Hunter hadn’t had to go far to find it.

  “Dude.” Jax bumped Hunter’s shoulder. “Why are you running away? Go back and talk to her. She’s clearly interested.”

  Hunter paused to unfold the map she’d scrunched up in her hand. Red marker stamped the scabbed-over slivers she’d accidentally dug into her palm the night before. “I don’t even know what I would say. It’s not like I ever get to practice any of that stuff.”

  “I’ll be your wingman,” he said as he dodged a pollen-coated bee. “I already have my pitch down: ‘This is Hunter Goode. The best, smartest, kindest, most talented girl you’ve ever met.’” His forehead wrinkled and he scratched his chin. “There’s more, but I’ll proceed on a case-by-case basis.”

  Hunter folded the map and crammed it into her front pocket. “What’s wrong with you? I’m not a prized pig, Jax. You can’t dress me up and sell me to the highest bidder.” The gravel walkway smoothed into round river rocks as they entered the bonsai tent and wove around tables covered with miniature trees and shrubs.

  “H!” Jax stood in the entrance of the tent, hands shoved into his pockets. “A lot’s going on. I get that and I’m here for you. But I’m not an ass.” The slim lines of worry sprouting from the sharp corners of his eyes vanished when his brows lifted. “I don’t think you’re a piece of meat I can toss out to lady-lovin’ hyenas. I just want to help.”

  Hunter picked at the edge of her thumbnail. “I’m not ready. For flirting or a girlfriend or making out or sex. I just—” Her eyes burned, and each blink sent tears down her cheeks. She’d never admitted any of that before. Never felt the reality of it until now. It had been easier to think that she was the victim of circumstance. That, if she lived in Chicago or New York or LA, she’d have a serious girlfriend or maybe even a revolving door of torrid love affairs. Goodeville kept Hunter protected. Kept her from seeing her truth.

  Jax wrapped his arms around her. He blocked out the light and the saccharine scents of flowers and the pulsing buzz of nearby bees. “Take your time.” His breath tickled her ear. “I love you, Hunter Goode. When you’re ready, some badass gal will be, too.”

  She pressed her face against his shoulder. Her best friend always smelled like clean sheets and peppermint. “I liked your line about lady-lovin’ hyenas.”

  Jax’s chest shook with a laugh. “Really painted a good picture, didn’t it?”

  Hunter pressed away from him and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

  “Hey, H, you got any mucus removal spells up your sleeve?” Jax pulled his shirt away from his shoulder and pointed at the slimy wet spot she’d left behind.

  Hunter’s eyebrow rose as she smiled. “Someday, when I’m a famous witch, that snot shirt will be worth a lot of money.”

  Jax followed Hunter out of the tent and back into the sunny spring afternoon. “So, we’re eventually posting your witchy-ness for all to see?” He jutted his chin toward a bench of bright pink flowers. “You’ll be able to tell the photogs that your entourage started next to a cockscomb.”

  “You just wanted to say cock, didn’t you?”

  His shoulders hunched and he hid his laugh behind his hand. “I did, but only because I don’t remember the name of what we’re actually looking for.”

  Hunter pulled her phone out of her back pocket and brought up the article she’d read to Jax in the car on the way over and scrolled until she saw the name in bold. “Bacillus thur-ing-ein-sis.” She broke down the last word the same way she did each time they discussed abiogenesis in her biology class. Something about the sis really tripped her up.

  Jax’s chuckle was interrupted by a snort as he ran his fingertips along the starlike blooms of a row of daffodils. “I’m positive you’re still not saying it right.”

  “Well, at least I don’t snort when I laugh.”

  Jax wrapped his arm around Hunter’s shoulders and pulled her into him. “You love my laugh snorts,” he teased and rubbed his knuckles against the top of her head.

  Hunter couldn’
t help but laugh as she pushed and twisted in an attempt to wriggle free. “You’re like the brother I never wanted.” She grunted and reached around to Jax’s right side.

  “Not the Claw! Not the Claw!” He erupted into a cacophony of snorts and giggles as Hunter snapped her fingers open and shut along his ribs.

  Jax released her, wrapped his arms around his middle, and stumbled backward into a table of budding hydrangeas.

  “Works every time.” Hunter smoothed her hand over the mess of puffy bumps Jax had inflicted on her hair and sighed. “Remember when I was the one who would hold you down and give you noogies?” She pulled her tie from her disheveled ponytail and shook out her hair. “Oh, that was the life…”

  Jax lifted the bottom of his shirt and wiped his eyes. Dark hair ran in a furry track down the middle of his flat stomach and disappeared behind the waistband of his shorts. Gone was the little boy who used to stand between the swings at recess, arms stretched as wide as they could go, hands gripping the metal chains in order to save her one, or the little boy who used to climb onto a kitchen chair to help her get her ponytail just right. Her best friend had turned into a man and she hadn’t even noticed.

  “That was back when I sounded like Mickey Mouse and Mercy said that I’d be shorter than Kevin Hart.” Jax shoved his hands into his pockets and joined Hunter back on the path that wound through the sun-drenched plants to the small hut labeled CONTROL THOSE PESTS! “You should leave your hair down more often.” He nodded toward the lengths of inky black that brushed Hunter’s shoulder blades. “It’s really pretty.”

  She gathered her hair and positioned it back into her signature ponytail. “I was just wondering what a straight guy thought about my hair choices. Tell me, should I also smile more?”

  “Ah, yes, you read my mind.” Jax tapped his temple and nodded dramatically. “And while you’re at it, you should go back to the kitchen and make me a sammich, extra mayo, no crusts.”

  It felt good to laugh again. To be away from her house and the ghost of her mother. It felt good to be twin-less, free from her sister and the weight of Mercy’s broken pieces that Hunter kept picking up but couldn’t quite fit back together.