by Sydney Logan
“I did need you,” she admitted. “I mean, I do. I do need you.”
“What’s wrong?”
Angelina tried to blink back her tears, but they fell anyway as she told him about the doctor’s diagnosis.
“I’m scared, and I’m bitter. I just . . . I don’t understand cancer. I’ll never understand it. They pump you full of poison for weeks and weeks, only for you to be told it didn’t work? It didn’t make one bit of difference? But we’re going to do it again? Oh, and this time, you’re going to be even sicker?”
Dylan pulled her close, and she buried her face against his neck. She cried and cried until she was sure she had no more tears to shed. Then he would say something sweet and hold her a little tighter, and Angelina would just weep harder.
Eventually, her tears subsided, leaving her feeling shattered and drained.
“You should sleep,” Dylan said. He kissed her forehead and started to rise from the bed.
Panic gripped her. “Where are you going?”
“Just to the couch, sweetheart. I can’t check in at the motel until morning.”
“I wish you’d stay. Stay here with me.”
Dylan wanted that, more than anything.
“Are you sure? What about Celia?”
Angelina smiled for the first time in days. Dylan had no way of knowing that finding them in bed together—even if it was completely innocent—would be the highlight of her mother’s year.
“She let you into my bedroom, didn’t she?”
Dylan couldn’t argue with that. He rose up just long enough to kick off his shoes before snuggling under the blanket. Angelina rested her head against his chest, and he buried his nose in her hair as his arms enveloped her.
“Celia’s going to be okay,” he murmured sleepily. Then he laughed. “It’s too bad there aren’t any psychic witches in your family. I bet if we had a crystal ball, we’d see that your mom is going to be just fine.”
That was another thing he had no way of knowing. They did have a psychic in the family. And that’s when Angelina realized that maybe her mother didn’t possess some unwavering sense of calm after all. Perhaps Celia’s serenity came from knowing she would, indeed, be okay.
Angelina felt a glimmer of hope swell in her heart, and she closed her eyes.
The morning sun beamed through her window. It was far too bright, and her eyes snapped open.
Am I late for work?
A set of strong arms tightened around her, pulling her back against his chest, and the shop was quickly forgotten. Smiling, Angelina snuggled deeper, tugging the blanket around them.
“You’re beautiful, but you snore like a lumberjack,” Dylan murmured against her ear.
A giggling Angelina slid her hand along his arm before linking their fingers together.
“I don’t snore.”
Dylan laughed softly and placed a kiss just below her ear.
“Good morning, baby.”
She smiled, loving the endearment. “Good morning. This is nice.”
“I was just thinking the same thing. Maybe I should move in.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Think Celia would mind?”
Angelina laughed. “Celia would be thrilled.”
For a moment, she felt guilty for being so happy, knowing what her mother would soon be facing. Dylan sensed her change in mood, because he held her a little tighter, pressing a soft kiss against her neck.
“I really missed you, Angelina.”
“I missed you, too.”
“I thought a lot about what you said—about the spell and how you’re afraid to trust that my feelings are real. And I understand because I’m a skeptic, too. I believe in your healing touch, obviously, but I probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t witnessed it. But this . . . what I feel for you . . . what I’ve felt for you since the moment I laid eyes on you. This is real, Angelina. I know it is.”
“It’s real for me, too,” Angelina said, closing her eyes. “I needed you last night, and now you’re here.”
“And I knew you needed me. How crazy is that?”
Angelina delicately raked her nails against his arm, causing goose bumps to erupt against his flesh.
“It’s very overwhelming,” she said. Then her face split into a grin. “My mom is going to be thrilled. She’s always believed that you came to Maple Ridge because I wished for you.”
“Which is why she’s been so adamant about the two of us getting along?” He chuckled. “That hurts a little. I thought she really liked me.”
“She does, trust me. I might be an adult, but my mother would never have allowed you in my bedroom at three in the morning if she didn’t like you.”
“Well, that’s reassuring. I couldn’t believe she was sitting out on the porch last night. What do you think she meant when she said she’d been waiting for me?”
Angelina didn’t want to lie to him, but her mother’s gift was a story only she could share.
“You’ll have to ask her about that. Are you always a reporter?”
Dylan stilled, and Angelina immediately detected the change in his mood.
What did I say?
“Not always, no,” he murmured, nuzzling her.
Needing to be closer, Angelina reached behind her, drawing his leg over hers. She was equally relieved and disappointed to find he was still wearing his jeans.
“I bet it was uncomfortable sleeping in denim.”
“It’s even more uncomfortable now.”
Angelina didn’t have to ask why.
Grinning, she wiggled against him. Dylan groaned low against her ear, causing shivers to ripple up her spine.
“Don’t tempt me, Angelina. We’re in your mother’s house.”
“Are you always going to be the voice of reason? Because I can’t lie, that’s going to get old really fast.”
With a playful growl, Dylan rolled over onto his back, pulling her on top of him. They laughed, and with their chests and hips pressed together, it was so easy for Angelina to forget she had to behave. She kissed him deeply, feeling every ounce of her doubt and fear slip away as they explored each other’s mouths.
“Are you tempted?”
Dylan gripped her hips tightly. “You have no idea.”
Wrong. Angelina had some idea, but as much as she loved lying in bed with him, she knew they should go say good morning to her mom.
Dylan realized it, too, and she was just about to climb out of bed when he tightened his hold on her waist.
“One more kiss,” he whispered.
Angelina’s blue eyes glittered with happiness before she leaned down, kissing him softly once more.
“Do you want more pancakes? More juice?”
Angelina stifled her laughter as she watched her mother refill Dylan’s glass for the third time. Celia was smiling brightly this morning, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.
“So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?” Celia asked the two of them.
Suddenly, Angelina remembered.
“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” she said to Dylan. “I’ve made plans with Maddie to look at wedding dresses tonight. I could try to get out of it, but . . .”
“No, it’s okay. You should spend time with Maddie,” Dylan said, smiling at her. He then turned to her mom. “Celia, I need to do a few things in town, but I’d like to talk to you later, if you’re feeling up to it?”
“Of course. Anytime is fine.”
After they helped with dishes, Angelina called the store to check in with Maddie. They’d sold two banjos and a guitar, which was a definite improvement in sales. Maddie was thrilled to hear that Dylan had returned early, and she even offered to postpone their trip to the bridal shop so Angelina could spend the evening with him. It was tempting, but Angelina was the maid of honor, and she had duties to fulfill.
“You don’t look too happy about this shopping trip,” Dylan said as they walked toward their vehicles.
“I’m no
t. Shopping for anything with Maddie is kind of like an Olympic event. I can only imagine how traumatizing looking at wedding dresses is going to be.”
Dylan pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Can I have you all to myself this weekend?”
“Do you want me all to yourself?”
“Yes, I do. Is that okay?”
Angelina grinned and rose on her tip-toes, kissing him tenderly.
“More than okay,” she told him.
Later that afternoon, Dylan and Celia took a walk to the pond. Cash was right by their side, barking loudly at the squirrels as they scurried into the woods.
“This was your father’s land?” Dylan asked.
Celia nodded and looped her arm through his. “And his father’s.”
“Angelina told me about your husband and the fish hook,” he said with a grin. “Very smooth.”
Celia laughed. “Samuel was very romantic.”
“You miss him.”
“Every day.”
“Angelina misses him, too,” Dylan replied. “It’s hard for me to relate to that. I never really knew my dad, and I’m glad.”
“Why glad?”
He sighed deeply. “My father wasn’t a good husband. He walked out when I was three years old. My mom had to work two jobs to take care of us and put herself through school. She’s much happier without him, but it was hard growing up.”
“Have you ever considered searching for him?”
“I hadn’t, but Mom just told me he’s been in touch with her. He hasn’t bothered calling in twenty years, and now he wants to talk to me?”
“Do you want to talk to him?”
“I want to punch him in the face,” Dylan muttered, and Celia laughed. “No, I don’t want to talk to him, but my mom thinks I should consider it. I don’t know. Maybe I should thank him.”
Celia looked puzzled. “Thank him?”
He nodded. “I have no real memories of the man, but he taught me everything I need to know about being a good husband and father. He was the perfect example of what not to do.”
Once they reached the pond, the two of them sat down on the dock. Sunlight reflected against the water and a soft breeze danced in the air.
“I bet the mountains are pretty in the fall.”
“They are,” Celia replied, smiling at him. “Dylan, I don’t think you brought me out here to talk about your dad or the mountains, did you?”
Dylan grinned. “No.”
She patted his hand in encouragement.
“I love your daughter,” he said. “I haven’t told her so, but I do. She’s worried that my feelings are being influenced by the spell, and maybe they are. But I don’t care. I love her. She won’t believe me . . . not yet, anyway. And I don’t want to say the words until she’s ready to hear them.”
Celia nodded. “You know her so well. Angelina is very stubborn. So are you. It’s why the two of you are perfect for each other. But I don’t think you’ll have to wait much longer to tell her how you feel.”
Dylan looked at her quizzically. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Last night, when you met me out on the porch, you said you’d been waiting for me. What did you mean?”
Celia laughed. “Ah, the inquisitive reporter. I’ve been expecting that question.”
He grinned. “Well?”
“I believe Angelina told you we have gifts.”
“Yes, she’s a healer.”
“And I’m clairvoyant,” she explained. “So was my mother.”
“You have psychic visions?”
“I prefer to think of them as spiritual dreams, but yes. That’s why I was expecting you last night, and that’s why I’ve known from the day you arrived in Maple Ridge that you would fall in love with my daughter.”
With every new bit of information, it was becoming easier for Dylan to suspend belief.
“Did you foresee I was going to need a new job?”
Celia looked surprised. “No. Why do you need a new job?”
“Because I quit the magazine. I told my editor I wasn’t going to finish this story, and he told me to write it or else. I chose else.”
She smiled. “That I did foresee.”
“You did?”
“Yes, but it didn’t take a psychic vision to figure it out. I knew eventually Angelina would become more important than your story. I wasn’t too concerned. While our privacy is important to us, it isn’t as if we’re harboring any deep, dark secrets, and the stories I shared with you can easily be found in your research down at the library or from some of the more talkative folks in town. Rumors and gossip have swirled around us for generations, and people will choose to believe what they want to believe.”
“But I have proof.”
“Yes, when Angelina healed your hands,” Celia said. “She is quite gifted. She always has been. Like most teenagers, she went through her period of rebellion, but in her case, she was rebelling against her natural instincts. Angelina wanted to be normal, and that combined with her father’s death, is why she doesn’t practice magic. And that’s her choice.”
They grew quiet, giving Dylan the chance to absorb that information. After a few minutes, Celia turned to him.
“Now, I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“You do realize you have a choice, too?” she said softly. “It’s not as if the spell turns a man into a puppet on a string. Just because the spell brought you here doesn’t mean you have to stay. That is your choice, Dylan.”
He nodded thoughtfully, but he knew, deep in his heart, it wasn’t really true.
He didn’t have a choice at all.
Chapter 13
Choosing Angelina’s bridesmaid’s dress had taken a grand total of fifteen minutes. The gown was pretty and purple, with a halter neckline. It was three hours later, and Maddie was trying on her tenth dress, thanks to an overly enthusiastic bridal consultant who was dying to make a hefty commission.
“I thought you wanted something simple?”
Maddie appraised herself in the full-length mirror. “You don’t think this is pretty?”
“I think it’s beautiful,” Angelina said, peering at the ribbons in the back. “Is that a corset?”
Lydia, the consultant, shot her a disapproving glare, and Angelina glared right back.
“This is an organza ball gown with a chapel train,” Lydia said as she began toying with the laces. “The veil is made of imported lace with scalloped edging. Any bride would love to walk down the aisle wearing this dress.”
Lydia was getting on Angelina’s nerves.
“It’s a stunning gown, and you look gorgeous in it,” Angelina told her best friend. This formal dress wasn’t even close to what Maddie had described as wanting for her wedding day. Angelina worried she was going to fall in love with it and not be able to afford it. While Lydia continued her sales pitch, Angelina snuck a glance at the price tag.
No way.
No.
She had to get creative.
“While it makes you look fantastic, I bet that corset is a lot of work for the groom,” Angelina said nonchalantly.
Maddie’s head snapped up. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I was just thinking it might really kill the mood on your wedding night. You know, having to take the time to undo all these ribbons before the honeymoon can begin. Time that could be spent doing more important things . . .”
Maddie’s face paled. “And Nick was never a Boy Scout. What if he can’t get me unlaced?”
Angelina stifled a giggle.
Lydia could sense she was losing her commission. “Well, that’s why you buy a going-away dress! You’ll change at the church. I’m sure your bridesmaid will be happy to help you with the ribbons. We have some lovely—”
“I can’t afford two dresses,” Maddie snapped. “No, this won’t work at all. I need something simple and classic. Easy on and definitely easy off.”
Angelina managed to hide her smile as a disgruntled Lydia went off in search of dress number eleven. She began unstrapping her friend from the two thousand dollar dress, and when she looked up, she caught Maddie’s eye in the mirror.
“Thank you,” she mouthed.
Angelina winked.
“This corset really is a pain in the ass,” she said, tugging on the ribbons.
Maddie smiled. “Thank you for being here.”
“Of course. Where else would I be?”
“With your mom. With Dylan.”
“I can be with them all weekend. This is important.”
“She’s going to be okay, you know,” Maddie said. “This second round of chemo will do exactly what it’s supposed to do.”
Angelina nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“I didn’t think you were expecting Dylan until next week.”
“I wasn’t.” The last of the laces fell away, and Maddie let the dress pool at her feet. “It was a complete surprise when he showed up in my bedroom this morning.”
“In your bedroom?”
Angelina told her all about Dylan’s arrival and her mother’s premonition that he was coming.
“And she didn’t tell you?” Maddie laughed just as Lydia arrived with another dress. “It’s a good thing you don’t sleep in the nude. Or maybe that’s a bad thing . . .”
Imagining the two of them snuggling naked under a blanket caused butterflies to erupt in Angelina’s stomach.
“It’s a bad thing,” she muttered.
Maddie giggled as Lydia helped her step into the dress. The gown was made of satin and lace, with no straps, no train, and—most importantly—no corset.
The girls gazed at the mirror.
“This is perfect,” Maddie said.
Tears welled in Angelina’s eyes, because it really was.
After choosing a simple veil and shoes, the girls were in the car and headed back to Maple Ridge. Maddie was in her bride bubble, chatting away about her ideas for the reception. As happy as Angelina was for her friend, her mind couldn’t help but drift.
