“GRAN?” Cole poked his head out the back door of the enormous Victorian two-story he’d grown up in. As far as he could tell, Gran wasn’t in the house—not unusual, given the weather and the fact that she was ungodly spry for ninety-two. “I brought your gumdrops.”
From the bench by the koi pond under the willow, she waved at him. Cole left the box on the kitchen counter, careful not to disturb the bundle of chicory she’d set out, and joined her.
“You’re later than usual,” she observed, her countenance neutral, but Cole detected the sharpness underneath. Gran might be nearing a hundred, but nothing got past her.
“I have a case,” Cole said smoothly. He’d learned long ago that the only way to lie to his grandmother was to tell the truth. He did have a case. It simply hadn’t made him late today. Well, unless you counted the extra time he’d taken to make the gumdrops because he’d fallen into an idle daydream about Leo.
Gran had spent over a decade thinking Cole was going to take after his mundane human father; Cole using his magic was a weakness of hers. “You’re a good boy,” she said. “Anyone I know?”
Cole caught himself before he could answer and looked into the pond. Three fat white-and-orange fish lazed in the water. The black-and-orange one twitched its tail and gobbled down a bug that had settled on the surface. “I don’t think so.” Any detail he offered would give away his attraction. He didn’t want to dwell on his love life or lack thereof, and if Gran suspected, by God, there would be dwelling.
“Well.” She pushed herself up before Cole could offer to help. “Since you’re here, you’ll stay for supper.”
Cole stayed for supper every Friday. “Yes, Gran.”
“I’m going to get started in the kitchen. Would you mind cutting a bunch of those cornflowers for me? I need to start putting them up now, or I’ll run out of drying room.”
Cole didn’t roll his eyes. She asked him to harvest something every week. “Yes, Gran.”
“The boline is on the porch!”
Probably right where he’d put it after he’d sharpened it last week. Shaking his head, Cole stood to get the knife.
Gran had a proper witch’s garden. It rambled, and weeds grew unimpeded because when the herbs fought for resources it made their magic more potent. Cole set the gardener’s mat on the grass next to the cornflowers—just going to seed now, as summer came to a close—and grasped a handful of flowers close to the ground.
The boline wasn’t strictly necessary. Cole used regular garden shears on his own herbs, and they were just as effective. But Gran liked her traditions, and Cole had been harvesting her crop since he was a boy. He cut the flowers seven to a bundle and tied them with the twine wrapped around the boline’s handle: five times around, one for each point on the pentagram.
Cole set down the seventh bundle and wiped his hands on his jeans, debating. The laurel next to the house swayed gently in the breeze, filling the air with its pungent scent.
Cole had grown up in that tree, climbing it, swinging from its branches. It shouldn’t have been able to grow so far north, but shouldn’t didn’t count for much with Gran.
In the end, cowardice got the better of him.
“These gumdrops are just the trick for my arthritis,” Gran praised when he came inside to hang the flowers. She bussed his cheek, then teased, “They might be even better than the original recipe.”
Cole remembered having stomach cramps as a child and drinking Gran’s foul blue cohosh tea. “You could’ve added some sugar,” he teased back.
“Spoken like a man who has never dealt with children on a sugar rush.”
That made him snort. “Did you forget what I do for a living? Children on a sugar rush are my bread and butter.”
Gran laughed too, even though she’d spent the past few weeks trying to convince him that his calling was in alternative medicine. “That’s my boy. Still terrorizing the parents of the neighborhood twenty years later.”
“Hey, someone’s gotta keep the dentist in cavities.” He peered over her shoulder and sniffed appreciatively. “Need help?”
Gran swatted at him with a wooden spoon. “I may be old, but I’m not infirm. Go set the table.”
Cole did what she told him. In the end, he always did.
WHEN the shop bell rang on Saturday, Cole was standing on a ladder behind the counter, filling a paper sack from one of the colorful jars. He eyeballed $1.25 worth of Swedish fish—or his version of them—then carefully climbed down to present them to his waiting customer.
“Thank you,” the little girl whispered, clutching the bag to her chest with one hand and forking over a stack of quarters with the other.
“You’re welcome,” Cole told her, pretending he wasn’t dying a little on the inside. She was adorable.
Her mother smiled at him and led the girl toward the door, and finally Cole allowed himself the luxury of looking over.
He didn’t have the sight, not like Gran or even Kate. But he knew when he looked up he’d see—
“Hi,” Leo said sheepishly, with a grin that lit his eyes.
Cole worked at not swooning. “Hi,” he said back. “What brings you here? Sudden hankering for sweets?”
“Just coming back from brunch with Amy. Thought I’d check in and see if you’d made any progress?”
Cole had to work a little harder now to keep from betraying that he’d already worked it out. “I have a few ideas,” he hedged. “I didn’t know you and Amy knew each other.” Amy had definitely played that pretty cool.
Leo shook his head. “New acquaintance. I’m broadening my horizons.”
With the kind of life-altering events Leo had been through recently, Cole figured that made sense. “Club scene kinda sucks all of a sudden, eh?”
“You could say that. And all of a sudden I’m crazy jealous when my coworker gets a flower delivery from a secret admirer. Jimmy didn’t even have a clue who it was from.”
Cole had never been much of a fan of clubbing. He liked dancing, but the club scene made him feel self-conscious, which made it hard to let go and enjoy himself. “Well, I have good news and bad news, and then more good news.”
Hooking a foot under the stool at the counter to pull it closer, Leo sat. “What’s the good news? The first one.”
“I know how to break the curse.”
Leo brightened, or maybe the rest of the world just dimmed a little in comparison. “Seriously? What a relief.” He laughed, and the tension that had held his shoulders just a shade too high relaxed and left him even more ridiculously handsome. Then he paused. “Why do I have a feeling about the bad news?”
With a wince, Cole admitted, “I know how to break it… but I can’t actually do it.” When Leo’s face fell, he hurried to continue, “Which is fine! It’s the kind of curse that will end in its own time. Meanwhile, I can try a few things to loosen it, and we might be able to get you out that way. And if you get to the end of your rope before then, I can break it by force—but I almost never recommend that.”
Leo gave him the hairy eyeball. “Why not?”
Cole waved a hand. “Consequences. Scarring, illness, unpleasant pustules. One client got the hiccups for three days. Athlete’s foot. A thunderstorm that knocked out power in three counties. Ooh, one time there was a microplague of aphids. Poor guy’s garden has never been the same.”
“Oh.” Now Leo’s shoulders were sagging. Damn. “Can you tell what the consequences will be?”
“Sometimes. Mostly not.” Cole shrugged. “Some are worse than others, obviously. Sometimes nothing happens.” In this case, he didn’t want to find out firsthand if he didn’t have to. Someone had put a lot of thought and effort into that spellwork. “I usually only recommend a force break if the curse is actively causing harm.”
“Yeah. Well, I guess at the risk of athlete’s foot, that makes sense,” Leo joked weakly. “Did you say there was more good news?”
“I did! At least, there is if you like pie.” He chose his words—and his mentality—carefully. He didn’t want to fall prey to the curse.
Leo looked around as though he expected a pie to magically appear (which sadly Cole couldn’t do), so apparently they were a go for pie. “I like pie.”
“Good! And you’re off work tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I go back Monday.”
Perfect. “There’s a festival two towns over—apple harvest. That means candy apples, apple donuts, apple turnovers… and more apple pie than you’ve seen in your life.”
“Sounds incredible.”
“And if you like hay rides, terrible carnival games, and second-rate handicrafts, it’s even better.”
Leo laughed. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like something I shouldn’t miss.”
“Pick you up at eleven?” Cole suggested. He tried not to sigh in relief when the words came out unimpeded. “The pie-eating contest is at noon, if you’re interested in getting a stomachache.”
“I think I’d rather leave the festival with my enjoyment of pie still intact,” Leo said wryly. “But the rest sounds good.”
Cole tried to say it’s a date, his inner flirt winning out in spite of his best efforts, but the words didn’t come. Of course. He shook his head to clear it. He should know better. “Great. See you then.”