Mountain Charm Read online

  Tears flooded her eyes, and when one traitorous tear crept down her cheek, Dylan lifted his hand and gently brushed it away. His touch was unbelievably tender, and she didn’t deserve it. She’d been so rude, and yet here he was, wiping her tears and being kind.

  Sniffing quietly, Angelina placed her guitar back in its case before reaching into her jacket for the bud she always carried in her pocket.

  “What’s that?” Dylan asked.

  “This is the bud of a balsam fir tree. Mom says they have magical qualities and supposedly mend a broken heart. I’ve carried it since the day my father passed away.”

  Dylan gazed at the blossom in her palm.

  “Do you believe in magic, Angelina?”

  She wrapped her fingers around the tiny bud and tossed it into the pond. They watched as the dead flower crumbled and scattered in the water.

  “Not anymore,” she said.

  The day had been one of the most stressful of Angelina’s professional life. She had spent her morning on the phone, arguing with a vendor regarding a shipment of banjos she’d received but never ordered. After dealing with that mess, she’d caught a teenager trying to steal a CD from the clearance rack. Thanks to the storm raging outside, the power had flickered on and off all afternoon. And right at closing time, a group of tourists had walked into the shop. After spending an hour looking at everything in her store, the group waltzed right out the door without purchasing so much as a guitar pick.

  And she’d handled it all on her own, because her best friend was home with the flu.

  Angelina had nearly made it home in the torrential downpour when she felt a vibration under her feet. The steering wheel jerked in her hand, and she groaned.

  “Please don’t be a flat tire,” she muttered under her breath.

  Angelina pulled onto the side of the two-lane road and threw her jacket’s hood over her head. The rain fell in sheets while lightning flashed overhead. A quick glance at her driver’s side confirmed her worst fear, and she kicked the deflated tire before climbing back into her car. Angelina had a spare in the trunk—and she knew how to change a flat—but she didn’t want to attempt changing it in the middle of the storm. Soaking wet and on the verge of tears, she angrily slapped the hazard light button and turned on the radio while waiting for the monsoon to pass.

  “Power outages are widespread, and trees are down throughout the county,” the announcer said. “This is a dangerous storm with up to sixty mile per hour winds . . .”

  Fantastic. She grabbed her cell and called to check on her mom. Celia was at a restaurant in Pigeon Forge, safe and sound and far away from the storm. While they were talking, Angelina distinctly heard the hearty laughter of a man. She was just about to ask about her mother’s dinner date when a sharp rapping on the window made her scream.

  “Angelina, are you all right?”

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, Angelina spotted Dylan’s SUV.

  Of course.

  “I’m fine, Mom. I’ll call you later.”

  Angelina tossed her phone back into her bag before rolling down the window.

  “Are you okay?” Dylan shouted over the rain and wind. He was absolutely soaked, despite the umbrella over his head.

  “Just a flat. I’ll change it when the storm passes.”

  “The storm isn’t passing, Angelina. It’s supposed to do this all night long. Let me take you home. We’ll come back tomorrow and get your car.”

  Sighing deeply, she turned off the lights and ignition. After locking up, she quickly followed Dylan to his vehicle.

  “I’m sorry about soaking your seats,” she said once they were settled into the cab.

  “No big deal. How long have you been sitting out here?”

  “Just a few minutes. I was waiting for the storm to pass before I changed my tire.”

  He looked surprised. “You can do that?”

  “Umm, yes?”

  Dylan held up his hands. “No offense. I just don’t know many girls who can.”

  The man was maddening, but the last thing she wanted to do was argue. She was tired and grouchy, and any conversation with him wouldn’t end well.

  “No offense taken,” Angelina replied sweetly. “Would you mind taking me home now?”

  Dylan smirked and pulled his SUV out onto the highway.

  “We can’t just talk like two normal human beings, can we?”

  “Nope.”

  “I wonder why that is?”

  Angelina bit her lip and stared out the windshield. The wipers flung water from side to side in a dizzying rhythm that made her eyes cross.

  “So now you aren’t talking to me at all?”

  Angelina wondered why he would want to talk when every discussion ended in an argument. Still, he was nice enough to rescue her, so she decided to throw him a bone.

  “How ‘bout this weather?”

  “The weather sucks, Angelina.”

  She shrugged. He couldn’t say she didn’t try.

  “Not every conversation ends in a fight,” Dylan pointed out. “Last night was nice.”

  Last night at the pond had been nice, but today, she was regretting being so open and honest.

  “How much of my parents’ love story is going to be featured in your article?”

  “None, if you don’t want it to be.”

  That surprised her. “Really?”

  “Really. I’m not a jerk, Angelina, despite what you think.”

  She offered him a soft, relieved smile before turning toward the window once again. The driveway was just ahead, and she couldn’t wait to get out of her wet clothes and take a hot shower.

  “I hope you have plenty of candles and a flashlight,” Dylan said.

  “Why?”

  He pointed toward the dark house. Celia always left the porch light on, so it was easy to assume the electricity was out.

  “Think your mom’s okay?” Dylan asked as the vehicle came to a stop in the driveway.

  “She’s fine. She’s having dinner with a friend in Pigeon Forge.”

  A male friend. I’ll have to remember to interrogate her in the morning.

  Angelina reached for the door handle. “Well, I appreciate the ride. Thanks, Dylan.”

  He looked hesitant. “I’m not sure how I feel about you spending the night alone, not to mention without electricity.”

  “I’m a big girl, and I have a huge Labrador retriever to keep me company.”

  Dylan shook his head. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll sit out on the porch if you don’t want me to come inside, but I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You realize you’re being ridiculous, right?”

  He shrugged.

  Angelina rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

  They climbed out of the SUV and raced through the rain toward the porch. Cash’s noisy bark could be heard coming from just inside the door.

  “Hey, boy,” Angelina said, pushing her way past the yapping dog and unzipping her wet hoodie. Cash continued barking happily as he pounced on Dylan, who was still lingering outside. The poor animal was looking between the two of them, all torn and confused, until Angelina laughed.

  “My dog is going to have a heart attack if you don’t come inside.”

  Dylan grinned. “Are you sure?”

  She pretended to give it some thought. “Are you going to attack me?”

  “Only if you want me to.”

  Angelina felt her pulse quicken. Is he flirting?

  “Umm . . . there are candles on the fireplace mantle,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in her voice. “You know where the bathroom is, if you want to dry off. I’m going to go find a flashlight and change into something warm.”

  Using her cell phone light as her guide through the darkened house, Angelina located a real flashlight and extra candles in the hallway closet. Then she headed to her bedroom and changed into a pair of sweats and fuzzy socks. Dylan’s clothes were wet, too, so she found one of her dad’s old flannel shirts and a p
air of sweatpants in the back of her mom’s closet.

  When she returned to the living room, four candles had been lit on the mantle of the fireplace, and Dylan and Cash were sitting on the couch.

  “I thought you might like to change, too,” Angelina said, handing him the shirt and sweats.

  “Thanks.”

  He headed to the guest bathroom while she took his spot on the couch. The storm continued to rage outside, but now that she was home, the sound of the rain was relaxing as it pounded against the roof. Cash snuggled close while she got comfortable on the couch. Leaning her head back, Angelina closed her eyes and prayed for the tension in her shoulders and neck to ease now that her crappy day was over and done.

  But it wasn’t done, because Dylan was in her house.

  And naked in her bathroom.

  Dylan fumbled with the last button. It was a man’s shirt, and he wondered if it belonged to an ex-boyfriend? Or maybe her father?

  He hoped it had belonged to her father.

  After towel-drying his hair and placing his wet clothes across the tub, he slowly made his way back into the living room. Angelina was on the couch with her head leaned back, rolling it from side-to-side. She was wearing the biggest, slouchiest sweatshirt and most ridiculous looking socks, and yet she was still the sexiest girl he’d ever seen.

  He was desperate to touch her.

  Clearly she’d had a rough day. Having a flat tire in the middle of a storm would stress out anyone. Giving her a neck massage would be the gentlemanly thing to do.

  Right?

  “I give kickass massages,” he said as he stepped closer.

  Cash jumped off the couch and trotted off toward the kitchen. Dylan took it as a sign of male solidarity. Thank God the dog liked him.

  “I bet you do.” Angelina smirked, but he couldn’t help but notice the flush of her cheeks and the way it spread across her neck.

  “I’m serious. Sit up.”

  Dylan sat down on the couch, and she sighed before turning around. He brushed her hair aside and placed his hands on her shoulders, kneading them softly. Angelina’s groan vibrated through him, and he closed his eyes, willing his body to calm down.

  “That feels so good.”

  Not helping.

  Dylan chuckled. “Told you so.”

  “Shut up,” she mumbled.

  The storm raged outside, but it was easy to ignore as his hands became acquainted with her body. His fingers drifted along her spine, slowly loosening her tired muscles. Dylan moved closer, letting his chest brush against her back.

  “Better?” His warm breath tickled her ear, and he smiled when she trembled beneath his touch.

  “Yes.”

  He allowed his fingers to drift along her skin. Angelina’s breath hitched when he slipped his hand beneath her sweatshirt, letting it rest briefly on the small of her back.

  Her skin was so soft. And this was just a tiny bit of flesh on her back. He didn’t dare imagine the rest of her.

  “Cold?” Dylan’s voice was a throaty whisper against her ear.

  He let his fingers ghost up her spine once again, stalling when he reached the nape of her neck. He lingered there, loving the feel of her skin and wisps of her hair against his fingertips.

  “Angelina—”

  Suddenly the room was flooded with light.

  Dylan blinked rapidly, as if he were coming out of a trance.

  They both let out shaky breaths as Angelina jumped to her feet. She walked toward the fireplace and extinguished the candles before turning around again.

  She looked as confused as he felt.

  Dylan slowly rose from the couch. She took a step closer until the two of them were merely inches apart. He lifted his hand, cupping her cheek before letting his fingers slide down to her neck. Her pulse was pounding, and he wondered if his was just as frantic.

  “Storm’s gone,” Angelina whispered.

  He knew it was her lame attempt to laugh off whatever had just taken place between the two of them.

  But Dylan knew, without a doubt, the storm was far from over.

  Feeling a bit more level-headed, Dylan spent the next day doing research in the Maple Ridge Public Library. The building was a little hole-in-the-wall with a sweet librarian by the name of Shirley Henry. Dylan didn’t ask, but the woman had to be pushing eighty, and she was a fount of useful information.

  “All of the sisters were witches,” Shirley explained.

  They were gathered at a table, and Dylan was leafing through a pile of local historical journals.

  “How many sisters?”

  “Three,” the librarian said. “Abigail, Catherine, and Savannah. Of the three, Abigail was the brightest. She was very focused on her craft, especially after the accidental death of her husband.”

  Dylan noted her tone. “Accidental, huh?”

  “Liver failure. Very tragic. And quick. Abigail’s husband was not a nice man. You’ll read all about him in this book.” She pointed toward a giant leather-bound volume. “Trust me, though. He was a bastard.”

  Dylan smirked and grabbed his pen “Got it. So Abigail Rose would be Angelina’s great-great grandmother?”

  “Add one more great,” Shirley said, and Dylan nodded as he scribbled on his legal pad. “Abigail was a witch doctor. Now, to be honest, most of her home remedies were brewed in a pot and had nothing to do with real magic, but the woman really knew her herbs. To a mountain town without a doctor for a hundred miles, Abigail Rose was an angel.”

  Dylan was confused. “So, if her remedies weren’t magical, how do you know the sisters were actually witches?”

  “The sisters all had special talents. Gifts. And those gifts were passed down from generation to generation. Some of the daughters have been telepathic. All of them are beautiful. Celia’s mother was rumored to have the ability to predict the weather. She was quite popular with the farmers.”

  It all sounded ridiculous to him, except for the fact they were all beautiful. If Angelina were any indication, the gene pool had to have been breathtaking.

  “What about Celia and Angelina? What are their gifts?”

  Shirley grinned. “I’m afraid that’s their story to tell.”

  Dylan frowned. He’d only been in Maple Ridge for a few days, but he’d learned very quickly that, while the townsfolk were more than happy to gossip about the witches of the past, none of them were eager to talk about Angelina and her mother.

  After leaving the library, Dylan found himself walking toward the music store. His body was drawn like a magnet to the place, but he couldn’t seem to control it. He wanted to be near her all the time. It was the strangest feeling, being this attracted to a woman he barely knew.

  But he was getting to know her.

  And he liked her.

  He could admit that much to himself. Yes, Angelina was gorgeous, but it was more than just her blue eyes and soft skin. He didn’t see it often—because he pissed her off on a daily basis—but he knew she was sweet and kind. She loved her mother, her music store, and her dog, and she loved them passionately.

  Was she a witch?

  He had no idea.

  But he couldn’t wait to find out.

  “Angelina likes to pretend she doesn’t believe in magic, but we’ve been friends a long time, and I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

  “What have you seen?” Dylan asked.

  Angelina shook her head and continued dusting the fiddles along the back wall. She’d given Dylan permission to talk to anyone in town who’d willingly answer his questions. In exchange, he’d promised to limit his research into her father’s death and Celia’s illness. The people of Maple Ridge—especially the older folks—told the stories better than Angelina ever could and would be able to give him the basic information he needed for his article. Foolishly, she’d assumed Dylan would seek out the old men down at the diner or maybe flirt with Ms. Henry down at the library.

  She should have known he’d want to interview the most curious—
and most talkative—one of all.

  “Well,” Maddie said as she hopped up on the counter, “did you know Angelina’s great-great-great grandmother was a witch doctor?”

  He nodded. “Abigail Rose. Her name keeps popping up in my research.”

  “The woman was a miracle worker,” Maddie replied, her voice full of reverence for her friend’s ancestor. “She delivered babies, healed the sick, cured diseases . . .”

  “From what I’ve read, though, most of the healing was done with herbs.”

  Angelina smiled. He really had been doing his research.

  “But it isn’t all done with herbs,” Maddie said quietly, and Angelina stiffened, because her best friend was about to reveal something very personal. “When we were in elementary school, four of us were playing basketball in the school gym. Billy Ross was dribbling toward the goal when he tripped over his own feet and broke his wrist. The kid was screaming in agony, and my best friend—my beautiful and gifted best friend—placed her hand on his wrist. Just her hand. The bone was healed, and Billy was back on his feet before the gym teacher could even make it across the court with a first-aid kit.”

  Angelina could feel Dylan’s eyes on her as she stepped off the ladder. Out of all the stories Maddie could’ve shared, did she really have to start with that one?

  “And there wasn’t an herb in sight,” she finished softly.

  Customers began to shuffle inside, and Maddie welcomed them to the store while Angelina continued dusting and rearranging in preparation for the busy weekend. The Maple Ridge Music Festival always brought potential shoppers to the music store. The weekend-long event featured local music and crafts and was the town’s only tourist attraction, bringing in visitors from miles around.

  Throughout the rest of the busy day, Angelina had the feeling that someone was staring at her.

  And to her great disappointment, it wasn’t always Dylan.

  The first time, it was Corey Ellis—a tall blonde who had just opened the new hardware store in town. A little later, it was Brad Tompkins, who pretended to be interested in one of her mandolins but really just wanted to ask her out to dinner. Angelina made up some excuse as to why that wasn’t possible, and when he left, Brad was without a date and the mandolin still hung on her wall.