Mountain Charm Page 6

  “Do you seriously think I give a shit about my article right now?”

  Angelina shrugged and stared at her hands in her lap. “I can’t read your mind, Dylan. I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

  He sighed and leaned back against the bench as he stared out at the festival. They grew quiet, and she took the opportunity to study his profile. He looked tortured and frustrated—two emotions she understood so well.

  What she didn’t understand was why he felt that way.

  “His name is Adam McDonald,” Angelina said. “He’s my ex-boyfriend who now lives in Asheville.”

  “I assume it didn’t end well.”

  “No, it didn’t. He wanted to control . . . everything. My every decision. My every thought. My every move. He was manipulative and overbearing, and when I finally stood up for myself, he hit me.”

  Dylan eyes flashed with anger. “He hit you?”

  “Just once, but yes.”

  He jumped to his feet and glanced down the street, and she knew, instinctively, who he was looking for.

  “Please, don’t. It was a long time ago, and I’m fine.”

  He exhaled a noisy breath and turned toward her.

  “Do you really want to know what I’m thinking, Angelina?”

  Do I?

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I’m thinking that I want to beat the hell out of him for touching you.”

  Dylan’s cell phone rang, and he excused himself to take the call. As he walked away, Angelina struggled to slow her racing heart.

  “They look happy.”

  Celia nodded toward the street where Maddie and her boyfriend were dancing along to the bluegrass music that echoed from the stage. Nick had arrived late in the afternoon, just as he’d promised, and the two had been inseparable ever since.

  “He’ll be home for two weeks,” Angelina said.

  Celia hummed softly and sipped her lemonade while they sat on the bench outside the store. It was getting late, and Angelina knew her mom was tired from the day. She’d always loved the festival and couldn’t bear to miss it, but things were winding down, and the vendors were beginning to close in anticipation of the concert.

  “Dylan offered to take you home. If you’re ready, I’ll send him a text.”

  “Where is he?”

  Laughing, Angelina pointed toward the booth where the football team was selling funnel cakes. “He’s eaten three. I think he’s in love.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  She gave her daughter a pointed look, and Angelina knew they weren’t talking about funnel cakes anymore.

  “I think the heat has made you a little delusional.”

  “Angelina, you’re fighting fate. I heard about the incident over at the candle booth. Dylan is such a gentleman, coming to your rescue like that. Mrs. Evans said he was quite protective.”

  “Yes, and I don’t understand why.”

  Celia offered her a weary smile. “If only you could see.”

  Angelina swallowed nervously. “You’ve . . . seen something?

  “Yes, but I’m sure it’s just another one of my delusions,” she said, patting her daughter’s hand. “You wouldn’t be interested.”

  Angelina sighed heavily. How can a mother be so infuriating?

  Celia grinned and rose to her feet. “David has offered to drive me home, so don’t bother texting Dylan. It’s going to be a beautiful night, and I don’t want either of you missing the concert.”

  “David Murray?”

  “Yes.”

  Angelina had never asked her mom about her dinner date on the night of the storm, but connecting those dots was easy now as she watched her stroll over to Mr. Murray’s picnic table. She looped her arm through his, and the two of them walked toward his car. They talked and laughed, and while it was odd seeing her mom smile at a man who wasn’t her father, Angelina couldn’t ignore the peaceful expression on her mother’s face.

  In that moment, a very selfish part of Angelina was envious of her mom.

  Angelina had just closed the shop and stepped back outside when she spotted Emma Riley sitting on the bench.

  “Hey, Emma.”

  The eight-year-old smiled up at her. She looked adorable in her blonde braids and pink overalls.

  “Hi, Angelina. I have a message for you.”

  “Oh?”

  She nodded. “I get ten dollars just for asking. I get twenty dollars if you say yes. You really need to say yes, because I’m saving my allowance for a new bike.”

  Angelina laughed, and the little girl leapt up from the bench, taking her by the hand and leading her toward the crowd. People lined the street, dancing the electric slide to a cover of an old George Strait song. Angelina waved to Nick and Maddie as Emma pulled her through the dancers.

  Suddenly, Emma stopped in her tracks and pointed toward one of the picnic tables.

  “Will you dance with him?”

  Looking up, Angelina found Dylan smiling sheepishly at her from his place on top of the table.

  The girl tugged her hand. “Will you?”

  Grinning, Angelina leaned down and whispered in her ear.

  “Go tell him he owes you twenty bucks.”

  Emma giggled and raced to Dylan’s side, and he promptly placed some cash in her hand. The little girl waved at him and raced toward her mother as Dylan made his way through the crowd. The melodic strains of a mandolin filled the air as he took Angelina by the hand and pulled her close.

  Naturally, the band chose that moment to play a slow song.

  “Did you bribe the band, too?” Angelina asked teasingly.

  “Maybe.”

  “Hmm. This is an expensive dance.”

  His arms tightened around her.

  “It’s worth every penny, Angelina.”

  They swayed to the music, and Angelina tried to ignore how good it felt to be held by someone whose touch was gentle and sweet. Throughout the song, Dylan held her a little tighter, a little closer, but it wasn’t possessive or domineering. He held her hand close to his chest, and when the song transitioned into something a little more upbeat, their rhythm remained the same.

  “Have I ever told you how pretty you are?”

  Too dazed to answer, Angelina simply nodded. Dylan brushed his forehead against hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “I was so jealous today,” he admitted.

  “Why?”

  “Those two guys in your shop . . . and then Adam. You just have a long string of admirers.”

  Angelina felt her face flush with embarrassment. “I don’t have admirers.”

  “You do. You may not realize it—or want to admit it—but you do.”

  Even if she did acknowledge it, she knew it wasn’t something she, or they, could really control. It was that stupid, manipulative spell.

  That wasn’t something Angelina could explain to him.

  “There’s no reason to be jealous, Dylan.”

  “There isn’t?”

  “You’re the only one I’ve said yes to.”

  Their eyes remained locked as they danced, and when his gaze flickered to her mouth, she felt her heartbeat quicken.

  “Why did you say yes to me?” His voice was low and seductive, and it made Angelina melt against him.

  “Because Emma Riley needed the cash.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  Angelina’s heart pounded faster when she realized the answer was no. The truth was she hadn’t thought twice about dancing with him. Dylan made her feel comfortable and safe, which were two things she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  “No, that’s not the only reason.”

  Dylan stroked her cheek, his eyes scorching with need.

  “I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I want to kiss you.”

  She was so torn. Was he simply spellbound and any attraction he felt nothing more than the curse? And if so, was it fair to kiss him?

  Dylan lowered his head, and her head
screamed, warning her that this was dangerous on so many levels.

  But her heart refused to listen.

  Dylan tenderly brushed his lips against hers, and for the first time in her life, she felt it—that unmistakable rush of excitement that was supposed to encompass a first kiss. It was like a jolt of energy, crackling and electric as it flowed through her veins. With a deep groan, Dylan parted his lips, kissing her a little harder. Angelina threaded her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer and wishing they were anywhere but there, and that she was just any girl kissing a cute guy in the middle of a crowded street.

  But she wasn’t just any girl, and it was that sobering thought that brought her back to reality.

  They were both breathless when they finally pulled away.

  “That was just as perfect as I imagined it would be.”

  Angelina lifted her eyes toward his. “You’ve imagined it?”

  “Since the moment we met.”

  Too overwhelmed to respond, she bowed her head and fought to keep her tears at bay.

  “Hey,” he said gently, placing his finger beneath her chin and tilting her face toward his. “What’s wrong?”

  With his soft brown eyes staring down into hers, Angelina struggled to find the words.

  Everything’s wrong.

  But she didn’t say it.

  Instead, she just smiled and let him wrap her in his arms. Dylan pulled her close to his chest as they continued to dance beneath the stars.

  Dylan stared at the ceiling fan spinning above his head. It was making him a little dizzy, which was perfect, because he’d felt that way ever since that dance.

  And that kiss.

  Never had a kiss affected him so much. He’d dated plenty—and he’d kissed them all at least once—but this was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. She’d tasted like cinnamon, and he didn’t know if that was just the natural taste of her lips or if she’d had a sweet dessert at one of the booths.

  Either way, he was addicted.

  His mind and body were too restless to sleep, so he quickly got dressed and decided to go for a drive.

  The woman was driving him insane. He couldn’t even concentrate on his article, and Steve, his editor, was breathing down his neck, asking to take a look at his notes so far. Most of it wouldn’t make sense, and he knew he’d have to spend some time arranging them into some kind of coherent mess to email to the boss.

  Dylan wasn’t paying attention to the road until the highway suddenly transformed into gravel. Images of dueling banjos and crazy hillbillies flashed through his mind as he scanned the area, and he was just about to turn around when he came upon a wooden building with neon signs flashing in the windows.

  It was a bar, tucked deep in the woods.

  Dylan grinned.

  Alcohol was exactly what he needed.

  The bar was the biggest redneck tavern he’d ever seen in his life, but the music was loud and the beer was cheap.

  Which would explain his present state of intoxication.

  The bartender offered him another bottle, but Dylan declined. He needed to sober up if he had any chance of driving home tonight.

  “You’re that reporter from Nashville, aren’t you? Doing the story on Angelina Clark and her mom.”

  Dylan’s body shivered at the mention of her name, and he cursed under his breath. Escaping her, even in a dump like this, was impossible.

  “They’re good people,” the bartender said.

  Dylan couldn’t remember his name. Mel? Max? It was an M, definitely.

  “Yes, they are.”

  “Angelina’s a sweetheart,” the man continued. “That ex of hers sure treated her badly.”

  Dylan nodded. “He better pray I never see him again, because if I do, I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

  The bartender grinned and pointed toward the pool tables. “Is that a promise?”

  Dylan couldn’t believe his eyes. Standing there, laughing and drinking with his buddies, was Adam McDonald.

  They spotted each other at the same time, and Adam smirked. He said something to his friends and dropped his pool stick before heading to the bar.

  “You look like you could use another,” Adam said, his voice slurring a little as he waved to the bartender. He slapped Dylan on the shoulder. “Look, man, I’m going to give you a little advice. If you’re waiting to get into Angelina’s pants, don’t bother, because you’ll be waiting a long time.”

  Dylan’s entire body bristled at the mention of her name on the bastard’s lips. He wasn’t so drunk that he didn’t take a moment to consider the consequences of his actions.

  This was a redneck bar, and it was quite possible he’d get his ass kicked.

  Then he thought of Angelina’s sweet face, her pretty eyes, and her cinnamon kiss.

  Worth it.

  The screen door gently closed as Celia made her way out onto the porch.

  “Good morning, Angelina. You’re up early.”

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  She patted Cash’s head as he rested near the rocker. They’d already taken their morning walk to the pond. The morning was cool, a sure sign that fall was on the way.

  “I made you some tea.”

  “Thanks,” she said, taking the mug. “Do I smell peppermint?”

  Celia sat down in her rocking chair. “A little. I had a feeling you might need something to relax you this morning. Call it a mother’s intuition.”

  “Right. You knew exactly what was going to happen last night, didn’t you?”

  “What happened?”

  Angelina sighed deeply and drank her tea.

  “You know my visions aren’t synchronized to a clock. I never know when something’s going to happen.”

  “But you knew we’d kiss, didn’t you?”

  Celia’s face transformed into a beautiful smile.

  “Yes, but to be fair, I don’t think my psychic powers were needed to make that prediction. Sparks flew from the moment you two met. Surely you aren’t surprised.”

  The kiss itself wasn’t surprising. It was her unexpected reaction to it that was throwing Angelina for a loop.

  “What if it’s not real?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You believe in that stupid curse, right?” Angelina asked, and her mom nodded. “So, what if whatever we think we’re feeling is just the spell weaving its magic on the two of us? What if it’s bogus?”

  Celia’s face grew thoughtful. “Do you think my marriage to your father was bogus?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Our relationship started just like this,” she said, smiling at the memory. “I cast the spell when I was thirteen, just like you. Your father arrived when I was twenty-one. Granted, I didn’t try to shoot him, but still, I’d like to think it was love at first sight for both of us.”

  Angelina groaned. “Would you please not joke about this? I’m so confused. How can I trust how he feels? Or how I feel?”

  Celia tilted her head in her daughter’s direction. “That must have been some kiss.”

  You have no idea.

  “I struggled with the same insecurities when I met your father. Did he really care for me, or was it just the spell? Could I trust his emotions? Could I trust mine?”

  “Did you come to any conclusions?”

  “There’s something you’re forgetting, Angelina, and it’s the same thing I failed to remember until your grandmother pointed it out to me.”

  “Which is?”

  “No one has cast a spell on you.”

  Angelina frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “My sweet daughter, it means that whatever you are feeling has absolutely nothing to do with magic—not in the traditional sense, anyhow.”

  “I don’t know what I’m feeling. Everything is so confusing, and now I’m getting all this attention from guys in town that I don’t even want. All because of some ridiculous spell? I’m suddenly a magnet for men just because I turned twenty-one? How nuts
is that?”

  Her mom smiled. “You’re a beautiful young woman. Why wouldn’t they be attracted?”

  “But why now?”

  Celia laughed. “Sweetheart, I hate to break the news to you, but you’ve always turned heads. You’re just noticing now, that’s all.”

  The phone rang, and Celia headed inside. Cash raced behind her, leaving Angelina alone in her confusion. Closing her eyes, she traced her fingertip along her lips, recalling the heat of Dylan’s kiss and how the memory of it kept her awake all night long.

  No one has cast a spell on you.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” she whispered.

  Minutes later, a laughing Celia reappeared on the porch. Angelina gave her a strange look as her mom placed a set of car keys into her hand.

  “Am I going somewhere?”

  “To the sheriff’s department. Take your checkbook.”

  “Why would I need my checkbook?”

  Celia was trying to stifle her laughter.

  “For Dylan’s bail.”

  “You are unbelievable, do you know that?”

  Celia had warned her daughter to keep her temper in check, but the entire situation was just too ridiculous. Who gets into a drunken brawl with a complete stranger?

  Dylan peered at the speedometer. “You’re going to get a ticket, Angelina.”

  “Now you’re worried about breaking the law?”

  He groaned and closed his eyes.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you have a headache? Am I too loud?”

  “I begged Celia to pick me up,” he muttered under his breath. “Begged her.”

  “Why should my ailing mother have to come bail your sorry ass out of jail? What were you doing at Max’s bar, anyway?”

  Dylan mumbled something, but she ignored him and drove faster toward the motel. Angelina was furious. She’d spent her night tossing and turning because of his stupid kiss while he was out at some backwoods bar with God knows who, doing God knows what.

  “Angelina, you’re doing seventy in a forty-five.”

  “Stop criticizing my driving!”

  But she did ease her foot off the pedal. Despite her aggravation, she didn’t have a death wish.

  “I’m in room fifteen,” Dylan said as they turned into the parking lot.