Mountain Charm Read online

  Dylan looked between the two of them.

  “So . . . I guess what I’m asking is if any of this is true? Did Abigail Rose murder her husband? And did she and her sisters conjure some kind of love spell?”

  Celia cleared her throat and carefully chose her words.

  “Obviously, we can’t confirm or deny if Abigail killed her husband. Nobody can. And as far as a love spell, our ancestors were famous for casting many hexes and enchantments.”

  Dylan looked to Angelina. “Can you do that? Cast spells, I mean?”

  “I can. I just choose not to.”

  “But you have?”

  Angelina nodded slowly.

  “We all have,” Celia told him. “When I was nine, I accidentally cast a spell on a boy who’d pulled my hair on the school playground. He had warts for a month.”

  Everyone laughed, and Angelina breathed a sigh of relief as her mom effectively distracted the clever reporter from any discussion about the love charm.

  The rest of the week passed slowly, and visitors to the shop were few and far between. Online orders were keeping the store afloat, and Angelina was thankful she had taken the time to form strong relationships with her national vendors and musicians.

  While the slump in local sales left Angelina with too much time on her hands, it seemed Dylan was busier than ever. He was constantly interviewing people and doing research for the article, and whenever she would ask how it was coming along, he’d admit it was still a work in progress and then quickly change the subject. Angelina had a feeling he was dragging his feet, and when she mentioned this to her mother, Celia would smile her irritating, omniscient smile.

  Angelina was just getting ready to close another dismal day at the shop when the door chimed. Christine Williams walked in, wearing a pink halter-top and her mandatory skimpy denim shorts. She sashayed over to the counter, and Angelina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Who is she trying to impress?

  “Hello, Angelina.”

  “Hey, Christy. What can I do for you?”

  She leaned her elbows against the glass counter and smacked her gum. “I was actually looking for Dylan. Has he been around today?”

  Angelina clasped her hands tightly around the edge of the counter.

  “No, I haven’t seen him.”

  She frowned. “Well, do you have his number? I’d love to get in touch with him.”

  It was irrational, the spike of jealousy that shot through her veins.

  “I wouldn’t feel comfortable giving out his number without his permission,” Angelina replied. “If I see him, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”

  Christy tilted her head to the side.

  “Everyone in town thinks you’re dating. Is that true?”

  What could she say? We haven’t actually gone out on a date. He’s just the victim of the cruelest love spell in the history of magic?

  “No, we aren’t dating.” It was the truth, after all.

  Christy’s face brightened. “Really? So, you wouldn’t mind if I asked him out?”

  Angelina was sure she felt the blood drain from her face. The thought of Christy anywhere near Dylan filled her with rage, but what could she do? They had made no promises to each other.

  “No, Christine,” Angelina murmured, dying a little inside. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

  Dylan was regretting his visit to the offices of the Maple Ridge Gazette for two very distinct reasons.

  The archival collection was in shambles, and Christine Williams wouldn’t leave him the hell alone.

  He probably could have handled the first issue if there had been any rhyme or reason to their filing system. It wouldn’t have been the first time he had to wade through mounds of newspapers to find one nugget of information that might prove useful for a story, but finding anything worthwhile in this mess would take him weeks, and he just wasn’t that desperate for facts.

  But now, he was searching through slides on the microfiche machine, and Christy was getting on his nerves. She was sitting far too close, and she smelled far too much like cotton candy.

  Dylan hated cotton candy.

  He was a man, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t appreciate her tiny shorts and long legs, but he just wasn’t interested. She’d been overly helpful, and he’d been patiently polite, but his tolerance was about to snap. He was glad these were his last set of slides, although he was disappointed that he had wasted his time. There wasn’t a thing in the articles he didn’t already know.

  “See anything you like?” Christy asked, brushing her arm against his shoulder.

  He wasn’t an idiot. He knew her question was dripping with innuendo.

  “Actually, not a thing here interests me.”

  “You’re right. This place is boring,” she replied, clearly not getting the hint. “We should have dinner tonight.”

  Dylan had to hand it to her. She sure was persistent.

  “Sorry, Christy, but I’m busy tonight. I have a lot of research to do.”

  “You have to eat.”

  “I’m having dinner with Angelina and Celia, like I do most nights.”

  Christy’s eyes danced with mischief. “I had a nice chat with Angelina today.”

  Dylan felt an inexplicable pain in his chest at the mention of her name. He hadn’t spoken to her since last night. It was ridiculous that he missed her so much.

  “It’s funny,” Christy continued. “The whole town thinks the two of you are together, but Angelina certainly squashed that rumor today.”

  He stilled. “What do you mean?”

  “She told me the two of you aren’t dating. She even said she wouldn’t mind at all if the two of us had dinner tonight.”

  His hands balled into fists at his side.

  “Well, like I said. I’m busy, Christine.”

  He began to gather his belongings, desperate to be out of this room and away from the sickening smell of her perfume.

  “What about coffee tomorrow morning?”

  “Fine. Coffee. Whatever.”

  Once he was out in the parking lot—and away from Christy’s nauseating scent—he still felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. It was in that moment Dylan realized two things.

  He was in love with Angelina Clark.

  And she had absolutely no idea.

  “Dylan isn’t coming for dinner tonight,” Celia announced as Angelina made her way into the kitchen. Her mom was standing next to the stove, stirring a gigantic pot of chili. “He didn’t sound too happy on the phone. Did you two have another argument?”

  Angelina peeked over her mom’s shoulder. “That smells good. And no, I haven’t talked to him since last night. He’s been spending a lot of time at the library doing research for his article. That thing could be a full-length novel by the time he gets it finished.”

  Celia laughed. “I’m glad to hear the two of you are getting along. Things are progressing nicely?”

  This was her mother’s not-so-subtle way of asking if they’d kissed again.

  “Things are . . . confusing.”

  “Only because you’re making them so.”

  Angelina finished setting the table. It felt strange, needing just two glasses and bowls. Dylan rarely missed the chance for a home-cooked meal.

  Maybe he’s having dinner with Christine tonight.

  Her stomach lurched.

  “Angelina, are you okay? You don’t look well.”

  She took a deep breath and sat down at the table. “I’m fine.”

  Celia placed her palm against her daughter’s forehead. “Are you sure? You look a little pale.”

  “You don’t need to call a doctor,” Angelina said, smiling up at her mother. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

  Angelina scooped chili into their bowls while her mom grabbed the milk from the fridge.

  “Speaking of doctors, my oncologist called today. I have an appointment Thursday afternoon.”

  Angelina had been expecting this. It was time to see if t
he chemo had done its job.

  “Okay. I’ll make sure Maddie’s free to watch the shop.”

  They swiftly changed the subject, and Angelina finally had the chance to tell her mom about Maddie’s engagement and her move to Atlanta.

  “She’s absolutely right,” Celia said when Angelina mentioned her friend’s plans for a quickie wedding. “Life is too short to waste it making plans for a big ceremony. Why spend months making preparations for your life together when you could be living it?”

  This heavy conversation—not to mention her anxiety about Dylan’s whereabouts—had ruined Angelina’s appetite. Her mom, unfortunately, was keeping a watchful eye on the bowl, so Angelina forced herself to eat every bite.

  As the night progressed, Angelina had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Dylan hadn’t called. He hadn’t even sent a text, and that was unusual. Either he had gotten lost in his research, or he was with a girl who was flirty, sexy, and far more experienced than Angelina could ever hope to be.

  I never should have told him I’m a virgin.

  Angelina wasn’t innocent by any stretch of the imagination, but technically, she was still pure as the driven snow. Adam had tried his best to convince her otherwise, but she had been adamant about waiting until she turned twenty-one, just in case the spell proved to be legit. Of course, that was before her father’s illness—back when she had been young and foolish and waiting for her soul mate to arrive. If their heated kisses on the ball court and their make-out session by the pond were any indication, Dylan was a passionate and loving man.

  And Angelina had offered him on a silver platter to the biggest flirt in town.

  It was nearly dawn by the time she drifted off to sleep. Her mind was still restless, conjuring nightmares filled with Christine’s irritating laugh and Dylan’s sweet smile.

  “What did you do?”

  “I’ve had exactly one hour of sleep. I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little more specific,” Angelina muttered as she dusted the shelves.

  Maddie crossed her arms. “I just saw Dylan at the coffee shop. He had two drinks in his hand, so I assumed one was for you. When I told him you preferred tea, he mumbled something and headed straight toward a back booth. Do you know who was sitting at the table with him?”

  Angelina shrugged casually.

  “What did you do, Angelina?”

  She sighed. “Christy asked if Dylan and I were dating.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “I said we aren’t, which is true, and he obviously agrees.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it. The man looked as if he’d rather be getting a root canal than having coffee with her.”

  Angelina couldn’t deny she was impressed. Christy sure moved fast. They’d probably had dinner, too. Maybe Dylan had even spent the night.

  “You look nauseous,” Maddie mumbled.

  At her friend’s insistence, Angelina headed home to take a nap. Her mom was spending the day in town with Mr. Murray, so she had the house all to herself. She decided to take a warm bath, hoping the water would soothe her tired muscles and relax her mind.

  It didn’t.

  Feeling more awake after the bath, she decided to take her dog for a walk. Cash led her straight to the pond, and it was only when her eyes focused on the water did she understand why.

  Of course he was there, sitting on the grass.

  Dylan turned his head when he heard Cash’s enthusiastic bark. Her dog deserted her, rushing toward Dylan and pouncing excitedly on his friend’s back. By the time Angelina arrived at the pond, Cash was already splashing in the water.

  “Hey,” she said softly, sitting down next to him.

  “Hey.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Dylan tossed a rock across the water, causing ripples to form along the surface. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and I don’t know why I’m here.”

  “It’s okay that you’re here. You’re welcome, anytime.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” With a sigh, he turned toward her. “You need to know I’ve had zero sleep, so my verbal filter is going to be nonexistent today.”

  “I was up all night, too.”

  “Thinking about us?”

  Angelina nodded.

  Dylan took a deep breath. “Maybe I’m going insane. It wouldn’t surprise me. I’ve never felt like this. My attraction to you is so confusing, and I have no idea what you’re thinking. I don’t know how you feel, and maybe you don’t feel anything, but you kiss me like you feel something, and I—”

  “I feel something.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why?”

  Angelina swallowed nervously. “Why what?”

  “Why did you tell Christy Williams that you didn’t mind if she asked me out?”

  The question hung in the air while she struggled to find the words.

  “You don’t belong to me, Dylan.”

  He laughed quietly and looked down, lacing his fingers with hers.

  “You’re wrong. You have no idea how much I belong to you.”

  Angelina closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over her.

  “Everything about you fascinates me, Angelina. The way your hand fits in mine. Your soft giggle when something is truly funny. Your fingers when you play your guitar. The love you have for your dog. The way you worry about your mother, even though you try to hide it. Your lips. They taste like cinnamon. Did you know that?”

  A stunned Angelina shook her head.

  “The list is endless, and I know it makes me sound deranged, but that’s how I feel.” Dylan reached over, smoothing a strand of hair away from her face. “Yesterday, something became very clear to me.”

  “What was that?”

  “You have absolutely no idea of the hold you have on my heart.”

  It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her.

  “You weren’t tempted by Christy? Not even a little?”

  He looked confused. “Why would I be tempted by her?”

  “Because she’s pretty.”

  “She’s not you.”

  “She’s—”

  “Angelina, stop.” He gently placed his hands on each side of her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I don’t care what she is. She’s not you.”

  Dylan kissed her tenderly, and in that moment, her heart ached with the realization that she couldn’t deny it any longer.

  She was spellbound.

  And so was he.

  With that acceptance came a crushing wave of sadness, because she wanted, so much, for this to be real. Dylan’s emotions were ruled by the spell, and while she loved the taste of his lips and the warmth of his body as he lowered her down onto the grass, it was impossible to let herself be swept away by the magic of it all.

  Because that’s all it was.

  Magic.

  She gazed up at him, caressing his cheek and loving the feel of his stubble against her palm.

  “Angelina, why are you fighting this?”

  “Because it’s not real.”

  “It feels very real to me.”

  “I know.”

  Even she could hear the sadness in her voice, and it was enough to make him roll over onto his back. Breathing harshly, he covered his eyes with his arm.

  “Angelina, you’re killing me.”

  She sat up, hugging her knees close to her chest. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry about Christine, and I’m sorry you’re feeling the way you feel, and I’m sorry it’s not real.”

  Sighing heavily, Dylan sat up beside her. Goosebumps erupted on her skin as he softly trailed his fingers across her arm.

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  She had to make him understand, and the only way to do that was to tell him the truth.

  “Do you remember what you found in your research? About Abigail and the love charm?”

  He nodded.

>   “When I was growing up, I couldn’t wait until I turned thirteen, because that’s the age when the daughter is allowed to cast her own spell. She wishes for happiness, beauty, gifts, and intelligence. And she wishes for her soul mate—a man who will be kind and loving and devoted, until death do them part. Then the daughter blows out the candle, and she waits.”

  She knew it sounded completely ridiculous.

  Dylan blinked rapidly. “She waits?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long does she wait?”

  “Until she turns twenty-one. I know it sounds crazy, but as a little girl, it was the ultimate fairy tale, and I believed it with my whole heart. Then I grew up, and my supposedly gifted hands weren’t magical enough to heal my father. The day they laid him in the ground was the day I buried my faith in magic.”

  Her shaking voice trailed off as she waited for Dylan to connect the dots. It didn’t take him long.

  “The day I arrived in Maple Ridge was your twenty-first birthday.”

  “Yes.”

  “You hated me on sight.”

  “Hate’s a little strong . . .”

  “You pointed a gun at me!”

  “It wasn’t loaded!”

  Dylan smirked, and they both laughed. He moved closer, sliding his hand along the nape of her neck. His touch was soft and soothing, and she felt her body finally begin to relax.

  “I want to know more about this spell,” Dylan murmured.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, for starters, how does it affect the man?”

  Angelina sighed. “Well, once they meet, the man is completely infatuated. The attraction is immediate, and if my parents are any indication, it’s eternal. The guy is consumed with thoughts of her—to the point of obsession. In his eyes, she’s perfect, and no one else comes close to comparing to her . . . or so I’m told.”

  Dylan couldn’t deny he was grateful to have the insanity explained. He wasn’t losing his mind after all. There was a logical explanation, even if the logic was shrouded in the supernatural.

  “That’s . . . amazingly accurate.”