Lucky Magic Page 7

  I shook my head in confusion, then I realized what he meant. “Oh—you mean a wish.” I grinned. Leave it to Jackson to make sure some poor coffee shop worker didn’t get blamed for a short in the till. “You can, but are you sure that’s how you want to use a wish?”

  “It seems to fit your no maiming, no death, no time-travel requirements. At least, I think it does.” I nodded, and his bright blue gaze met mine. “You deserve a hot chocolate.”

  I grinned at him. “Okay. Go for it.”

  He nodded and then, with a gravitas that was in direct conflict with his actual words, said, “I wish for a hot chocolate.”

  And since I was right next him, I could feel the familiar zing of my own magic as it released its grip on him. I wasn’t about to let wish number two slip undirected through my fingers, so I grabbed hold of it just long enough to whisper a few encouraging words. At least I’d know some poor ten-year-old kid at the local coffee shop wasn’t having his favorite treat stolen from under his nose.

  The five disappeared and a small hot chocolate appeared, perched precariously on the car’s dash. I grabbed it before it could fall. “Thank you.”

  Jackson turned the air conditioning up a notch. “You’re very welcome.”

  Maybe hot chocolate didn’t make everything better. Maybe it wasn’t the most practical choice in the middle of the summer. But after the first sip, I’d swear it was the best hot chocolate I’d ever had.

  After the second sip, I had a flash of brilliance. It was so simple, so perfect. I pulled out my phone and started tapping out a message. It was also underhanded, which was the only reason it hadn’t occurred to me before now.

  “What are you doing? You look entirely too pleased with yourself.”

  I punched send and chuckled. It might have come out like a gleeful cackle, but that was a little tacky, so I was going with chuckle. “Take that, you crotchety old fart.” I looked up at Jackson, my eyes wide with innocence. “I have no idea what you mean.”

  Jackson pulled out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of our street. “Are you going to tell me what you’ve done? And, more importantly, do I need to use my last wish to undo it?”

  “What? No!” I whipped my head around, saw that there wasn’t a wish sitting on the tip of his tongue, and frowned. “Altering time is bad. Very bad. Besides, I didn’t do anything too terrible.”

  “You do remember that you don’t fib well, right?”

  “Right. Well, all I did was send a little text…to my mom.”

  “And why would sending your mother a text message give you a case of the giggles?”

  “She’s the only person Dad’s afraid of. And the only person who wants to see me date even more than he does. She’s going to crucify him.” The self-satisfied smile I’d assumed faded as I realized what I’d said. Or, more importantly, to whom I’d said it. “Not that, uh, you know, we— And you’re, you know, you’re great—”

  “Would you?” His calm question cut off my blathering attempt at an explanation—thankfully.

  Then I realized I had no idea what he was asking. “Sorry, what?”

  “Would you go out on a date with me?”

  “Um, are you asking?”

  “I’m absolutely asking. Will you go out on a date with me?”

  Whoa. What to say?

  Yes meant the inevitable death of a valuable friendship—but maybe the possibility of more.

  No meant awkwardness without end, which would also damage our friendship—and I would always wonder, What if?

  What was I thinking? I’d been secretly crushing on Jackson since he saved me from being locked out of my house. That had been ages and ages ago.

  Before I could answer, the car filled with purple smoke.

  There was so much smoke that Jackson couldn’t see to drive. As he pulled into the nearest parking lot, I caught the vague outline of a person in the back seat. He or she must have popped into the car under the cover of the smoke. I couldn’t see who it was through the purple haze, but I had a solid suspicion.

  Jackson coughed and rolled down a window. Once a little smoke had cleared, he checked the rearview mirror. “Baba Yaga. It’s been a while.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: In Which the Purple Smoke Clears

  Jackson had called Baba Yaga’s clothes and makeup dated. He’d been kind. Once the smoke cleared, her neon outfit blinded me. I blinked, and then again—because no one would choose to dress like that.

  But after three blinks, the lime-green tank top didn’t get any less lime, and the bright pink off-the-shoulder tee was just as fluorescent. I averted my gaze so that I was looking just to the right of Baba Yaga’s mostly bare shoulder.

  “I’m here for a progress report,” Baba Yaga said crisply. She was surprisingly businesslike…for a woman with ratted hair.

  Ten years of Jackson’s sentence had passed. If he’d served it fully, where did that leave me, the friend from his very mortal life? My big crush was about to disappear into the sunset. And that sucked on so many levels.

  But my feelings were a secondary consideration. I had a strong feeling Baba Yaga was about to screw my guy over. “What exactly are you going to do to him?”

  “Livy.” Jackson’s voice held a note of warning. He wasn’t looking at me, but at Baba Yaga. Why then did I feel like all of his focus was on me?

  I ignored Jackson’s warning—because important things were afoot. He was about to get screwed for the second time in ten years. “What happens to him next?”

  “That,” Baba Yaga said, “is an excellent question.”

  Jackson turned away from the supreme leader of the witching and warlocking community like she hadn’t said a word. He stared through the windshield but didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. Then he got out of the car. Just like that. Without a word.

  If anything could deflate some tension, it might be the guy you’re trying to stand up for walking out of the room. Car. Whatever.

  I looked over my shoulder. “Um, so hi. I’m Olivia Kelly.”

  “I know who you are.”

  Right. She would, wouldn’t she? She’d know who I was, what I was…whose child I was. Just nifty. Thanks a lot, Dad.

  “He has five minutes to decide.” Her cryptic statement hung in the air between us.

  I felt like an idiot—but this was important, so I sucked it up. “I’m sorry, but what does he have five minutes to decide?”

  “What he wants.” Baba Yaga tapped her Swatch. “Four and a half.”

  I dithered between staying in the car and leaving, but what was I gonna do? Demand more time? For some question I hadn’t heard her ask? From the supreme witchy leader of Jackson’s world?

  Uh, no. I got out of the car.

  Jackson looked thoughtful, but not nearly as stressed out as I was. Crazy witch lady in car, supremely powerful witch lady, and I didn’t have a clue what she wanted from Jackson. Of course I was stressed out.

  Jackson turned slowly. “You remember how we met?”

  He wanted to talk about our past now? Forget explaining what was happening…because why did I need to be in the loop? “Sure. We had the same mail pick-up schedule.”

  “No. That’s how we became friends. We met at the block party a few months before that.”

  One of our old neighbors—Gary—used to throw block parties regularly. Pot luck, BYOB, music…then Gary moved away and no one else could be bothered. I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s right.”

  “Oh, I know it is. We met, you made an impression, I didn’t.”

  I cocked my head and held back a smile. “No, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t have forgotten meeting you.”

  “That’s my point: you did. So I lightly stalked you to find out when you picked up your mail.”

  I choked back a laugh. “You’re kidding.” Then I realized exactly what he meant. He’d made a very specific effort to get to know me. “Wait, are you saying you were, you know…”

  He raised his eye
brows. “Interested? In you? Yes.” He shook his head, but he was smiling. “Why is that so surprising?”

  As my ears tingled, I looked over my shoulder. Baba Yaga appeared to texting and unaware of our conversation.

  “She’s not paying attention.” Jackson stepped closer.

  “Well, she only gave you five minutes to decide what you want to do. And I think it’s getting close to that.” Although I couldn’t see any sign that she was losing interest in her phone.

  “You weren’t immediately interested, and when I finally got your attention, you turned out to be nice. Really nice.”

  “Thanks…I think?” I wasn’t sure what exactly was happening, but being told I was really nice shouldn’t have made me feel all warm and squishy. I mean…nice? That was the best he could do? But then I remembered the lack of zing. “I don’t get it. You weren’t interested.”

  “Of course I was.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You were human.”

  “But I’m not.” I felt like we were having two different conversations. He was talking in a circle, and I didn’t know where he was going.

  “But I thought you were. And the more I got to know and like you, the more of an issue that became.”

  “Oh. Oh.” Mortals and the magical were a rough mix romantically. Some said it didn’t work on a basic level; others said it was hard. I thought that was garbage perpetuated by people like my dad. Either way… “You’re not human, and I’m not human—so why are we talking about this?”

  And how had I been crushing on a man who’d been into me for years without having any clue? How was that possible? And how could I keep Annabeth from ever finding out?

  He reached down and twined my hand with his, then he pulled me close. He wrapped his arms around me—and then I felt it: his last wish zipping away.

  I couldn’t nudge it in the right direction, because I didn’t have a clue what he’d wished. I tensed, waiting for some nasty echo of mischievous magic.

  A few seconds ticked by and nothing seemed to holler chaos from the far edges of the universe. Then I realized my cheek was pressed against his chest, his muscular arms wrapped around my body, and thoughts of death, dismemberment, and the butterfly effect were washed from my mind.

  I snuggled into his chest. “Do I want to know what you just wished for?”

  “More time with you, to decide what I want.”

  I stiffened.

  His arms tightened around me and then his lips grazed my jaw. “Oh, I want you.”

  Nuzzling into his chest, I asked, “Then what’s the issue?”

  “My magic.”

  For a guy I’d known and considered a friend for years, a man who was holding me in his arms like he didn’t want to let go, I really didn’t get him. I leaned back and looked into his bright, heavenly blue eyes. “Is it possible you’re being an absolute idiot right now?”

  He grinned and said, “I hope so.” But the underlying worry was still there.

  “You better spill. Baba Yaga isn’t going to wait forever.”

  “We have time, remember?”

  I slid my hands up his neck and then into the hair at the nape of his neck. His breath hitched and I could feel his chest expand. I pulled his head down, and his lips met mine.

  As our lips touched and our breaths mingled, I melted. When Jackson eventually lifted his head, I realized he was literally holding me upright. I thought weak-kneed was just an expression. I took a breath and steadied myself—and saw that Jackson was grinning at me.

  Great. His ego was going to balloon into unreasonable proportions.

  I cleared my throat. Grasping his shoulders, I concentrated on feeling my legs and making sure they could hold me upright. Then I put a hand on his chest…a mistake. I could feel my hand slide across the hills and valleys of his pecs and lower. “Ugh, you’re a menace.” I yanked my hand away and stepped back.

  “If you say so.” He stared back at me with just a glint of humor in his eyes. At least he had the sense not to laugh. Or disagree.

  He may have bought some time with his wish, but Baba Yaga wouldn’t wait in my car forever. I had to figure out what the issue was. What exactly did Jackson want, and why was that creating such a dilemma for him? “Do you want your magic back?”

  “Of course. It’s part of who I am, a part I learned to live without and one I haven’t missed, but still a part of me.” Jackson looked at me.

  I waited for a woman with a yoga mat to pass by us. I hadn’t noticed, but we’d parked in the lot for a yoga studio. I shook my head and, after the yoga lady had stopped staring and climbed into her car, said, “But?”

  “I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t like that guy. I don’t like that guy.”

  I squinted, stepped back, and said, “You’re kidding.”

  And for the first time since this conversation had started, he looked annoyed. “I’m not kidding. With magic, I was that warlock. You know the kind.”

  “And you think that everything you are, the person you’ve become, will disappear in the face of a little magic. That once Baba Yaga returns your magic, you’ll be the man you were before.”

  “Aren’t you thinking it?”

  “Of course not. And I don’t know why you would.” He really didn’t see it. He didn’t see himself as he was, but as the man he’d been. And I had serious doubts as to whether that guy had been as bad as Jackson claimed. “Before I go any further, I want you to know that I trust you. I trust you to be true to yourself, even if I didn’t have proof.” I wrinkled my nose at him. “But I have proof.”

  He shook his head. “I have no clue what you mean.”

  For a clever guy, he was being horribly obtuse. “Hot chocolate? Our stolen chat?” But he just shook his head. “Jackson. Your three wishes. One accidental and two…” I didn’t know how to describe them. Sweet? Kind? Thoughtful? “You had magic at your fingertips, and look how you chose to use it.”

  He frowned and then opened his mouth. Probably to object. But I’d never know, because I kissed him. Unlike our last kiss, this one involved tangling tongues, cheekily roaming hands (mine), and a deep-throated chuckle (his), which was finally interrupted by a cleared throat.

  “Ahem. Hello?” Baba Yaga called from the rolled-down window of my car. She did not look pleased. “I do have other appointments today.” She tapped her Swatch.

  Uh-oh. I disengaged reluctantly from Jackson, but he held on to my hand.

  Baba Yaga leveled Jackson with a stare. “You’ve decided?”

  “He has.” The words tumbled out of my mouth in my rush to speak before Jackson said something idiotic.

  Baba Yaga lifted one eyebrow. “First you lock me in a car with a leprechaun wish, then your mate gets cheeky. You’re a match made in heaven.”

  “Thank you.” Two simple words—but he said them like he’d never meant anything more.

  “Humph. We won’t speak of this again.” She narrowed her eyes and, looking as deadly as a neon-attired witch could, shifted her gaze to me. “Not to anyone.”

  I swallowed my grin and nodded.

  “My work here is done.” She snapped her fingers and disappeared in a puff of purplish smoke.

  EPILOGUE

  Six Months Later

  “Don’t muck this up.” A woman’s voice startled him, and he jerked his head up to find…Baba Yaga.

  Jackson stepped back into his bathroom, almost tripping over the bath mat. Who else would appear in his house, just as he was stepping out of the shower? He eyed her suspiciously. The last time she’d appeared in his home, he’d been equally wet, surprised, and confused.

  And she’d turned his life upside down. In a good way, but still…today was too important to trust that she wasn’t here to create havoc.

  She waited impatiently amidst the sparkling lights and purple smoke.

  He tied the towel around his waist tighter. Livy would kick his butt if he flashed any woman besides her. And she’d find out; the woman was a truth magnet. “What can I do for yo
u, Baba Yaga?”

  “Consider this a final evaluation before your parole ends.”

  Since he’d had no idea he was on parole, he didn’t comment.

  She tapped the toe of her high-top aerobics shoe. “The ring?”

  So it was no coincidence Baba Yaga had shown up today. “What about it?”

  “I’d like to see it. Chop-chop.”

  Jackson clutched his towel and retrieved the ring from his nightstand.

  Baba Yaga was shaking her head when he turned around with the small velvet box.

  “What?” he asked, trying to keep the uncertainty from his voice. A guy was allowed to be sensitive about a few things, and his future wife’s engagement ring was one of them.

  “Your nightstand?”

  The ring had been in his safe for the last three months. “Give me a break. I just moved it last night.”

  She didn’t reply, waved her fingerless-lace-gloved hand for him to hurry.

  Careful not to get too close, he opened the box and showed her the ring inside.

  A feline smile stretched across her face. “That will do.”

  A knot in his stomach loosened at her words. He’d opted for a less traditional sapphire, because Livy didn’t like diamonds. She’d never said why, and he hadn’t wanted to press and ruin the surprise. So he’d just made a note: no diamonds. He knew she liked the style, but the stone had been a bit of a gamble.

  In a brisk tone, Baba Yaga asked, “And what are you wearing?”

  He wanted to ask how this related to his parole—but pissing off the supreme witch of all witches on the day he planned to ask the love of his life to marry him didn’t seem like a smart move. So he bit his tongue and retrieved his tux.

  She snapped her fingers and his towel disappeared, to be replaced by his tux. If he hadn’t been distracted by the “why” of her visit, he might have been annoyed. At least she’d left the minions at home, so he missed out on flashing them his junk. That was something to be thankful for.

  “Nice.” She made a circular motion with her finger.

  But that was a step too far. He wasn’t a piece of meat for her inspection. His feet remained firmly planted. “It fits. Trust me.”