Page 45 of The Trouble With Spells
And yes, those butterflies had swooped in again when he had blown into the shop–had it only been a week?–but this was so much more than fluttery feelings.
Hex jumped over Michael, landing with a soft thud and a put out meow between us, startling us both. Michael reached out a hand and stroked the clearly starving feline, offering him solace. “I know, your breakfast is late, isn’t it?”
Hex purred and preened beneath his attention, arching his back and stretching, before flopping onto his back and silently demanding belly rubs.
The fact that Michael also liked my cat was another point in his favor.
“I’m surprised he left us alone this long,” I stroked Hex’s black fur, before rubbing under his chin. That gesture amped up his purring, the sound rumbling in the room.
“Well, someone was making a ton of scary noises,” Michael’s lips quirked in amusement, and I playfully swatted his arm.
“I was not!” Heat flushed my cheeks as I remembered some of the sounds that had come from me. Maybe I had. Okay, I undeniably had been making a ton of noise. I was loud in bed and not ashamed one iota about it.
Michael’s brows rose to his hairline. “You so were! You are very vocal, Callum Turner! And quite bossy!”
Shrugging, I grinned. “Sorry not sorry.”
“Me either,” he told me, still absently petting Hex. “I liked it.” Leaning over the pesky feline that had determinedly planted himself between us, he whispered against my lips, “My bossy bottom.”
“That is not going to be my new nickname,” I told him smartly, scrunching up my nose. Rolling over, I reached for my glasses, groaning when I saw the time. “Ugh, we need to get up. I rescheduled Mrs. Hawthorne’s reading for this morning. She’ll be getting all kinds of antsy if she doesn’t get her cards read soon. I swear that woman doesn’t miss a week. Even though I constantly tell her that she doesn’t need to have her cards read that often. The woman is eighty, what does she think is going to happen in her life that she needs to know about?”
“You’re cute when you ramble,” Michael rolled out of bed, making sure to wait while I followed on his side of the bed. “You should read my cards.”
“What?” His statement caught me off guard. “Really? You want me to?”
He shrugged, grabbing my hand and tugging me across the hall into the bathroom. After he had brushed his teeth while I peed, he turned the shower on to heat up. “Why not?”
Grabbing my toothbrush and the toothpaste, I stared at him in the bathroom mirror’s reflection. “It just didn’t seem like your thing.”
His blue eyes watched me vigorously brushing my teeth for a few seconds before he responded. “I’m changing my mind on what I believe and don’t believe. Let’s just say I’m more open to a lot of things than I was. Besides, it will be fun.”
Spitting the mouthful of froth into the sink, I frowned. “I guess.”
Hex wandered into the bathroom, which was rapidly filling with steam, and voiced his opinion on still waiting for his delayed breakfast.
“Sorry, dude, your daddy and I need showers,” Michael told him. “Then we’ll all get breakfast.”
Until this morning, each of us had politely waited while the other showered, with turned backs and downturned eyes. This morning I got to step into the tub next to Michael. It took us twice as long to shower, our soapy hands running over each other’s bodies, and stealing kisses every few minutes. Mindful of the time, we both made an effort to keep it PG, or at least PG-13, washing each other but not letting our fingers linger too long on any spot.
I flicked the water from my eyes after rinsing the shampoo from my hair, to find a pair of green cat eyes staring at me. Hex had poked his head around the shower curtain and was watching us with narrowed eyes, silently judging. As if to say, this is what’s holding up my breakfast?
Michael, noticing where my gaze was focused, turned his head to see the cat staring at us. “Creepy.”
Snorting, I turned off the water. “That’s called judging. And probably plotting our demise for his late breakfast.”
Once dressed, we made our way downstairs, dodging Hex with each step. The cat was determined to try to trip one, or both of us, winding his long body between our legs. When he would get a few steps ahead of us, he would stop and hurry back to make sure we were still following.
“Yes, yes, we’re coming,” I admonished, stepping over him on the last step and shooing the cat in front of me. With Michael’s luck right now, we didn’t need him tripping over Hex, falling, and possibly getting injured. One hospital visit was quite enough.
Once I had the cat nibbling away on his wet food, I reached into the cabinet and pulled out my box of Franken Berry cereal. Pouring milk into my bowl, I questioned Michael’s frowny face. “What’s that face for?”
Digging into my strawberry cereal, I sighed in pleasure, leaning up against the kitchen counter.
“How can you eat that?” He poured himself a cup of coffee, inhaling the rich, dark roast as he sat down at the table. “It’s like all sugar.”
Nodding my agreement, I grinned around the mouthful of pink joy as I chewed. Swallowing, I sat down across from him. “’Tis the season. I look forward to this time of year all year long. It’s only available in the fall. I eat three or four boxes once a year, and then I’m good until thenext year.” Waving my spoon at him, I smirked. “Don’t be jealous of my awesome cereal.”
He chuckled, sipping his coffee, which I knew from the past week was usually all he had for breakfast. He’d have some kind of healthy snack mid-morning, before lunch. “Jealous isn’t the word I would use. Horrified. Yeah, that fits.”
