Page 33 of The Witch's Cottage
“Hello, spring,” I whisper. “I’ve missed you.”
“And I you,” says a warm voice from behind me.
I whirl around to find Alden leaning against the garden fence, arms crossed on the top rail. His hair gleams in the sunlight, and his scruff has been freshly trimmed. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt and clean trousers with suspenders, looking as tidy and handsome as I’ve ever seen him.
Leaping up, I hurry to the fence and wrap my arms around his neck. His woodsy smell washes over me, and he laughs when I press my nose to his skin and breathe him in.
“What was that rhyme you were just saying?” he asks as I pull away.
“Oh, it’s just a little blessing for the seeds. It’ll help them grow up healthy and strong.”
Alden arches a brow. “So, it’s a spell?”
I smile and roll my eyes. “Yes, it’s aspell.”
“I’ve been wondering when you were finally going to work some magic.” His smile is big and beaming, and it makes me rise onto my toes to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.
“I’ve been working my magic all along—you just don’t know it.”
“That explains it, then,” he says, pressing a kiss to my head.
“Explains what?” I pull away, leaning on the fence beside him.
“Why I’m so spellbound by you.”
“Alden Stonewood,” I say, barely able to contain my smile, “you’re going to make me blush.”
“Oh, not yet. We’ll save that for later.”
Laughing, I fetch my empty jars and wicker baskets, then head into the cottage with Alden. The kettle is steaming whenwe step through the kitchen door, and Harrison is sitting on the kitchen table in a patch of sunlight.
“Good morning, Harrison,” Alden says.
“Good morning, Alden,” Harrison says back.
I blink at him. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard him call Alden by name.
“What’d he say?” Alden asks.
As I take two teacups off the shelf and sprinkle herbs into each, I say over my shoulder, “He said good morning.”
With a pleased smile, Alden takes a seat at the kitchen table, which doesn’t have a hint of a wobble now that he’s fixed it. I pour steaming water into our cups, place the last two slices of cinnamon apple cake onto a plate, then turn to face the table.
And Alden is sitting there, cheeks a bit red, a tiny wooden carving sitting on the table before him. Harrison is sniffing it, ears flicked forward with interest.
“What’s that?” I ask quietly as I set the plate on the table.
“It’s for you,” Alden says, voice edged with what sounds like bashfulness. “I hope you like it.”
Reaching out, I lift the carving carefully, my chest swelling with such joy I feel it might burst. “It looks like Harrison,” I whisper. Tears make my eyes mist over, and I wipe them quickly away.
Alden shrugs. “I was inspired.”
For the second time this morning, I throw my arms around his neck, and he lets out a surprised huff. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper into his ear. “You’ve made me a very happy witch.”
“It doesn’t lookthatmuch like me,” Harrison says. “My tail is much longer than that.” As if to prove a point, he wraps his fluffy white tail around his paws. “But it is... nice.”
Pulling away from Alden, I pass a loving palm down Harrison’s back.
