Page 22 of Wooing the Wiccan
“Well, well. Someone’s in a very good mood for a Monday.”
Er. I turn toward the doorway between the kindergarten classrooms, where Gretchen is standing with a big smirk.
“New week,” I offer. “Lots to be excited about.”
She laughs as she comes toward me. “You might be the most positive, chill person I know, but that would be pushing things even for you. No, allthis”—she waves up and down toward me, encapsulating my whole being in the gesture—“is to do with that guy you’ve been ‘kinda seeing.’”
“I can practically hear the air quotes,” I say dryly.
“Thanks, it’s a gift. Now spill. I want to hear everything.”
I should protest, but I really want to talk tosomeoneabout Raðulfr. A guy deserves the chance to gush when he maybe meetsthe one.
“He came over last night for the new moon ritual—did I tell you he’s pagan?”
“No, you didnot.” She makes an excited face. “That’s great! You won’t have to worry about whether he’s going to be judgy about it.”
“He’s definitely not judgy about it. I already knew he wouldn’t be, but he was so great—he’s not Wiccan, so he had some questions, and he was interested and respectful and…” I trail off with a happy sigh. “Everything I could have hoped for.”
Gretchen puts a hand over her heart. “Aww. I’m so happy for you. I can’t remember the last time I saw you all ditzy with feelings like this.”
“I can’t remember the last time I felt it,” I admit. “He’s amazing.”
My friend raises a brow. “And did this amazing man go home after the ritual, or did you maybe have a different kind of ‘ritual’?” This time she actually does make air quotes, and a laugh escapes me at how ridiculous she is.
“Maybe we did.”
I’d be worried about her squeal rupturing my eardrums, except I’m too busy being worried about whether the death grip she now has on my arm is going to leave bruises. “Yes! Yes, I knew it! Tell me every detail. Was it good? It had to be, or you wouldn’t be smiling like that.”
Her excitement validates mine, and I let my grin take over my face again. “It was good.” I pause while she bounces on her toes, then add, “Both times.”
“Twice?!” she shrieks.
“And again this morning,” I confirm, and she throws her arms around me in a jumpy-dancey-hug that I enthusiastically return.
“What the heck is happening in here?” a voice asks, and we break apart as Kaelynn, who teaches second grade, walks in from the hall. “Are we having a party?”
Not for the first time, I marvel at her timing. She always seems to know when we’re talking about something fun. Sure, Gretchen’s not being quiet, but Kaelynn’s classroom is at the other end of the hall, and Gretch wasn’tthatloud. If she was, we’d have four more teachers in here too.
“Jared’s got a new man!” Gretchen declares gleefully. “One who makes him happy! Look at his face!”
Kaelynn studies me, and my cheeks get hot under her scrutiny. “We’ve just started seeing each other,” I mumble.
“They had sex last night, and today he’s all…” Gretch makes that up-and-down gesture again.
“I see it,” Kaelynn says, nodding. “That’s fantastic, Jared! Tell us about him. What’s his name?”
“Raðulfr,” I say, and Kaelynn’s mouth drops open.
“Say again?” Gretchen demands. “You know I’m so bad with non-English names.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not saying it right either,” I confess, then walk her through the pronunciation the way Raðulfr did for me. “I’ll get better at it.”
“You’re doing just fine, I’m sure,” Kaelynn assures me, a suppressed kind of excitement in her voice. “Come on, tell us more! What does he look like? Do you have pictures?”
I shake my head. “No pictures, but he’s tall, with long dark-blond hair that’s so beautiful. I swear, he’s either got the world’s best hair genes or he spends a fortune on haircare. And he’s got a beard—it’s not long, just kind of hugs his jaw—but it’s so softand…” I bite my lip, embarrassed. “Crap, I’m gushing over hisbeard. I’ve got it so bad.”
“You really do,” Gretchen agrees. “It’s awesome.”
