Page 35 of Charmed, I'm Sure
Snickering to myself, I sent off one final text as I walked into the kitchen.
Magnolia
Goodnight,Taylor.
Taylor
Goodnight, Magnolia.
“Spill,” Maddie demanded, pulling my gaze from where it was still glued to my screen.
She and Aunt Evie stood at the kitchen island, brows raised expectantly, giddy smiles stretching across their lips.
Shit.
9
Damn cat
Magnolia
Therestoftheweek blurred by as I prepped for upcoming catering gigs and readied the shop for the impending hurricane. Because, of course, Louisiana’s coastline couldn’t catch a break for even one season. I hadn’t seen Taylor since he dropped me off at the manor on Wednesday night, but each morning brought a random question from him.
Today’s was, “What’s your favorite color?” When I responded with “blue,” it wasevidently too vague for his tastes. When I joked about giving him the exact Hex code, I could practically hear his laughter through the flood of laughing emojis he sent back. But other than a few texts exchanged, it felt as if Wednesday had never happened.
The sound of Lewis Capaldi’sBefore You Gofilled my earbuds, drowning out the whir of the drill as I drove another screw into the plywood, somehow managing to hold it in place while precariously balanced on averyunstable plastic milk crate. Could I have asked for help? Sure.ShouldI have asked for help? Absolutely. But I was a strong, independent woman—who apparently thought she could hold a four-foot-long piece of wood, nearly wider than my arm span, while drilling it into place. So far, I was…managing. But I still had four more windows to go, and my muscles were already screaming at me.
When the screw was flush against the plywood, I dropped my arms, exhaling heavily as I took a moment to look around.
Everyone in town seemed to move about in a calm state of panic, finishing last-minute storm preparations. Boards covered most windows on the street, and sandbags were stacked in front of storefronts—including mine. Smaller windows were taped in an X pattern in hopes that, if they broke, shattered glass wouldn’t litter the store or street. The local grocery was completely out of bread, non-perishables, and, of course, beer—because you can’t survive a hurricane without the essentials. But aside from that, it was a typical Sunday afternoon; the sun still shone brightly, warming the chill that had settled in over the last few weeks.
“Need a hand?” The deep timbre of Taylor’s voice pierced through the music in my ears, startling me so much that I nearly toppled off my makeshift stool. “Easy there, sunshine,” he chuckled, his hand bracing my lower back to keep me steady.
“Make a damn noise, Taylor. Geezums!” My hand flew to my chest as I struggled to steady my racing heart. At that moment, I couldn’t tell if my pulse was racing from the near fall or from the warmth of his palm pressed against the small of my back, his thumb rubbing in little circles along my spine.
He laughed, “I did… many times. I think I called your name at least three times before I realized you had earbuds in.”
“So your solution was to sneak up on me while I’m holding a power tool?”
His head shook slightly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “What are you going to do, Mags? Drill me to death?”
“The idea might have merit.” I pulled the trigger, the drill whirring to life as I struggled to suppress a smile.
Fiery sapphire blues locked onto mine, and suddenly, the thought ofmedrillinghimwasn’t what was on my mind. That thought needed to be squashed immediately.
“So,” he said, taking a step closer, hands shoved into his pockets, “do you need help?”
“Hmm?” My mind was still swirling along the gutter, eyes sweeping over the impressive expanse of his chest behind a button-down shirt that had no reason to be that fitted.
“Do you need help?” he asked, slowing his cadence as he dipped his head until his face filled my view.
“What? Oh! Help. Uh… sure? Yeah, help would be nice.”
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Taylor’s eyes locked onto mine again as he stretched out his hand, a smile curling one side of his mouth as I placed the drill into his palm. “Mind somewhere else today, cher?”
You have no idea.
