Page 2 of Mistletoe & Magic
Across the way, a neighbor lifts a strand of lights and the bulbs blink one by one, soft gold. The whole world feels softer, whispering that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Coming home to Wisteria Cove feels right.
Willa breaks through my thoughts and smirks. “Donna may have mentioned that he’s been extra grumpy with the holiday season approaching at the tree farm, so he definitely needs your help. Besides, Junie is a great kid. You always have fun with her. Plus, Remy is not bad to look at. Maybe you two of you can work out your issues together over the holidays. If you know what I mean,” she wiggles her eyebrows.
“I’m not emotionally ready to handle a hot, grumpy single dad, Willa.” I say dryly.
“Oh, so you admit he’s hot,” she smirks.
All right, I’vealwayshad a crush on Remy. Age gap is one of my favorite romance tropes, and Remy definitely gives off the vibes. He’s thirty-five and heart stopping handsome. He’s only nine years older than me, so my fantasies of Remy have always been chef’s-kiss perfection. Of course, I am not telling Willa any of this. Or that I named my favorite vibrator Remy.
Nope, she doesn’t need to know any of that. And this might be exactly why I’m having second thoughts about working with him. Because it’s not just second thoughts, it’s some seriously dirty thoughts. Working for someone I’ve had a crush on for so long is likely to bring on complicated emotions. And I’m feeling complicated enough these days.
Willa lives in a cabin out on Remy’s tree farm with her boyfriend Tate, who works as a manager for Remy. She and my other sister, Rowan, would tease me mercilessly if they knew Ihad a thing for Remy, and Imost definitelyhave a thing for Remy. I think any hot-blooded woman with a beating heart would have a thing for him.
First of all, he’s tall—at least six foot two. Derek was maybe five foot six. I’m not crying over a man who isn’t even six feet tall. Remy’s got that dark hair, brooding storm-gray eyes, sexy jawline. And he’s built with buff arms like a bodybuilder, only I know for a fact he got that body naturally working his tree farm.
Yeah, I’m a goner for Remy Bennett. Even though he’s always been that unattainable book boyfriend that you dream about and never a reality. Until today. Today he’s a reality. And a great distraction from Derek and his bullshit.
“I think you two would be good for each other,” she smirks. “And you know Donna is right. This is a good opportunity for you both. Remy needs help, and you need a job with a place to stay. Win-win.”
“I’m not like you and Rowan. I don’t have my shit together like you two. I’m a mess,” I say quietly. “What if I let him down?”
“I don’t know why you think that,” she says, glancing over with a look of concern. “You are totally smart, cool, and a knockout. So what if you haven’t found your passion yet? Maybe it’s Remy.” She cackles at the last part.
My sister Willa has always had a gift for spot-on intuition. My other sister, Rowan, is an apothecary and yoga instructor, who I fill in for occasionally. Both are really beautiful and successful. I don’t have the same gifts they do; in fact, I don’t have any gifts. People widely know and respect our mother, Lilith, as the town sea witch. Do they ride on brooms? No, but they all definitely have gifts.
I’m just Ivy. The girl who has had dozens of part-time jobs and can’t seem to get her shit together andfind herself. And today, getting kicked out of the town home that Derek and I shared and moving back to my hometown is just another failure I guess I can add to the list. Poor Ivy can’t keep a job or a man.
I sit up higher in my seat as we pull into the drive for Bennett Tree Farm. It’s like something out of a snow globe. A big, beautiful red barn dusted with fresh powder comes into sight, surrounded by towering evergreens wrapped in string lights. A hand-painted sign reads “Cut Your Own Joy.” I don’t know who painted it, but I want to hug them. I glance back and realize maybe Junie did that. It’s adorable.
“This is like...if Hallmark had a baby with a Pinterest board,” I breathe. “Wow. Remy has done a lot to the place in the past few years since he took it over.”
“Welcome to your new life,” Willa says. “You’re going to have so much fun here. I love living out here, too.”
“I don’t even know how to nanny. What if Junie decides she doesn’t like me?” I say suddenly, feeling nervous.
“Last year, you made a giant gingerbread replica of Hogwarts for fun.” She glances over and laughs.
“What?” I say with a shrug. I guess I am a big kid at heart.
“It’s hilarious that out of all the jobs you’ve had, being a nanny is the one job you haven’t had yet,” she teases. “I feel like I’m dropping you off for your first day of school.”
“All right, not fair.” But it is ironic, I guess. I am notorious for having had a ton of part-time jobs everywhere. I’ve done it all. From dog walking, pet sitting, serving, bartending, cleaning houses…I’ve mostly done it all. Some would say I’m a jack of all trades, but I just haven’t found what makes me happy. Willa is successful with her bookstore and coffee shop, Wisteria Books & Brews. And Rowan is opening up her own apothecary shop, Salt & Root, next to the bookstore, where she’ll have a yoga studio on the top floor and her apothecary on the bottom. We’veall been working and saving to go in on it together. It’s going to be amazing when she finally gets it up and going.
We pull up to the one-bedroom cabin that Willa and Tate live in on the Bennett tree farm property, and head in and get Cobweb, her cat, to bring with her back to the bookstore.
“Can you grab her carrier?” she calls as she heads to the back of the tiny space.
“Yeah,” I say as I look around and find Cobweb curled up on their bed on a blanket in their cozy, rustic home.
Outside, the cabin glows like a lantern through the trees. A wreath hangs on the red front door, woven with cedar, eucalyptus, and a few sprigs of wisteria, that our mom likely gave her, tied with a bright red ribbon. A stack of split logs is tucked beneath the overhang, dusted with snow.
Inside, stockings hang from boat hooks Tate mounted into the beam, knit in cream and red. The Christmas lights throw a soft glow of gold across the room, catching on the framed black-and-white photos of Wisteria Cove and the little watercolor of the harbor that Willa loves.
The tree stands near the big window, tall and full, dressed in a mix that is pure Willa and Tate. Hand-cut paper snowflakes from the bookstore craft night. Cinnamon salt dough stars. Glass baubles in shades of sea foam and smoke. A driftwood star crowns the top, sanded smooth by years in the water. Bright red ribbon winds through the branches, and tucked between needles are small bookish ornaments: tiny open novels, a miniature typewriter, a copper bookmark charm.
On the dining table sits a long runner of linen, scattered with pinecones, taper candles in mismatched brass holders, and a bowl of oranges studded with cloves. The kitchen is strung with a simple strand of lights over the open shelves, reflecting off polished copper pots. A kettle rests on the stove. Mugs wait with candy canes hooked over the rims. Every corner has atouch of them. A stack of well-loved Christmas records near the record player. A basket of knit throws by the couch. A jar of wish papers on the coffee table for guests to write a hope and toss into the fire.
The whole cabin feels like a held breath and a warm hug, the kind of place where you can hear the snow hush outside and the quiet promise of the season settle in your bones.
