Page 39 of Witch Please

Titus rubbed his hand across the top of her head, grinning when she smacked his arm. “Don’t even lie, you love our Sundays at home.”

“I do,” she said quietly.

In her sad eyes, he glimpsed the memory of happier times. When it wasn’t just the two of them joking around, but Mom and Dad too, giving each other shit and rambling about stuff that happened when they were kids. Nothing dramatic or spectacular, but moments that were gone forever now, lost to time and change. To talk to Mom, they had to visit the cemetery, and Dad had stopped listening entirely after she died.

“You’ll love this even more. I’ve got a buttermilk pie in the freezer. Want me to get it out?” Probably he should offer Maya a hug instead of sweets, but she worked hard enough to enjoy both.

“Is it Memaw’s recipe?”

“Obviously,” he said.

Memaw had taught Titus’s mother everything she knew about baking, and he’d learned from both of them. Their maternal grandmother had been gone for twenty years, but he still had a box full of her old recipes written in cramped penmanship on stained index cards. One of these days, he planned to update all of them, see if he could retain the flavor while improving the nutrition and health benefits, just as he had the gingersnaps.

Maya nudged him. “What are you waiting for? I was promised pie!”

A few hours later, they were settled at the table, eating pot roast, potatoes, and green beans. Titus hadn’t mentioned this because he knew she’d tease him, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “You’ll never guess whose kitchen was on fire.”

“Mrs. Carminian? She mentioned lighting up her barbecue.” His sister waggled her brows. “I hope she was waiting for you in her sexiest housedress.”

“How are you so right all the time? Her husband had a camcorder and said he was bi-curious but also open to being cuckolded.”

Maya’s mouth fell open, a bite of potatoes arrested on the way in. “Really?”

“No, not really.” He cracked up at her expression and submitted when she rounded the table to force a mid-level noogie on him.

“You’re not funny.” She pointed her fork at him, resuming her seat when she finally felt she’d evened the score.

“I’m hilarious. Admit it, I had you going. You were about to start texting everyone that the Carminians are secret swingers.”

Her face pinked. “Shut up, I was not.”

“Anyway, back to my original point. I was sent over to check on Danica’s place. Apparently she was having some friends over, got a little wild with the candles. Set the kitchen curtains on fire.”

“Aw, so you got to see your dream girl…and confirm she’s not cheating on you already. That’s nice.” Maya leaned over and patted his arm in a mock supportive gesture.

It’s embarrassing how well she knows me.

Titus deliberately cut a bite of beef. “We’re not exclusive. It’s too soon for us to have had that talk.”

Not too soon for me to think about it, mind you, or to want her for myself.But he was trying his best to keep his expectations reasonable, stick to a rational timetable and not scare the crap out of this woman.

“Bro. I know you. You were already wondering if she’s blowing you off when she said she couldn’t come over today.” Maya paused, assessing his expression. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” he mumbled.

“Therefore, you were secretly relieved to find her at home, doing what she said she would be.”

“That…is also true.”

“You want some advice?”

“Yes, please.”

“Try to stop being scared and just let this unfold as it’s meant to. Danica doesn’t know your history. This is probably her normal getting-to-know-you pace. If you obsess over how it will go wrong…look, if it goes sideways, it’ll be because of your behavior. And not some random curse.”

They’d argued about this before. Maya did think he must be doing something, as each failure made him more skittish and desperate, more prone to clinging like a squid. And apparently, most people weren’t into that. Frankly, it might be alarming if they were.

“Thanks. I’ll try to be cool.”

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