Page 100 of Too Hexed to Handle

We were planning to hold our own festival this year. Nothing to do with Ozias’s death, but simply an occasion to celebrate love for what it really is – the key to a witch’s happiness, and not the thing that drives them away. I suppose I can do that without the decorations, but I was actually excited about them for once. Mostly because it’s the one week of the year I can drench the inn with pink without Astin making too much fuss about it.

‘Problems?’

Speaking of Astin.

You’d think his voice would have stopped affecting me by now, but, immediately, I’m grinning, cheeks heating. And, okay, some of that heat might be because I’m frantically stuffing chewed garlands into the box, but mostly it’s because of him. When the evidence of my latest debacle is safely hidden away, I turn to face him.

‘We have guests,’ Astin says, a strange smile playing on his face as he strides towards me. ‘You’ll want to meet them.’

I brighten. ‘Do they need my help?’

I’m not matchmaking as much these days, but sometimes a couple will come along that are so utterly hopeless, I can’t resist returning to my old methods.

‘I’m sure you’d say so.’ He pulls me against his chest, and my body melts. He’s wearing Tuesday-orange today, even though it’s – gasp – Friday, and it brings out the blue in his eyes, although that blue immediately darkens when his gaze drops to my lips. ‘You shouldn’t keep them waiting.’

I lift myself on to tiptoe. ‘Five minutes won’t hurt.’

He smirks and slants his mouth over mine. I meet it greedily. We may never make up for the years of lost kisses, but my fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him into me in an attempt at doing just that. My back hits a wooden post and it shudders ominously. Sawdust rains on my shoulders, but Astin sweeps it away before sliding a hand beneath my blouse, huffing when he discovers I’m not wearing anything underneath.

Basil huffs too.

I open my eyes. I didn’t know it was possible for a donkey to narrow their eyes, but there is a significant amount of judgement in the way he stares at us. ‘He doesn’t approve of you groping me.’

Astin raises a brow. ‘Groping you? Is that what you’d call this?’

‘Touching me in all the ways I like best,’ I correct. ‘Better?’

‘Much.’ His thumb skims my breast as his lips capture mine again, hips pinning me in place, sending a familiar rush of need to my core. He drags his mouth along my jaw, peppering kisses down my neck, and I make the fatal mistake of opening my eyes.

Basil has moved closer.

‘Astin . . .’ It’s hard to get the words out when I can feel how much he wants me. ‘He’s watching us.’

Astin curses, tilting his head in Basil’s direction. ‘Basil, turn round.’

‘He’s a donkey. You can’t order him about.’ Gently, I push Astin away. ‘We can’t do this here. We’re defiling his home.’

‘We’ve defiled it before.’ The smile he gives me is wicked.

I’m warmer than ever, my legs clamped together, but as pleasant a memory as that is, unfortunately the before part doesn’t outweigh the after, where I picked straw from my hair for the rest of the day.

‘He was in the paddock then – and,’ I add quickly, when Astin opens his mouth, ‘we aren’t throwing him outside so you can have your way with me. Basil would never understand.’

‘What Basil needs to understand is that the woman I love has such a successful inn, I can’t find anywhere else to get her alone.’

I try not to beam too hard at a certain word. I hear it regularly nowadays, but it never grows old. ‘You get me alone every night.’

He kisses the corner of my mouth. ‘Not enough.’

‘Shouldn’t have paid for all those posters and flyers then, should you?’ I poke him in the chest before readjusting my clothes. ‘Come on.’

I lead him into the main building – successfully passing the chicken coop without a single flinch – to rescue the guests he abandoned. Fresh white paint gleams on the walls, complimenting the newly installed pine-wood bar top. Pink light glows from rose-shaped lanterns on the walls. Not candles, but dancing flames, made from magic.

Now I don’t have to be afraid of my abilities any more, I can take a little emotion here and there from Astin. Not enough to charm him, but enough for me to use magic when needed. My parents are now running the most popular apothecary in the south, and when I drop supplies round, they’ve started forcing me to stay for tea. Dad patted my shoulder last time. Sometimes I use magic simply for the luxury of making my life easier – Nuri explained our wraiths were once called familiars, something that can act as a witch’s companion or assistant, and once our guests are asleep for the night, I send one to do the cleaning, which helps with Astin’s demands for more Daisy-time.

A number of guests sit in the dining area, sharing a cup of tea as they admire the grounds through the window, talking drifting from them in their relaxed state. It’s delicious and heady, but it barely bothers me.

Besides, I’m far more interested in the two people standing beside the bar.