Spellbound: A magical sequel to Bewitched Read Free Page A

witchcraft. She teases me about being descended from the Salem witches, but I’m not magical. I think I’d know.”
    “You can always ask me anything. There are a few coven rules about sharing knowledge with the uninitiated, but otherwise, I’m an open book.”
    “You’re in a coven?”
    “Sure. Isn’t everyone?” I smile at her. “It’s mostly a group of my mother’s friends. Think knitting circle or book club.”
    “Sam said they had apple cobbler after the Mabon ceremony she went to in September.”
    “The coven loves a good pot luck. Martha always brings the cobblers.”
    “Martha? She’s a witch?”
    I nod. I don’t think Martha would be mad I’ve outed her. Since Madison’s first visit, she always asks about my girlfriend. No pressure or anything.
    “Anyone else I know?” she asks.
    “Several, but that’s for another time.”
    She doesn’t argue with me over the bill and I pay in cash, leaving a generous tip for taking up the table all evening.  
    A light rain falls as we step outside. Too soft to ping off the car rooftops, but more than a mist, it carries the briny scent of the harbor behind us.  
    “Crap. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”
    I grin. “Want me to take care of it?”
    “Are we talking about you holding your jacket over both our heads? Or something else?”
    “The latter.”
    “Show me.” She sounds eager to see more after I revealed my fire-starting skills last night.
    Concentrating on the sky, I focus on each drop of rain as it falls until I can shift them back into the clouds. “It won’t last long, so we might want to hurry home.” I hold out my hand for her to take.  
    With our fingers interlinked, we pick up our pace, laughing and imitating Olympic speed-walkers with our fast walking. When we get to the intersection near the memorial, I glance over to the wall, no black cat. I do see a shadow in the corner that could be a man, but I don’t pause long enough to confirm. It’s probably nothing more than the streetlight shining behind a tree.
    We return to where we began the evening. Madison pauses, looking uncertain about the odds of a good night kiss. If only she knew I’d wanted to spend the night kissing her. Garlic won’t keep me away. I’m not a vampire.  
    I don’t give her more opportunity to spin into doubt.
    Using the tip of my finger, I lift her chin and brush my lips from the corner of her jaw to the shadow below her full bottom lip. She sighs against my cheek as I kiss the edge of her mouth and then lightly press my lips against hers.
    As the kiss intensifies, our bodies move closer together. Her arms sneak behind my back. I cup her cheek with one hand and the other rests between her shoulder blades. Cursing the layers between us, I pull her scarf away to touch her neck. I tower over her, but our bodies fit together perfectly. Like we were made for each other.
    If I believe in my mother’s prophecy, maybe we are.

Three

    Monday morning my phone buzzes with a call. Glancing down as I walk across campus, I see my father’s name. I think about sending the call to voicemail, but it will only delay the inevitable.
    “Andrew.” He answers like I’m bothering him although he’s the one who called me.
    “Hello, Father.”
    “Good,” he replies like I’ve asked him how he’s doing, “and you?”
    “Fine. I’m on my way to the lab. Do you need something specific?”
    “No, can’t I call my son and catch up?”
    He’s never called to chat. Ever.
    “How’s the dating life?”
    This conversation is speeding toward bizarre. We don’t talk about my social life. Other than grades and graduate programs, we don’t talk about me. Or much at all. Occasionally he’ll summon me back to Boston for dinner. I’ll take the train and spend more time in transit than bonding with him. I always leave feeling like he’s keeping tabs on me and my mother rather than genuinely curious about my life or interests.
    Feeling defensive, I decide to be honest. “I