Magic and Mayhem: Just Like Magic (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Virginia Nelson

  After all, she’d told them she was a pet sitter extraordinaire. Couldn’t let them down at this late date. But after wandering around the house for about a half an hour, Stevie had to admit defeat. Apparently, the dog wasn’t in the house, nor could she find any evidence of his presence whatsoever. Not even a dog bowl.

  “Hey, Stevie, come here,” called Fergus.

  Following the sound of his voice, Stevie found the pug by the back door. “Do you need to go out?” she asked the little black dog.

  “Well, yes, but I think we should look in the backyard. I think I saw a building out there.”

  Stevie considered him for a moment before shrugging and opening the door. He was right, there was a small building like a tinier version of the house. She’d guess it was a barn of some sort, based on the two doors at the front, but the windows and roof matched the main house so well, she’d guess they used the same builder and materials. Following the yipping former chameleon, Stevie headed that direction.

  Inside, she found it was indeed a barn, but with only one stall. “This is weird,” Stevie said.

  “Not really. We’re in West Virginia. Barns are pretty normal here.”

  “No, I mean, where is their dog?”

  “What dog are you talking about?” asked the puggy familiar.

  Bending low, she considered his now large brown eyes. “Fergus, I answered an ad on Witch’s List—”

  “Your mother would point out that buying a couch on a site like that might be okay, but traveling across country to take a job from there might not be wise. That’s how good little witches end up in trouble.”

  Stevie shrugged, rubbing her hot forehead with her slightly cooler palm. “Mom’s in witch jail, and can’t have any say over the matter, can she? Besides, I’m a grown witch and can make my own choices,” she defended.

  “Okay, good enough, but what in the ad told you to look for a dog?” the familiar asked.

  Stevie headed back toward the house, closing the barn door again after Fergus joined her on the lawn. “The ad was for a pet sitter. Four-legged companion, that was what it asked for. So, there should be a little doggy—aside from you, around here someplace.”

  “Four legged? You do know that dogs aren’t the only animal considered a four-legged companion?” Fergus said.

  “I know that,” Stevie answered. Between the coughing and the fever, this illness business was for the birds.

  “I think you’re pet sitting a horse,” Fergus said. “I mean, there is no sign of a dog, and there is a barn with a stall and horse items… If it looks like horse, smells like horse, then how long until we admit it probably is a horse?”

  “Nobody invited you to come along,” Stevie pointed out.

  “You magicked me into the car,” Fergus yelped.

  “I did not,” Stevie said, putting her hands on her hips. “I forgot to pack you.”

  The former chameleon rolled his doggy eyes. “How do you think I managed to show up in the car?”

  She blinked at him. Giving up, she opened the door to the house and let him in. “I didn’t really think about it.”

  “Were you sneezing before I showed up?” he asked.

  “Yes, but…” She thought she might have been.

  “You’re sneezing spells!” the dog yelped. Just then, she rapid-fire sneezed three times. The green bubbles floated out, and Fergus tried to dodge the one headed his direction. Sadly, his little puggy legs were too short, and his puggy claws scrabbled on the hardwood floor. When it burst, he was still hit with the rainbow lights. In seconds, he flapped red wings, clearly a bird.

  “Are you a parrot? Or a woodpecker?” she asked him.

  “I think both?” the bird Fergus responded. “Careful, don’t fall in the sinkhole.”

  At her feet, a sinkhole had opened up, created by one of the bubbles. The former area carpet made it a pretty sinkhole—carpeted, anyway—and what had been one of the random shoes—who lived in this house anyway?—had turned into a beach ball which bounced around the hole like it was an arcade.

  She waved her hand, trying to close the hole and return the whole thing to carpet and shoe, but nothing happened. “My magic is on the fritz,” she said. “I can’t make it go away, so just avoid it for now.”

  The pug peered down into the hole. “How deep do you suppose it is?” he asked.

  “Dunno,” Stevie answered.

  “Where do you think the horse is?” Fergus asked.

  “Dunno,” Stevie repeated.

  “Where are the people who hired you?” Fergus asked.

  “I think we both know the answer to that,” Stevie shrieked, punching her thighs in frustration.

  Fergus smiled as much as a pug could grin. “I know, just figured I’d point out all that is weird about the situation.”

  “I’m sneezing spells in green bubbles, and you think that where the horse might be or who brought me here is our first problem?” Stomping her foot, she headed toward the kitchen of the log cabin. Maybe they had some alcohol, because she needed a stiff drink. Or some chicken soup, whichever.

  She sneezed again, the bubble burst, and Fergus returned to being a pug.

  “It is for sure on the list,” Fergus said. “Can you scratch my butt?” The pug circled twice, unable to reach its own behind.

  “No, I’m not supposed to, remember? I think you’re shedding, that’s why you’re so cranky,” she told Fergus.

  “I’m not shedding or a chameleon right now. I’m a pug,” he said.

  “Whatever,” Stevie shrugged. “I’m still not supposed to mess with your shed. I think.”

  The knock at the backdoor had her freezing with her hand in the cupboard. “Someone is here,” she whispered loudly.

  The pug stopped circling to stare at her. “That is literally the least weird thing that has happened today.”

  “Shh!” she hissed at him.

  “Aren’t you going to answer the door?” he asked.

  “It might be the horse,” she responded. “And I’m not sure I know how to take care of a horse.”

  “I’m pretty sure they don’t knock,” the familiar answered helpfully. “I vote you answer the door.”

  “This isn’t a democracy,” she reminded him. But she did head to the front door, neatly dodging the carpeted sinkhole.

  Chapter 3

  Stevie peered through the glass panels along the side of the door and spotted a gorgeous naked male chest. The guy was wearing jeans and sneakers, but no shirt. Licking her lips, she allowed her gaze to travel over his simply spectacular pecs and awesomely carved abs. Maybe she’d been spending too much time on the computer, because when faced with a man like that in real life, she couldn’t help but realize how many needs and wants she’d been ignoring for all too long.

  When the man bent at the waist to peer back at her through the glass, she shrieked and covered the panel with her hand. Since the glass panes ran up the entire side of the door, he merely straightened a bit and gazed at her through the next pane up. “Hello?” he said uncertainly.

  “Crap on toast,” she muttered.

  “Are you going to open the door?” Fergus asked.

  “Seems like it would be a bad idea. What if I’m contagious?” Stevie asked.

  Fergus backed up a step, looking hurt. “You think of that when there’s a stranger at the door, not when you’re sneezing spells all over me?”

  She shrugged, gave up, and opened the door. Attempting a seductive pose, she considered the man on the other side. “Hello,” she said, for the first time appreciating the rasp the sore throat gave her voice.

  “Uh, hi,” the guy said. “Is this your baby?”

  Baby? She blinked at him owlishly. “What baby?”

  The guy—he had gorgeous blue eyes, framed by to die for lashes, and his sloppy blond hair flopped over his chest in a way that made her think of every prince in a movie ever—pointed downward.

  At first, she gnawed her lip, playing coy. Although she wanted to look l
ower—to check out the way the hair on his chest would taper to a point, as if showing the golden road to his pleasure palace—she thought it might be in poor taste. But the man didn’t move, still pointing down, so she slid her gaze over his sculpted body. Sweet fancy Moses, his body was lovely. All those darkened dips, made harsher in shadows cast from the porch lights, until she wanted to explore every inch of his carved body with her fingertips. Maybe her tongue.

  As she roved her gaze over the curve of his herculean apron until it vanished beneath the dark denim of his jeans, she was sure she wanted to look. He was facing her, so she couldn’t see his ass, but the way his hips were slender, yet held up by muscled legs left her pretty sure the view from behind would be equally spectacular. Looking lower, she saw…

  Yeah, that was a baby car seat and in it lay a bundle of cooing child. Stevie shrieked and jumped back a step.

  “She doesn’t like babies,” Fergus the pug explained to the stranger, as he sniffed the unwanted bundle. “Probably you should’ve led with offering to buy her a cup of coffee before you brought her a kid.”

  “I didn’t bring the kid,” the guy explained. “It was here on the porch, and I saw the unfamiliar car in the driveway, so I figured it was your kid. You know, on your doorstep, maybe you forgot to bring it inside or something?”

  “If I had a baby,” Stevie defended, propping one hand on her hip. “I’d for sure remember to bring it inside.”

  “She forgot me back home and went on a roadtrip, so I’m not sure she wouldn’t forget it,” Fergus began. “But she’s right. She’d probably remember a baby most of the time.”

  “Well, it is on your porch,” the man pointed out logically.

  “So?” Stevie asked.

  “So, you should probably do something with it,” he said.

  “Take it back,” Stevie offered, waving a hand toward the kid. It blew a spit bubble and she frowned at it. “I don’t want it.”

  “I didn’t bring the baby,” the man said with a heavy sigh. “Like I said, I saw it on your porch.”

  “Look, it’s late at night. I just drove, like, halfway across the country to get here. I’m trying to deal with this cold or something…anyway, if this is some kind of prank or whatever, I’m just not up to it. Take your baby and it was—” She tried to decide if it was nice to meet him or if ingrained manners was making her want to add that part. His abs made her think, yes, it was very nice to meet him. The baby thing made her lean toward no.

  “It isn’t my baby,” Mr. Tall, Dark, and Insistent insisted.

  “Finders keepers?” she suggested.

  “She’s got you there,” Fergus admitted.

  The man sighed deeply. “Look, lady name is Aspen, and I’m your… neighbor. I’m going to pick the baby up and we’re going to come inside. We can call the authorities and see if we can figure out how you ended up with a baby on your front porch, okay?”

  Stevie bit her lip, thinking about it before she offered her hand to him. “I’m Stevie March and this is my… Fergus. I like short walks in the general direction of coffee, single men who enjoy buying said coffee, and I don’t really care for small, drooling, wrinkled bundles of not my problem. I’ll let you and your baby in to use the phone, but please stop insisting this has a thing to do with me, okay?”

  The man took her offered palm, and electricity zinged up her arm at the contact. Stevie froze in place, considering the many sensations flooding her body. First off, his touch was calloused, large, and a little magical. Not like he was hitting her with a spell, but like it made her feel small, delicate, and somehow special all at once. Secondly, when he was touching her, the itchy, sniffly, sore throat and fever feelings abated a bit. Just being in contact with him seemed to temporarily cure some of her symptoms. Thirdly, he was hot. Like, off the charts, over the top, wanting to gobble him down in one big greedy bite attractive.

  Not that she planned to admit to any of those things, but she took note of them. And she stepped aside so he could enter with the baby that totally was not hers.

  Aspen who hadn’t shared his last name and paused noticeably before dubbing himself her neighbor entered, carefully balancing the child in his unclad and irresistible arms. He didn’t seem to share her reticence over the tiny creature, instead cradling it with both obvious experience and confidence.

  A confident man who fixed problems with ease? There was something unfairly sexy about it, Stevie decided.

  He settled onto the comfortable couch with his bundle and sent her a glance. “You have a phone?”

  “Uh, yes. In the car. One sec,” Stevie hurried outside, grabbed the phone, and glanced at the back of the car. The further away from Aspen she got, the worse her symptoms. Since that seemed to be the case, she decided that unloading the car could wait until tomorrow. Or never. She could just pull things out as needed.

  Then again, if she couldn’t find their four-legged companion, maybe she’d be better up locking up the house for her employers and skedaddling herself all the way home to Texas.

  With a sigh, she returned to the house and joined Aspen on the sofa. As she reached the couch, she sneezed. She watched the bubble as it floated toward a shocked looking sexy man and blinked fast when it burst in rainbow sparks above the child.

  “Oops,” she muttered.

  “At least that one didn’t seem to do anything,” Fergus said.

  “I can talk,” said the baby.

  Stevie dropped the phone. “That’s a talking baby.”

  “I wasn’t a minute ago,” said the baby. “How am I doing this?”

  “Where did you come from?” Aspen asked the baby, apparently taking it all in stride more than Stevie.

  “I don’t know,” said the baby. “I’m just a baby.”

  “Ugh!” Stevie said, sniffling. “This day just keeps getting worse and worse.”

  “Actually, it isn’t day at all,” Aspen pointed out. He gestured toward the window with his free hand before returning to patting the baby on the back. “Night.”

  Fergus chuckled. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

  “Call whoever,” Stevie said, passing the phone to the sexy man. “I need to get some rest.”

  Aspen accepted the phone, but didn’t immediately dial. “First off, I’m not altogether sure who to call in case of found baby. Secondly, since the baby can now talk because of your snot bubble—”

  Stevie gasped. “It was not a snot bubble,” she managed. Her outrage was both shockingly feminine sounding to her own ears and frustrating, since she was sitting there ogling him and his very nice chest while he apparently associated her with words like ‘snot.’ That was a decidedly unsexy word, in her opinion, and not at all what direction she wanted his thoughts.

  “It was, however, magic. Making you a witch,” the man continued as if she hadn’t interrupted.

  She blinked at him, not admitting anything. She knew from the rumor mill that the town was special, suggesting he wasn’t all that met the eye. But she didn’t know how special exactly, nor did she want to play true confessions with a stranger. Even if he was a very handsome and somewhat tempting stranger. “It wasn’t snot,” she repeated stubbornly.

  “We could ask the baby more questions,” Fergus suggested.

  “You can,” the baby agreed. “But I don’t know if I have answers. I can tell you my diaper is wet.”

  Deciding that using magic to help a baby couldn’t be construed as misuse of magic, Stevie clicked her fingers to magick some diapers to appear. Sadly, her magic was on the fritz, so none appeared. Well, she tried.

  “We asked where did you come from, but you didn’t know. What is the last thing you remember?”

  “Well, I was in the dark. And there was a lot of squishing, and then there was light…”

  “No,” Fergus said, shaking his pug head. “Not the first thing you remember. Please, save us all that horrible tale.”

  The baby managed to get its thumb to its mouth, so it sucked for a second before saying, �
�There were all these colors, like a minute ago. They came out of nowhere, over my bed. Then I was on the porch.”

  “You magicked it here,” Fergus said with a yelp of pleased excitement. “You kidnapped someone’s baby with a sneeze.”

  “No…” Stevie shook her head fervently. “I did not do that.”

  “I think you did,” Aspen agreed with the pug. He considered her carefully. “Your best bet might be to keep it until morning. But first, we’ll call the police.”

  “You said you didn’t know who to call,” Stevie pointed out. “Now you want to call the authorities on me?”

  “We’ll tell them the truth. That we found a baby and we’re trying to figure out where it came from and that’s it. No need to share that you’re sneezing out bubbles of magic.” Aspen offered.

  Considering she apparently accidentally sneeze swiped someone’s child, she figured he was being surprisingly helpful under the circumstances. “Fair enough. What are we going to do when the baby talks to them?”

  They all sat and stared at the baby, as if it would have answers. The baby, however, seemed very intent on just sucking its thumb.

  “We need supplies until morning,” Fergus pointed out. “Diapers and food and…”

  “I’ll run to the store.” He moved as if to pass her the child. Stevie held her arms up, to deflect him. “You’ll have to hold it until I come back.”

  “My name is Aww,” the baby offered. “It’s what people say when they come near me, so I think that means it is my name.”

  Fergus said, “Aww…”

  The baby said, “See?”

  “I don’t think I can hold it,” Stevie admitted.

  “Do you know what to buy for a baby?” Aspen asked.

  She shook her head. Sniffling, she reached for another tissue. “Plus, I don’t feel well.”

  “And she might be contagious,” Fergus added.

  “We’ll have to risk it. Here,” Aspen said. With that, he somehow situated her arms about the little bundle until it felt right, which surprised Stevie. She’d never held a baby and had it fit in her arms in quite that way. Plus, when he touched her, the sparking connection feeling increased. “How does that feel?”