by Amy Star
He arched an eyebrow at her.
“What?”
“I don’t know. I thought I’d be doing most of the work. You never cease to amaze me.”
“Toss or stack,” she repeated, drawing a laugh from him.
“I’ll toss them up.”
The barn aisle was narrow, and Clara had already learned to park with the passenger door against the wall so there would be room to open the driver’s side door. Mason followed her out, stealing a quick kiss when she turned to climb the ladder closest to the truck.
“Let’s get to work,” she said, talking to herself more than him.
She pulled on her gloves and the first bale of hay landed with a thud at her feet on the hayloft floor. She moved it near the wall, careful to leave some room for air to circulate to prevent a fire. Another bale landed, then another as Mason found his rhythm and threw them as quickly as he could.
From where he was in the bed of the truck, he couldn’t really see her, so she used her magic to carry most of the weight of the bales, making sure they were just heavy enough that it didn’t look like they were levitating from where Mason worked below her.
Levitation spells were actually easy for her, and she was able to keep up with Mason’s pace without breaking a sweat. When the bed of the truck was empty, she moved to the part of the loft that was even with the trailer and they went through the entire process again.
When Mason finally threw the last bale of hay into the loft, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand and looked up to where Clara was standing.
“You have them stacked already?” he asked, incredulous.
“We had a good rhythm going,” she said, climbing down the ladder and sliding into the open window of the truck without opening the door.
She turned on the engine and pulled forward until the trailer was even with the feed room, careful not to knock him off his feet in the process.
Opening the feed room, she pointed out where she wanted the newest bags to be stacked, then started grabbing the fifty-pound feed bags and throwing them onto her shoulder as if they weighed a few pounds.
She could feel Mason’s shock at her strength, but he didn’t mention it, and she decided that there were things better left unsaid. If she didn’t act like it was out of the ordinary, maybe he would assume she was really strong instead of a witch who could make things levitate at will.
“What’s with all the pelleted hay in the bags?” he asked as he helped unload them. “Aren’t three hundred bales of Bermuda enough?”
“It is, but I worry,” she shrugged. “I just want to make sure if something happens to the hay, I have enough grain and hay pellets to make it through.”
“That’s great, but what about mice? All these hay pellets won’t do you much good if the mice eat everything.”
She smiled, taking the last bag from him and stacking it on the pile.
“I don’t have a mouse problem,” she said.
“You will when they catch wind of all this feed.”
Good thing I already had a chat with the mice, she thought, unable to hide the smirk on her face. If he’d only been there when she’d found a mouse and told it in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t allow it to ruin her feed. The mass exodus of mice running down the aisle and out into the forest had the horses snorting nervously. But since that day, she hadn’t seen any sign of mice in the barn, and she knew she never would.
CHAPTER TEN
Clara waited until Mason left to check on the horses in the pasture and take them their grain for the night. He turned and waved before he disappeared down the path that went into the woods, and then he was gone.
“Finally,” she said, patting Sunshine on the neck before she walked out of the pasture and made sure the gate was locked.
She loved spending time with Mason, but she’d been at his house since breakfast the day before, and it was almost dinnertime. She was itching to try some spells, and she wasn’t ready to share her secret with Mason.
Hurrying to the house, she locked the door then double locked it with a protection spell, so Mason couldn’t surprise her. She smiled at the thought. She liked Mason’s surprises, but in this case, she needed her privacy. Throwing together a quick casserole, she put dinner in the oven then rushed into the bathroom to take a shower.
She heard the book vibrate on the shelf as she walked past, but she waved it away.
“Soon,” she assured it. “I have to eat first.”
There was a single loud thump of disapproval, but the book remained on the shelf, impatiently waiting for her to return.
“I guess I’m not the only one that missed the magic,” she said with a smile.
She stripped off her clothes and dumped them directly into the small washing machine. She was filthy from head to toe, but with Mason’s help, she’d gotten so many of her chores done that she could take the entire next day off without worry. It was worth the dirt that floated in the water, swirling down the drain into the septic system.
That water would collect, get purified, and once the collection bin was full, get transferred to the collection unit that she would use to water the garden. At first, she’d been skeptical that the water would be safe after she used soap and shampoo in the shower, but after a quick internet search, she found that the water that came out of the garden well was technically drinkable.
She washed her hair and slathered conditioner on it, no longer shocked when she saw the soft reddish tint in the long strands that were once blonde. She hadn’t figured out how to fix her hair yet, and she wasn’t entirely sure that dying it would work.
Can I cover magic up with a boxed dye? Clara had wondered, imagining the worse. Would the dye react to her hair, turning a plain blonde or brown color into something wild and unnatural? She hoped not, but she had learned that, when it came to magic, the worst thing that could happen was often the thing that happened.
When Clara was through, she put on a pair of loose sweats and a t-shirt. She wasn’t planning on going anywhere, and after nearly two whole days without a fire in the hearth, the cabin had a chill to it that had her shivering a little. She was going to have to bite the bullet and build a fire herself, because she knew inviting Mason over to do it would end with them in each other’s arms, and then she wouldn’t get a thing accomplished.
Dinner was ready by the time she was done with her shower, but she was too eager to work with the book to eat. She set the casserole dish on the stove, walking into the living room and going to the bookcase.
She held her hands out and the book flew from the shelf and into her arms. It felt right in her hands, the weight of it like home after being away from the book and her cabin for what seemed like forever.
As it usually did, the book was already opened to a certain page, but a quick skim of the spells told her that nothing on the page was what she was looking for. Like she had the very first time she’d picked the book up, she tried to turn the page to find a Table of Contents, but the pages wouldn’t move, and no matter how hard she tried, the book resisted.
“I want to see the rest of the spells,” she said, her voice strained as she pulled on the pages.
The book didn’t budge, and she pulled so hard that her hand slipped, and she almost hit herself in the face. She grumbled, but the book didn’t seem to care.
“It’s not alive,” she chastised herself. “It doesn’t have feelings.”
The book slammed shut so hard that wind blew her still damp hair back from her face. Flying through the air, the book shoved itself into its place between two other books, leaving Clara standing there, confused.
“I didn’t mean that how that came out,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
I can’t believe I’m apologizing to a book, she said, taking the three steps to the bookcase and reaching out for the book. A shot of electricity zapped her hand, and she pulled away, jumping in surprise at the shock.
“Hey, that’s not nice!” she shouted.
The book still didn’t move, but wh
en she took another step closer, there was a glow, warning her that she would be zapped again if she dared try to touch it.
“You know what, fine. I’ll just eat dinner and practice spells on my own.”
She waited then realized she was waiting for a response from a book as if it could talk. Shaking her head at it all, she gave up on placating the book and sat down to eat her dinner.
While she ate, she tried to remember the spell she’d used when she’d tried to fix her hair. Maybe she could use it to get her hair back to blonde, even without the streaks she’d loved so much. Then, she could go to the salon and have the pastel highlights put in like she’d had before, returning her hair to the way it was when she’d first moved to the mountain a few weeks before.
“Almost three weeks,” she corrected herself, marveling at how it had gone so quickly, yet also feeling like she’d lived there all her life.
It was a strange feeling, but one that made her deliriously happy. Before Bethany’s call, she’d been floating by, trying to figure out what direction her life was going to go and not knowing quite what she wanted to do. Now, she had a purpose, and that purpose would mean that she was a valuable, integral part of a community that would accept her for who she was. It was something she’d never experienced before, and she hoped that they would accept her as easily as she accepted that Mason was a man who could shift into a bear at will.
She took a bite of the casserole, lost in thought and not even noticing the flavor of the meal. She’d noticed several faint bear tracks that Mason hadn’t bothered pointing out. She had a feeling that he didn’t seem to notice them because he didn’t want to give himself away. She didn’t know if he was shifting and going for his midnight walks when she stayed at home, but it was obvious that he was spending several nights a week out in the darkness, exploring the world and his newfound freedom on four paws.
She wanted so badly to tell him that she knew or to “accidentally” catch him, so he would have to tell her. But it wasn’t right to force him, especially when she knew she wouldn’t have appreciated that from him.
“You have to be patient,” she mumbled, finishing the last bite and hand washing the single dish in the sink.
She covered the casserole, put it in the tiny refrigerator, and took inventory of what she had left. She would need to go into town in a couple days, but for now, what she had would last long enough.
She decided that she would try the spell again, but this time, she would stand in front of the aging mirror in the bathroom and see if using a mirror would help her get it right.
“Couldn’t hurt,” she said.
She stood in front of the sink, looking at her strawberry blonde locks one last time and hoping that this would be the last time she was a redhead. Making sure to concentrate on what she was doing, she repeated the words exactly as she remembered them then ran her flat hands over her hair from root to tip, waiting with baited breath to see what happened.
“Nothing happened,” she said when her hair remained the same.
She tilted her head, thinking that a different angle would show something more, but the hair remained the same. Frustrated, she did the spell again, speaking louder and pressing her hands down on her head so hard that it almost hurt. Still, nothing happened.
“This is ridiculous,” she said, angrily grabbing her hairbrush and brushing through her now dry hair with broad sweeping strokes.
Her mouth dropped open and the brush fell from her hand, clattering on the wooden floor as she stared at her reflection.
“No, no, no!” she said, staring in disbelief at the strands that she’d already brushed. They were dark brown with blue highlights, a crazy contrast to the understated red the rest of her hair sported. “This can’t be happening.”
She picked up the brush, slowly drawing it through a section of hair she pulled away from her scalp. Where the brush had already passed, the red hair was nearly black with a bluish tint that reminded her of a raven. She stared at it, tears springing to her eyes as the frustration overwhelmed her.
“This is not what I meant,” she said.
She brushed her hair until it was all the same color, resigning herself to the brunette color until she could figure out how to fix her hair. When she was done, she looked at her reflection, trying not to panic over the change. This was going to be hard to explain.
She decided to braid her hair then go to bed. Maybe her mind would be clearer in the morning.
Or the book will let me open it, and I can try to fix this, she thought, wishing she wouldn’t have said what she did to the book. Not that having the book had helped her to get it right the first time. She was brushing her hair back to start the braid when she noticed something. Leaning forward to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, she was shocked to see that the hair she’d brushed a second time was back to the strawberry blonde color that she’d had before.
“What the hell?” she said, quickly brushing all her hair, shocked when it returned to what had been her normal since she’d first messed up the hair color spell. “Whatever,” she muttered, quickly braiding her hair and leaving the bathroom so she didn’t have to look at her hair anymore.
She decided to skip the fire, climbing into bed and burrowing down beneath the pile of blankets on her bed. She was too tired and too frustrated to mess with building a fire, especially since it was already as cold as it was going to get that night, and she was comfortable enough.
Burying her head all the way up to her nose, she turned on her side and turned the bedside lamp off. She closed her eyes, so tired that she couldn’t even think about everything she had to do the next day. Now that she was ahead of schedule, she wanted to keep the momentum going and get as much done as she could.
A knock at the door startled her as she was about to drop off to sleep. She sighed, knowing that the only person it could be was Mason.
She slipped her shoes on, dragging herself to the door and opening it just a crack.
“Hi,” he said, smiling. “Can I come in?”
She shook her head.
“Too tired,” she said, yawning while she spoke.
“I’m sure you are tired after all that work. What about lunch tomorrow? You can sleep in and we’ll have a picnic by the lake or something.”
“What about a ride?”
“A ride?” he asked, looking confused.
“To the lake. You promised me you would ride with me one day.”
“Oh. I don’t know about tomorrow,” he said, and she could feel his nerves through the cracked door.
She smiled.
“I have a lot of work to do to get ready for my first winter in the cabin.” He opened his mouth to talk, but she stopped him. “Yes, I know, it’s still spring. But the bad weather can creep up on you in the mountains, and I want to be completely prepared.”
“Okay. Can I help you?”
She thought about the book of spells, and all the things that she would be able to do once she learned how to control her powers. She shook her head.
“No. I think I need to do some of this myself, just so I know I can. You were amazing today, and I appreciate your help so very much.”
“Wow,” he said, but he was smiling. “I don’t think I’ve ever been rejected before.”
He was chuckling, and his amusement was genuine.
“It’s not a rejection,” she assured him. “It’s just me saying that I need some time to figure things out on my own. But when you’re ready, I’ll take a break and take a ride with you.”
“Whenever?”
“When you show up ready to ride, we’ll ride. It can be tomorrow, or next week.”
“Okay,” he said.
He started to turn away, but she stopped him.
“One more thing,” she said.
“What?” he asked, but she already had the door open, throwing herself into his arms, giving him a quick kiss and hugging him tight.
“Sweet dreams,” she said, kissing him once mor
e then stepping back into her doorway. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Alright,” he said, amused and confused all at once. “See you soon.”
Clara closed the door and stood with her back pressed against the hard wood, smiling to herself as his footsteps fell on the porch then disappeared when he hit the dirt path. Turning him away was the hardest thing she’d ever done. But she had so much to do, and as long as Mason was around, she’d be too distracted to get things done. He was too handsome for his own good.
And for hers.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Are you sure he's okay with me riding him?" Mason asked, staring at the tall buckskin horse with a bridle on and nothing else.
“Don't tell me you're afraid of horses. Come on, you've been promising me you would ride for almost a month now. You should have mentioned you were afraid long before this because it's too late now.”
“I'm not afraid. I just have a healthy respect for animals that are bigger than me.”
“Sunshine is like a giant puppy dog. He's not going to hurt you, I promise.”
Mason nodded, but Clara could tell he wasn't convinced. She handed the reins to him, the loop already over Sunshine's neck as the patient horse stood by the large boulder just inside the first pasture.
“Do you want me to get on first?” she asked.
“Ladies first.”
“Watch and learn, city boy.”
She stepped onto the boulder and vaulted onto Rain's round back, her landing light as air.
“You make it look so easy,” he said, scowling as he lined Sunshine up to the boulder.
Clara smiled, waiting for Mason to stop talking and get on the horse. She couldn't hide the smirk from her face. Mason was so confident in everything else he did. It was hard to believe that she was so comfortable doing something that he had obviously never done.
“Alright, let's do this,” he said finally, putting his leg over Sunshine's back and sliding on.
Sunshine stood still, waiting for Mason to find his balance.
“It helps if you let your legs hang and relax.”