It Takes Two
Page 27
"Zack?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you."
"Ditto.” He found the hollow in her neck and nuzzled with his lips. “Do you mind if I show you how much?"
"Hmm. Not at all."
He stepped across the threshold with Justine in his arms.
When the door closed on the reunited couple, Mini said in a small voice, “I guess this means we can go home."
Reuben looked at her in surprise. “You don't sound happy about the prospect. I thought that's what you wanted."
This is it, Mini thought. She took her husband's wing and tugged him around to the back of the nesting box. “Come here. I want to show you something.” She hopped in and gestured for him to follow. When he was inside, she brushed the feathers away to reveal the egg.
Reuben gasped and swayed on his skinny legs.
"If you faint and crack this egg, I'll never speak to you again,” Mini warned.
Amazingly, Reuben straightened at her threat. He looked at the egg for a long, long time.
He didn't laugh, as Mini expected. She slowly exhaled, wishing she knew what he was thinking. “I'm going to have three more, I think. After that, it will take a couple of weeks for all of them to hatch. Zack said he and Justine, with Jordan's help, would care for them after they hatch.” She wanted to care for them herself, but she knew she didn't dare hope—
"If you think,” Reuben began so fiercely that Mini stumbled back a step. “That I'm going to let those bumbling mortals take care of our babies, then you are most certainly out of your mind!"
His voice ended in a roar.
Mini tottered. The box began to spin around her. She drooped forward, her last amazed thought before she fainted was that she was going to crack her own egg.
Reuben caught his wife before she could damage the precious egg. He held her in his wings, his tiny heart swelling with love. “Foolish witch,” he murmured tenderly. “Married two hundred years and you still don't know me."
With his wings occupied, he used his toes to cover the exposed egg with the loose feathers. He could have used magic with a twitch of his wingtip, but he didn't.
For some strange reason, it didn't feel right.
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A word about the author...
Sheridon Smythe is the writing team of Sherrie Kelley and Donna Smith. Best friends for over thirty years, they have written five historical romances and several contemporary romances under this pseudonym. Sherrie lives in central Arkansas and has two children and four grandchildren. Donna lives in the bootheel of Missouri and has three children. Her son, Marcus, is currently serving our country. The team enjoys brainstorming together and entertaining their readers with stories they hope will stay with the reader long after they reach
The End.
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You will want to read Three's a Charm,
the next Sheridon Smythe title coming soon from The Wild Rose Press:
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Prologue
"Are you certain you know how to cook this thing?"
Mini Costello slanted a dark look at her husband as she rubbed crushed garlic into the skin of the chicken. “It's just a chicken, Reuben. And yes, I'm certain that I know what I'm doing. We went through this step by step in cooking class. I even took notes.” She indicated the index card on the counter with a nod of her head, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Have a look—the instructions are so simple even a spoiled witch can follow them."
Ignoring the card and her smart comment, Reuben sidled closer, his silk pajamas whispering as he moved. He caught a whiff of butter, garlic, and lemon. His mouth watered. “Will it taste as good as something we could have conjured?” he persisted, swiping his finger against the chicken.
Mini caught his finger—a once powerful finger that could have flashed the chicken to perfection in seconds—before it reached his mouth. “It has to be cooked, darling. You'll get sick.” Forcefully, she brought his hand down and held his finger beneath the running faucet. “There's this bacteria called Salmonella. It causes food poisoning in mortal bodies."
"Did you learn this in cooking class?"
"Yes.” When she deemed his finger clean, she kissed the sensitive flesh before letting go, her appreciative gaze lingering over his fine, handsome features. He kept his shoulder-length hair, as raven black as her own, tied at the neck in a neat ponytail; it gleamed in the fluorescent lighting overhead from his recent shower.
Yet beneath his outward air of bravado, Mini knew her arrogant ex-warlock was frightened of this mortal world. “We're doing fine, husband. We really are. We have an apartment—"
"More like a hovel."
"—food to eat,” Mini continued stubbornly. “Clothes, good health, and friends. We're luckier than a lot of mortals."
Reuben wasn't in the mood to be pacified. “If we don't find a job soon, we'll be without those things. The allowance the witches’ council so graciously provided is nearly gone."
"We'll find a job,” Mini assured him. She finished rubbing the chicken and placed it in the oven, checking the card for the required temperature setting. When she straightened, she found Reuben watching her with an odd light in his coal black eyes.
She knew that look. “Something on your mind?"
Slowly, he nodded, crossing his ankles and leaning against the counter. “I'm wondering why you put up with me."
He was serious, Mini thought. They'd been married over two hundred years, and he could ask that question. “Because I love you,” she said simply. “I couldn't let you go through this alone. Losing your magic was a hard enough blow."
His eyes darkened further. “You do realize that when you gave up your powers to join me, it might be forever?"
It was Mini's turned to nod, but she followed it with a shrug. “We've made it a month living as mortals; we can make it forever if we have to.” She resisted the urge to offer comfort, sensing her proud husband was struggling with his pride. Instead, she reached for the plates above the sink. “If I had been the one with Jestark that night, would you have abandoned me when the witches’ council took my powers?"
Reuben's dark brows lowered ominously. “I wasn't the one who revealed myself to that poor mortal woman. If I had known what Jestark was about, I would have stopped him."
"I know, but you have to see this from the council's point of view. You were with Jestark—"
"He's my friend!"
Mini closed her eyes and counted to ten. Anytime the subject arose, her husband became defensive. “Jestark is a warlock, and although you willing forfeited your warlock status when you married a good witch, the council knows Jestark makes a hobby out of performing mean, spiteful tricks on mortals. So, the fact that you were with him—"
"Makes me an accessory,” Reuben finished. For a moment, his jaw hardened. Finally, he heaved a fatalistic sigh. Although he'd never admit it to them, he could understand how the council might have thought he was involved. Why, he asked himself for the thousandth time, did he let Jestark challenge him into going with him that night? Now, not only was he forced to live without the powers he'd always taken for granted, so was his beautiful, loyal wife.
This bothered Reuben more than anything, and he was determined Mini wouldn't suffer because of his misjudgment.
Which meant he needed to find what the mortals called “a job,” and soon.
"Will you set the table?"
He snapped out of his reverie with a jolt. Obligingly, he took the plates and utensils and turned in the direction of the table.
He froze.
Smack dab in the middle of the tiny dining table crouched their “protector,” a homely-looking cat with glittering gold eyes.
The witch's council had insisted on sending the familiar; they were angry, but not insensitive. As mortals, Mini and Reuben were vulnerable in ways they'd never been as witches.
Reuben hesitated, clutching the plates against his chest and wondering again if the counci
l had known how he felt about...animals, cats in particular. Was this another form of punishment? Would he never cease to pay for that one impulsive night cavorting with his old friend Jestark?
"What—” Mini caught sight of the orange cat. The feline leisurely groomed her whiskers. “Reuben, she's sitting on an open newspaper,” Mini whispered, grabbing his arm in her urgency.
He failed to comprehend. “Still, it's quite unsanitary—"
"She's trying to tell us something!"
"Then why doesn't she just talk?"
"I'm sure she has her reasons,” Mini muttered evasively. She knew the reason, but it wasn't something she cared to share with Reuben just yet. Let him get used to the idea of having a cat around before she revealed the familiar's identity. “Let's see what's in the paper."
Gently pushing him forward, they approached the table. The cat glanced up, let out a satisfied meow, and leaped onto the floor.
The paper lay open to the want ads section.
Mini saw the claw marks circling a single announcement. Excited, she grabbed the paper and read aloud; “Happily married couple needed to interview clients for dating service. No experience needed."
With a squeal, she twirled with the paper. “Reuben! This is it! We're a happily married couple—and a dating service? Oh, it's too good to be true!"
"You're probably right,” Reuben grumbled, still thinking about the cat. There was something familiar about those strange, yellow-gold eyes, and the gaudy orange fur, but he couldn't put his useless finger upon it.
"We can help match mortal people with their soul mates, and perhaps gain approval from the council."
"I wouldn't wager—"
"Oh, don't be such a pessimist,” Mini scolded, grinning happily. “Eventually, they'll have to notice our good deeds, and when they do, we can plead for a lighter sentence."
Reuben crossed his arms over his chest in a familiar, stubborn stance. “I'll not plead with that bunch of narrow-minded, wrinkled, wart-nosed hags."
Mini dropped the paper and wound her arms around his stiff neck. Her lips nuzzled his throat until she found his pulse. It begin to hammer wildly. “Oh, but you will, husband,” she purred, “because I miss making love on a pillow of clouds right before a storm, or on dew-moistened heather in Scotland at sunrise."
Reuben groaned and admitted defeat.
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