CHAPTER NINE
She woke up as the sun’s rays were streaming through the window. Stretching, she rolled over and smiled at Mason.
“How come every time I wake up, you’re staring at me?”
“I like watching you sleep,” he said, kissing her and pushing the top of the blanket away to reveal one naked breast. “You sleep over so seldom that I have to enjoy it when I can.”
She slapped his hand away, giggling.
“This is the fourth time in a week and a half.”
“So, you understand why I haven’t had my fill yet.”
She shook her head, slipping out of bed and jumping just out of his grasp, laughing when he made a face.
“I could catch you,” he said, winking.
“I would like that, but not today. I have things to do.”
“Like what?” he asked, propping himself on his elbow and watching her get dressed.
“I have hay to pick up for the winter.”
“It’s still spring,” he said.
“I know, but I talked to Gerald at the feed store, and they have a fresh cut coming in today, so I ordered some hay.”
Mason sat up, the blanket sliding down to reveal his smooth chest and pooling around his hips.
“They’re not bringing it up the mountain, are they?” he asked, trying to keep his alarm down.
“No. I’m going into town with the trailer to get it.” She smiled when he visibly relaxed. “I could use some help.”
“Give me a few minutes to get ready, and I’ll go with you.”
“Great,” she said. “I’ll whip up some breakfast and meet you downstairs.”
“Now that sounds wonderful.”
She kissed him quickly then headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. Rummaging through the well-stocked refrigerator, she grabbed the eggs, biscuits, and some fresh fruit she’d cut up for dinner the night before. When she heard the shower turn on upstairs, she smiled. There was nothing like Mason behind the clear glass doors, soap and water dripping down his body as he tried to wake up in the morning. After years of being dependent on coffee to get through his workday, Mason had given it up in favor of waking up with the sun and finding other ways to face the day renewed.
It was not going well.
“At least it’s better than last week,” she laughed as she cracked the eggs one by one into the frying pan.
The week before had been his first coffee-free week, and it didn’t take any type of special powers to know that he wasn’t dealing with it well—at least, not in the hours before lunch.
She knew she had time while he was in the shower, so she set the spoon in the pan, took her index finger and swung it in a little circle. The spoon began stirring on its own, and after watching it for a few seconds to make sure the easy spell wasn’t going to go awry, she put the biscuits in the oven and turned her attention to the gravy.
“It smells delicious,” he said from behind her, startling her as he came around the corner.
The spoon in the eggs fell sideways, but Clara managed to catch the handle before it fell into the nearly formed scrambled eggs.
She felt his lips on the back of her neck beneath her ponytail, but he didn’t say a word about the magic spoon. Trying to hide her nervousness, she handed him the egg spoon and he finished them up.
She opened her mind to him, but there was nothing but happiness and the lingering grumpiness that he’d gotten so good at keeping under wraps in the morning. There was no hint of surprise or wonder about the magic spoon, so she was sure he hadn’t noticed it.
He dished up both their plates and they had a quick breakfast in the little nook where the morning light streamed in and warmed their bodies while they ate.
When they finished, he grabbed her plate before she could stop him, whisking the dirty dishes away into the kitchen while she finished her orange juice and watched a small herd of deer enjoying some grass at the other end of Mason’s yard.
Most of Mason’s acreage surrounding the house was open grasslands, the forest trees at the far end of sight in some places. It really was a magical place, and the deer only enhanced that feeling of wonder as they did nothing more than munch away in the early morning sunlight. One by one, more deer emerged, until there were over a dozen at the forest’s edge.
They stared at the house and even though she knew they wouldn’t be able to see through the glass with the sun’s light reflecting off the east facing windows, she knew they were looking at her. Her energy called to them. She didn’t know whether it was because she was a witch or because she was the witch, the last living daughter of a long line of witches who had called this mountain home for generations.
“Are you ready?” he asked, holding his hand out to her.
“That’s the second time you sneaked up on me this morning,” she said, taking his hand and stepping into his embrace.
“Did I scare you?”
“No.”
“I’ll try harder,” he said.
She laughed and pulled out of his grasp, punching him playfully on the arm.
“You’re a mess,” she said.
“And you like it,” he countered. “Come on, let’s get this hay picked up and loaded. Do you need to take the horse trailer?”
“No,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Good. I’ll go start unhooking the trailer if you want to pull the truck forward when I’m done.”
They left the house, and she climbed into the truck, waiting until he gave the signal and pulling the truck forward slowly until he told her to stop. She watched him work, securing the unhitched trailer then jumping into the passenger seat of her truck.
“I’m surprised you didn’t insist on driving,” she teased as she guided the truck along the steep road and down the mountain.
“I like this better,” he said, sliding over to the center seat and putting his arm around her. “I just don’t want to distract you too much.”
“Pfft,” she exclaimed, looking at him in the review mirror so she could keep her eyes on the treacherous road.
He threw his head back and laughed, kissing her on the cheek.
“Somehow, I thought you would’ve had more to say than that. Is it possible that I’ve rendered you speechless?”
“Not even close.”
He moved his hand to her thigh when they hit the highway and headed toward Little Hope, but she made no move to stop him. She’d noticed over the last few days that if Mason was within reach of her, his hand was on her. She wasn’t sure if it was always a conscious decision, but she loved it.
Despite their rough start, he was affectionate and kind, and he never missed an opportunity to help her when she was working on the cabin or the barn. They’d gotten close once he’d given up on the idea of her leaving the mountain and selling her land to him. The change was like night and day. This Mason, the real Mason, was nothing like the man she’d met just a few weeks before.
When they pulled into the feed store parking lot, she hopped out of the truck, and Mason followed right behind her. There was a man working in the lot, loading up the last of a feed order into an older, battered pickup truck.
“I can load it up for you if you want, Miss Finch,” the man said.
“Thanks, Tom,” Clara said, handing over her truck keys.
Mason held her hand as they walked into the store, so Clara could pay her feed bill.
“You’re on a first name basis with everyone here?”
“I come here a lot. I’m trying to stock up for the winter months, but I can only unload so much by myself at a time. I’ve almost got enough grain to last six months, and this hay should carry me through until next spring.”
“You should probably pick up a barn cat while you’re here to keep the mice at bay. They usually have kittens around this time.”
“It will be fine,” she reassured him.
“If you say so,” he grumbled lightheartedly.
“Good morning, Clara,” a man said boisterously from behind the counter. “Here to pick up your load?”
“Yes.”
“It’s already on the trailer.”
“Great. How much do I owe you?”
“Twenty-eight for the hay, and fifteen for the trailer.”
“The trailer?” Mason asked, watching Clara write out a check for forty-three hundred dollars. “Whoa, how much hay did you buy?”
“I bought a trailer load and the trailer,” she said simply, handing over the check and waving goodbye to Gerald, leaving Mason to catch up or stand there, still scratching his head.
Tom had already pulled the truck around by the time they got to the parking lot. She heard Mason whistle through his teeth.
“I thought you were getting a couple of bales. What are there, three hundred bales between the bed of the truck and the trailer?”
“Right about that.”
“How did you plan on loading all this in the loft before I agreed to help?”
She shrugged.
“They only weigh about eighty pounds. I was going to do a little at a time until I was tired, then hit it again after I rested.”
“You’re insane,” he said, shaking his head as he got into the truck.
“I’m not the one who got suckered into helping me with the hay,” she shot back.
He shrugged and smiled.
“What can I say? I can’t resist you when you’re naked.”
“Or when I’m dressed.”
“Or when you’re cooking,” he said, leaning over and kissing her neck.
“Stop, I’m trying to drive.”
“You like it.”
“That’s not the point,” she said, guiding the truck down the highway and trying to focus on what she was doing and not the need that was already growing inside her.
How could you already want him again? Clara wondered to herself. They’d made love off and on the entire night, finally falling asleep in Mason’s king-sized bed. Every time he’d invited her over for dinner since that first night by the fire, it had been much of the same, and Clara had enjoyed every minute of it.
Even now, when his attention distracted her on the deserted road, she was thinking about the next night she’d stay over and wondering if they would ever tire of making love, or if their friendship would cross over into deeper territory. Clara was up for it all, but she could already feel herself falling for him, and she knew that in a few weeks, friends with benefits wouldn’t be—
He kissed her neck again, ripping her from her thought. When he did it again, she scowled at him.
“Do I need to pull this truck over?”
“You could,” he said. “The back seat is pretty roomie.”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed at him then.
“I need to get things done today, but maybe some other time,” she said.
“Don’t say I didn’t offer to rock your world.”
Shaking her head, she leaned against him, one hand on the wheel, her heart on her sleeve. She was falling hard, and she didn’t think that Mason had any idea how much his touch affected her. She wanted nothing more than to spend each day wrapped in his arms, but mountain living was hard, and there were things that needed to be done while the weather was still good.
When she finally pulled up to the top of the mountain, she took the road she’d worked on, careful to stay well between the trees so she didn’t damage the tree canopy that covered it.
“You did a good job on this road,” Mason said.
“Thank you. There are still a few places that need to be watched, but if I maintain it a few times a month leading into the fall and winter, it should stay pretty decent.”
“I don’t think I ever told you, but I appreciate your help in getting all this ready. You didn’t have to smooth out the road or do any of the other things you’ve been doing, but you did them anyway, and I haven’t really thanked you.”
“This is my home too, and even though I’m not part of your colony, I’m still going to be your neighbor. I want to make sure that I do my part.”
“Because when we all pitch in, we all benefit?”
“I guess I’ve said that a few times.”
“You have, but I love that about you. You don’t sit around and wait for a man to do the hard work for you. You’re strong and independent, but you’re also a team player. I can’t tell you how valuable you are in a place like this.”
She carefully pulled into the barn aisle until the front end of the truck was sticking out the door opposite of the one she’d driven through to get into the barn.
“You serve your purpose, too,” she said, winking at him.
“So, what’s the plan here?” he asked, looking at the hayloft that was over ten feet off the ground and could only be accessed by ladders.
“I have enough hay over their stalls to last them through the end of the summer, so we’re going to stack the hay over the two empty stalls and over the storage rooms. Anything we have left will go over their stalls, and if we still have something left, then I’ll move the four-wheeler into the far end of the aisle and use that stall for hay, feeding them that first.”
“Sounds like a plan. How did you get all that other hay in the lofts?”
“One bale at a time.”
She didn’t have an answer for that, or at least, not an answer that would satisfy him without making him suspicious, so she decided to change the subject before he questioned her further.
“There are gloves in the door on your side that should fit. I bought an extra pair and didn’t realize they were men’s sizes. Do you want to toss them to me from the bed of the truck and the trailer, or do you want to stack them?”
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.