Witching You Weren’t Snowed In (Witching You #2)

Chapter 7

Leo

The microwave beeped, and I carried my turkey dinner to the lobby, dropping the plastic dish onto the reservation counter. Gravy puddled around the mashed potatoes and steam rose from the small scoop of stuffing. It looked edible, but far from the home-cooked meal I longed for. Then again, I had to make do with what was in the freezer aisle.

We only had a couple of rooms booked and we closed the lifts early, so I sent the staff home for the holiday, planning to man the hotel myself. No one questioned the strange, last-minute cancellation of my dinner plans. Because they knew the truth. My big, fancy Thanksgiving dinner was about as real as my mashed potatoes.

There was no baked brie and no mozzarella Caprese. No one wanted to share a meal with the man who ruined the town.

My father was overseas with his mistress, and my mother had checked herself into a spa for an extended stay of exfoliation and seaweed wraps, as she did for most holidays. That left me to the microwaveable feast cooling on the counter .

I checked my phone and loaded my fork with a chunk of rubbery turkey. Sage hadn’t responded to my offer. I’d decided to call it that because the term blackmail bothered me.

What didn’t bother me these days? It was hard to stay positive in the face of so much negativity. I never expected to return home, hoping for a clean slate, only to spend the holidays alone in my empty ski lodge.

Been there, already bought the T-shirt.

Maybe this was a mistake. Both coming home and buying this frozen dinner. Rock bottom—it turns out—is just a lake of gelatinous turkey gravy.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

I paused, the fork suspended in the air as Sage’s voice echoed through the lobby. She dusted fresh snow from her jacket and peered at the vaulted ceilings. Then she did a slow circle, admiring the polished hardwood floors, oversized sofas in front of the hearth, and finally the giant stone fireplace. Her gaze remained fixed on the vintage skis I’d mounted over the mantel.

A smile touched her lips.

It faded slightly, taking a bit of my hope with it when she spotted me standing behind the reservation counter.

“Oh. I thought you’d be out to dinner. I tried texting, but the service in this town stinks. If I was staying, I’d switch providers. Maybe get a satellite phone. I hear they work well in the mountains.” She cleared her throat; cheeks flushing their telltale pinkish hue. Removing her mittens, she reached into the canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder and removed a folded piece of paper. “Sorry. I’m rambling. I was going to leave you a note.”

Notes were bad news. No one wanted a note. I hadn’t expected her to turn me down, and now I faced the realization I never had any leverage because I had no intention of revealing her secret. Some blackmailer I turned out to be.

She stepped up to the counter but didn’t hand over the paper. Instead, she furrowed her brow and stared at my dinner. Nope —This was officially rock bottom. Beneath the lake of gelatinous gravy was a sandy bed of shame where people you care about discover you’re eating Thanksgiving dinner alone.

“It’s not what it looks like,” I quipped, tossing back the same phrase she’d said when I caught her in the antique shop.

“It never is, is it?” Her hand dipped into the canvas bag a second time and she pulled out a large plastic container. Setting it on the counter, she removed the lid. “I felt bad for whoever was stuck working the reservation desk, so I grabbed some leftovers. My dad makes a mean turkey, and my mom handles the sweet potatoes.”

“What did you make?” I asked, my voice unusually hoarse.

She pointed to the thick dollop of jellied berries. “The cranberry sauce. I promise it’s not from a can.”

She could have popped it out of a can and sliced it into cubes, and it was still going to be the best thing I’d ever eaten. But homemade? There were no words.

“Here, I’ll save you a trip to the microwave.”

She walked over to the hearth and held her hands in front of the flames. The warm glow of the fire flickered over her slender frame and made her blonde hair gleam. Years had passed, and I found I was still as drawn to her as I’d always been. It wasn’t difficult to imagine our lives turning out another way. But this wasn’t one of those sappy holiday movies where a glimpse into an alternate future was enough to fix the past.

After a minute, she returned and placed her palms around the plastic container until steam rose from the inside. “It’s the witchy version of heat conduction. Careful, it’s hot.”

I speared a piece of turkey and slid it through the cranberry sauce. My eyes widened at the first bite, and I had to control a groan of pleasure. How could such a simple combination of food taste like a feeling?

Slow down…savor it.

“I remember your warming trick. Your toes were freezing, and you warmed your boots after each ski lesson. I wouldn’t let you touch mine.”

“Because you thought I was going to melt the bindings!”

I shrugged. “They were expensive.”

The room settled into a restless quiet while I ate the leftovers. Our memories were a minefield. Watch your step or one might explode in your face.

Sage wandered the lobby, examining the finer details of my attempt at renovation, while I watched her, wondering when she was going to reveal her hand.

I wanted to know what she thought of the place. If she would have done anything different. Had I done the lodge justice? And most of all, would she believe me if I told her I hated the way things ended between us ?

But I stayed quiet and savored the sweet potatoes, afraid if I asked the wrong question, she might leave.

The last bite came too quickly, like most good things, ending far before you were ready. Sage approached the counter.

“I don’t suppose you have any pie in that magic bag of yours?” I asked, half-joking, half the most serious I’d ever been in my life.

She rolled her eyes, and I nearly fell over when she removed a second container with a single slice of pumpkin pie.

“You’re greedy, you know that?”

“Comes with being a small-town degenerate. I can’t help myself.”

Flattening her lips into a thin line, she collected the empty container and put it back inside her bag. A few bites of pie and this whole charade would be over. I was almost afraid to finish it.

But then she surprised me.

“I decided I’m in. I accept your obvious attempt at blackmail.”

“Offer,” I clarified, determined to keep that unsavory word off the table.

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

I nodded, challenging her over a forkful of pie.

“Fine. Then I accept your offer. ”

I couldn’t believe the plan had worked. For the first time since I’d arrived home, I might have a chance to turn things around .

“Great!” I said, disbelief lingering in my tone. “Welcome to Team Villain. We wear black on Wednesdays and chisel candy canes into shivs.”

Sage shook her head, trying her best to keep a straight face. “Nice. I love arts and crafts. What days do we sing toxic Christmas carols and burn gingerbread cookies?”

I grinned, not bothering to hide my satisfaction, and slid over the empty pie dish. “I’ll check the calendar.”

Another awkward silence stretched between us as if we didn’t know whether we should slip back into our old ways or keep our distance. Sage shuffled her feet and opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again with a nervous breath.

“Do you…want a cup of coffee?” I asked, gesturing to the coffee station I’d refreshed on the off chance a guest stopped in the lobby. “Salt-free. I swear. Though I have a heavy hand with the grinds, so it might be a little strong.”

“Um. Yeah, okay.” She hesitated for a second, then dove into action, preparing two steaming cups. “I should let you know what you’re in for. I put together a plan to help save the lodge, but I’ll need your approval.”

“What’s your idea?” I took one of the coffee cups and rounded the reservation desk to claim a spot on the sofa. Sage sat at the other end of the couch, crossing her legs beneath her. There was an empty span of upholstery between us, but it was a start.

“I went over all the options. Since Team Villain can’t use a nefarious device to brainwash everyone, the only way to heal your rift with the town this season is to fix the past. You’ve spent all of your energy restoring the lodge. Now we have to restore their faith.” Sage pulled out her phone and opened a file, then zoomed in. “I reviewed the resort’s property survey online, and right here—” She tapped the screen. “Is the perfect place to rebuild the skating rink and the gazebo. What do you think?”

Excitement gleamed in her eyes, but my stomach dropped. It was the perfect plan. Restoring the rink and building the gazebo would bring in more tourists and families to the resort. The gazebo specifically would be great for outdoor events and private parties. Both features would increase revenue while bringing back a memorable pastime. The downside was it cost money I didn’t have.

“Are you sure you don’t know any coercion spells? Because I can’t afford to rebuild the rink. I can handle the gazebo if nobody minds a DIY project. But there isn’t a budget for anything else.”

Sage’s features softened. “I had a feeling finances might be an issue. My parents mentioned you’ve been doing most of the work yourself. Honestly, the place looks great. Remember, there used to be holes in the wall over there?” Sage pointed to where I’d arranged small tables for guests to have drinks in front of the windows. “And it was so drafty! The carpet always smelled like wet feet, and someone had the bright idea to use plaid wallpaper by the reservation desk.”

“Yeah, the wallpaper was awful, and the radiator never worked right. If you didn’t sit close enough to the fireplace to test the flammability statement on your jacket, you’d freeze. ”

Sage nodded and sipped her coffee. “Which is why I always had to warm my boots.” Her gaze returned to the mantel where I’d hung the skis. “I remember those, too. They look like the pair your great-grandfather had.”

“I can’t believe you recognize them.”

“Well, you dragged me through a lesson on the history of skiing with an extensive portion of show and tell. It was so boring , but also kind of endearing. You’re a bit of a ski nerd.”

“There is no such thing!”

She scooted closer, closing the expansive upholstery gap. “There is too.” Our eyes held for a long moment before the teasing glint slipped from her gaze. She looked away and self-consciously rubbed the back of her neck. “Um. Anyways. Back to the point. Even if you had the money to burn and wanted to build both attractions on your own, it’s not the way. You want the town to feel like they’re involved. Bringing the community together for this project is as important as where it’s located. Which is why I’m proposing a series of fundraisers.”

A rough laugh escaped my throat. “They’d throw cupcakes in my face if I tried to host a bake sale.”

“Oh, you will not be baking. I saw your attempt at a turkey dinner. Leave the fundraising to me. All you have to do is show up.” She leaned in, resting her elbows on her knees. Her blonde hair brushed softly against her shoulders, and the fire warmed the splash of freckles across her cheeks. “Trust me, Leo.”

My fingers pressed into my palm before I did the unthinkable and defied the remaining space between us .

“I trust you,” I said, not sure if I trusted myself.

Sage exhaled a heavy breath, her nervous smile returning. She leaned back, breaking the spell, and checked the time on her phone. The room felt colder; ice flowing into the crack that had fractured our connection.

“I have to go. I slipped away while my parents were in a turkey coma.” She reached into her pocket to remove the note she’d written for me and tapped the folder paper. “Inside are directions. Meet me at that location first thing on Saturday morning. No excuses. No complaints. You asked for my help. Remember that.”

I lifted my hands, palms out, in defense. “You’re the professional. I’ll concede to your wisdom.”

She finished her coffee and handed me the empty cup. “Bring my trophy with you, and you better keep your end of the bargain. We made a deal.”

“Consider it done.”

Sage grabbed her bag and put on her mittens before heading toward the door. “Oh, and one other thing. Have your assistant send me your clothing measurements.”

“Why?” I asked, suspicion thick in my voice. “Are you planning to knit me one of those ugly Christmas sweaters? Is that our new team uniform?”

Sage flashed me a smile that was mostly teeth. “You’ll have to wait and see, partner. Happy Thanksgiving!”