“I disagree. Joselyn has as much a say in this as I do.”

  “So you’re saying she doesn’t want to have children?”

  An uncomfortable silence falls in the room. The one time Joselyn and I talked about children, it was in a very general way. It was when I told her, based on my past, I had decided never to marry, that it was better for me to be alone.

  Now she’s my wife.

  “I’m sure Joselyn would like to be a mother one day.” And I want to give her everything she wants…

  Ms. Nelly’s eyes soften, and she places a hand on my arm. “You certainly can afford it, and Joselyn is a loving, healthy woman. I’m sure she’d be a fine mother. So what’s the problem?”

  A pit is in my stomach, and I lift my eyes to meet hers. “Me.”

  I don’t open up to people as a general rule, but there’s something about this old woman in her cave of antiques with her warm eggnog on the stove and her gentle touch. She’s neither the cold dragon who raised me, nor the murderous sperm-donor I don’t call my father.

  Her lips press together and she takes another sip of eggnog. I notice my tumbler is empty, and I wonder if the whiskey has lowered my inhibitions. “You don’t seem like such a problem to me.”

  “You don’t know me very well. I haven’t had good role models.” It’s as much as I’ll allow.

  “From what I’ve seen, you have enough kindness and generosity in you to make up for whatever scars you’re hiding.” She leans forward and gives my hand a squeeze. “And Joselyn has enough for the rest. Don’t postpone your happiness until it’s too late.”

  CHAPTER 2

  HOLIDAY TRAPPING

  JOSELYN

  “The virgin is wired.” Scout is excited as he loads up a plate with two scoops of Sly’s specialty mac and cheese and two of Mom’s pre-Christmas chicken salad sandwiches.

  Mom playfully slaps his arm. “Don’t be rude.”

  “He’s not kidding, Mom!” I jump to his defense. “We planted a nanny-cam in Mary’s head and we put out Baby Jesus. We figured he’s the grand prize they won’t be able to resist, and that’s how we’ll get them.”

  “It all sounds very Mission Impossible to me.” Ms. Alice scoots up beside me and grabs a sandwich.

  She’s my mom’s best friend, Scout’s grandmother, the former librarian of Fireside, and a founding member of the Fireside Ladies Club.

  Needless to say, she’s old as dirt.

  I lean down to whisper in her ear, “I just hope it works. We’re going to be in big trouble if those bandits make off with the star of the Christmas show, and we don’t catch them.”

  Ms. Alice nods. “Let me know if we need to haul out the big guns.”

  Scout goes to where my very pregnant cousin sits in the den and shares his plate. The door opens, and my heart flutters when Spencer breezes into the room looking like he stepped out of the pages of Esquire. He’s always impeccably dressed, with his dark hair flopping attractively over his brow. Only he looks like he’s returned from the scene of an accident.

  “Phew, hold my arm, I might faint.” Ms. Alice catcalls under her breath. “That man could set the chicken on fire.”

  “It’s cold.” I elbow her, fighting a grin.

  “Spencer, Merry Christmas.” Mom goes over and gives my husband a brief hug. “Would you like me to fix you a plate? A glass of wine? I opened a few whites for the chicken salad, but I have a pinot or would you rather a whiskey—”

  “Thank you, Regina, I’m sure what you have is fine.” He briefly returns her hug before leveling those stormy eyes on mine.

  A flutter hits my core, and I can’t help thinking about all the delicious things that man can do to me, especially when he’s all riled up. He closes the space between us, and Ms. Alice gives me a wink and a nod.

  “Who needs chicken salad when you’ve got hot sausage?”

  A snort breaks through my attempts to be serious, and I put my plate on the bar to give him a hug. “You okay? You seem a little distracted. Ms. Nelly not like her vase?”

  “She’s saving the gift for Christmas.” He looks in my eyes a moment longer than usual and slides a finger across my cheek. “The children always get all the gifts at her house.”

  “Oh, sure. She’s a grandmother, I get it.” I nod, returning to the bar and my plate. “Want some of my special mac and cheese?”

  “Sure,” his voice is quiet as he adds, “Whatever you want.”

  I can’t imagine what’s on his mind, but my best friend Courtney bustles through the door at that moment with Ollie and Tom right behind her. As soon as Oliver sees my guy, he dashes across the room to grab Spencer’s hand.

  “Did you give the old lady her Christmas present? You missed out on the trap we set. Uncle Scout has a camera in Mary’s face. We’re for sure going to catch them this time. We can watch Baby Jesus every minute with this app on his phone—”

  Courtney calls from where she’s unwrapping a plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Oliver, let Spencer have his dinner before you talk him to death.”

  “He’s fine.” Spencer pats Ollie’s shoulder, giving him a smile. “I see you’re excited.”

  I remember when I told Spencer I could tell when Oliver was excited because he talked so much and so loudly. Spencer had quipped it was every little boy’s tell.

  Even though we haven’t talked about it since that night in his study, I know Spencer will make a great dad, even if he thinks he won’t. He’s worried because his biological father was an abuser who is now in prison, and his adoptive dad was an old miser who never showed him any love.

  But Spencer’s not like either of those men.

  Well, except when we first met, and he was completely cold and distant to me… And then later when Courtney’s ex was menacing us, and Spencer went after him… I’m pretty sure he might’ve killed the man when he saw my black eye, but that was all understandable behavior.

  Melody pushes between us, grabbing Oliver’s arm. “Come on, Ollie! Let Ironman eat. Daddy says we can watch his phone for any signs of prowlers!”

  “Okay!” The little boy takes off, and Spencer watches him a moment before my mom slips a whiskey in his hand. “See what you think of that. Bushmill’s. Black Bush.”

  “Thanks.” He takes the glass, looking down at it a moment before lifting his gaze to mine. “I think the old lady got in my head.”

  “Ms. Nelly?” I trace my fingernails along his hairline. “How in the world did she do that?”

  His eyes tighten, and he almost smiles but doesn’t. “We can talk about it later.”

  “Either way, you were still very sweet to find that special vase and take it to her. Don’t think I’ve forgotten it.” Rising on my tiptoes, I kiss his lips before heading into the main room where everyone’s talking loudly and laughing.

  The kids are huddled around Scout’s phone watching the nativity on night vision. Ms. Alice slips up and puts her hand in my arm, speaking close to my ear. “If all else fails, we can meet up tomorrow with the book.”

  I know exactly what she means. “The Fireside Ladies’ book?”

  “They have a spell for everything. Don’t think they don’t have one for this.”

  I’d expect nothing less.

  As my mother always said, we’re descended from a long line of witches, and by witches, she means women who aren’t afraid to get shit done.

  Every time we’ve felt like we had nowhere to turn or we were backed into a corner, the Fireside Ladies always come through.

  We’ve just stepped through the door of the bed and breakfast we’ve rented for the holiday weekend when I clutch the lapels of Spencer’s blazer, pushing his back to the wall.

  His eyes darken. “What are you doing?”

  Rising on my tiptoes, I speak in his ear, close enough that my lips brush the shell. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

  I kiss him briefly, sliding my tongue along the seam of his lips before dropping to my knees and scratching my nails along the growing bulge in his pants.

  “Joselyn…” He groans.

  Kissing him has the essence of whiskey on my tongue, and I know something’s troubling him. I also know how to ease his mind.

  “You’ve been so good today, my beast.” Reaching up, I unfasten his belt, quickly unbuttoning his pants and lowering the fly. “First to Ms. Nelly…” I kiss the lengthening rod through the fabric of his black boxer briefs. “Then to Oliver…”

  “You’re so beautiful.” He slides his fingers along my cheek, sweeping my hair away as he watches me, mesmerized.

  Hooking my fingers in the waistband of his briefs, I lower them, allowing his cock to bob out, pointing straight at me, so thick and hard and long. A bead is on the tip, and I grasp his shaft, sliding my tongue along the edges.

  “Mm…” I hum before pulling the tip between my lips.

  Salt is on my tongue, and he groans as I let it pop out, sucking a line under the head, feeling his body jerk in response. Scratching my fingernails up his thighs, I tease his balls, making him groan loudly and my pussy flutter.

  In a flash, I’m off the floor. He lifts me under the arms, turning my body so my chest is pressed against the wall.

  “I need to be inside you.” His voice is at my back.

  Shivers skate down my legs as he jerks up my skirt and rips my thong away. I barely have a moment to gasp an Oh! before his thick member drives hard into my dripping core.

  “Oh, fuck me,” he whispers thickly, thrusting harder.

  His hands fumble with my cashmere sweater, up and down, searching for my breasts, which are straining beneath the fabric. My nipples are peaked, and I pull the garment over my head. I haven’t even lowered my arms before he shoves my bra higher, allowing my full breasts to spill out into his hands.

  I used to be self-conscious about my body. I worried I was too soft, my breasts were too big, but Spencer makes me feel like a gorgeous pin-up. He devours my flesh, savoring my curves as he eagerly fucks me.

  “God, you make me so hard.” It’s a hot growl at my neck as his hips slam into me from behind. “You want my cock?”

  “Yes…” My head drops back, and I brace my hands against the wall, arching my back as he pulls at my nipples, biting the side of my neck before sliding his lips higher into my hair.

  “That’s it, baby. Take it all. Tell me how much you love it.”

  “I love your cock.”

  He’s panting and groaning, and electricity zips up my legs as my orgasm tightens in my belly. One of his hands slips between my thighs, and he circles my clit hard and fast, making my knees turn to liquid.

  My eyes squeeze shut as the muscles in my pelvis quiver. My inner thighs are slick with our juices, and he grunts and thrusts into me like an animal. His fervor has my pussy burning, until I’m rising on my toes. My fingers curl against the wall, and I see stars as I break with a wail, coming so hard.

  “That’s it baby. Come on my dick.” His thrusts drive into me, three more times until he holds and comes. “Fuck... oh fuck.”

  His cock is so big, I feel it pulse inside me, and I clench in response. We’re both panting, sweaty and still, and his hand tightens on my breast. It’s all so damn perfect.

  “Shit.” I collapse forward against the wall with a smile. “You are so good at that.”

  He chuckles deeply at my back. “You make me crazy. And these tits.”

  His hands caress my breasts as we slowly fumble back to the planet after that crazy high. He rolls me to the side, burying his face against my neck, inhaling deeply before kissing me.

  I love the feel of his mouth against my skin. I love his warm, hard body covering mine.

  Lifting my chin, a lazy smile curls my lips as I blink up at the ceiling. “I’m glad you finally stopped fighting and asked me to marry you.”

  My fingers thread in his dark hair, and I kiss his cheek, right above his ear. But when he lifts his head, my happy feeling dims. Something’s still not right, and I don’t know what to make of it.

  I slide my finger down his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

  His brow furrows briefly, and he pulls me close again, pressing his nose into my hair and inhaling again before speaking close to my ear. “I want you to have everything your heart desires.”

  I don’t know why he sounds so worried. I’ve never been happier in my life. Still, I know his past is a shitshow, and I guess it’s not so easy to put old demons to rest.

  Tightening my arms around him, warmth floods my heart, and I tilt my head to meet his eyes. “I already do.”

  A text is waiting on my phone when I open my eyes the next morning. It’s from Ms Alice, and all it says is, Get the book. We’ll meet at Daisy’s place at ten.

  My phone pings several more times with a text from Daisy asking if I can bring bay leaves and lavender oil. Another ding is Courtney asking if it’s okay for Oliver to play with Melody. Another ding, and I groan, rolling over and hoping to burrow into Spencer’s side.

  Squinting, I rub the sleep from my eyes as I push onto my elbows. It’s already nine in the morning, and glancing to the side of the king-sized bed, I see my husband is gone. Where is he? My surroundings are gradually coming into focus, and the scent of coffee drifts up the stairs, giving me a clue.

  Several more texts ping on my phone, and as I read, I understand what happened. Baby Jesus is missing, and nobody saw a thing. What the hell? What happened to our nanny cam?

  Throwing back the covers, I quickly discard my black tank and Unsolved Mysteries pajama pants and pull on a pair of jeggings and a fluffy sweatshirt and jog down the stairs. We’ve got to find that baby before tomorrow.

  Sure enough, my sexy man is in the kitchen in gray sweatpants slung low on his narrow hips and a dark green Henley.

  Pressing my lips into a smile, I tease. “I’m going to need a full frontal here.”

  “What’s that?” He turns to greet me, and I chew my lip at the sight. “I was trying to let you sleep. Did I wake you?”

  Even though he got me pretty good against the wall last night and again early this morning, the bulge in his sweats makes my core clench. A quick glance at the clock tells me I’ve got to go, so instead I step into his hug, giving him a quick kiss before opening the cabinet and moving the spices around.

  “Baby Jesus is missing, and I’ve got about twenty texts on my phone. Ms. Alice called an emergency meeting of the Fireside Ladies over at Daisy’s house.”

  “The witches?” He returns to the coffee pot and pours me a to-go mug of the hot liquid.

  I take it, rising onto my tiptoes to kiss him again. I’m happy to see he’s less pensive this morning. “When all else fails, ask the supernatural.”

  “Don’t climb any ladders without your helmet.”

  Shaking my head, I laugh. “That was one time!”

  “And luckily I was there to catch you.”

  “I won’t climb any ladders. I promise.”

  Ms. Alice has the book, a stack of candles, and a small pot for burning the oil and necessary ingredients by the time I arrive.

  “Here’s the sage and essential oils.” I drag several bottles out of my bag, and Ms. Alice quickly takes them from me.

  “Daisy, arrange the candles in the circle.”

  Courtney, as usual, is nervous. “Are you sure we should be doing a spell to find Baby Jesus?” She leans closer and whispers, “Isn’t that sacrilegious?”

  Daisy pipes up. “We could pray the thief gets struck with a guilty conscience and brings him back.”

  “We don’t have time for this thief to have a battle with himself,” Ms. Alice fusses. “There’s a ton of people coming to that service tomorrow, and they expect a full nativity. The Lord will understand.”

  Courtney’s not convinced. “What if it’s like ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas,’ and we learn Christmas isn’t about a full nativity at all?”

  Ms. Alice levels her eyes on me, and I’m feeling a bit conflicted as well. “I don’t think it can hurt much. God gave us the herbs to use, and anyway, the spells are just for fun.”

  I’m totally lying, since I stole this book for a year and tried every spell in it to get a man to come back, to catch my ex-boyfriend cheating, to protect us from Courtney’s abusive ex...

  “I still don’t think it’s right.” Courtney crosses her arms over her stomach.

  I pat her arm gently. “You’re not actually from Fireside, so I think it would be okay if you sit it out.”

  “I’m about to have a baby!” Daisy cries. “What if we invoke some kind of Rosemary’s Baby situation and it comes out with red eyes?”

  “Daisy Kate Sales!” Ms. Alice cries. “Why would you even say such a thing? The Fireside Ladies would not dabble in the dark arts. All of their spells are gentle, helpful rituals. Now stop being morbid and put these candles in a circle.”

  My cousin chews her lip, but she does what her grandmother-in-law tells her to do. Of all the people to talk, Daisy was with me when we did our very first spell—and it worked, too. Of course, that night we were drinking tequila and dancing around the kitchen like Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman.

  Five minutes later, we’re sitting in a circle, Courtney included, holding hands and watching the copper pot surrounded by candles burning herbs in a pool of essential oils.

  “The palm is sacred,” Ms. Alice says, and we all repeat it.

  The old ladies who started the club were mostly interested in conservationism, but they also dabbled in suffrage and little spells for finding lost things and catching petty thieves.

  We listen as Ms. Alice recites the ancient words. Other than the wind picking up and gusting suddenly, which happens a lot this close to the ocean, nothing seems to change.

  I lean towards Daisy and whisper, “Every time I do it, we drink tequila.”

  “I can’t drink tequila right now,” she whispers back.

  Ms. Alice’s eyes slit open, and she gives us a stern look. We close our eyes and wait again. I’m not sure how long we’re supposed to wait. Her methods are different from mine.