The Witch with No Name

Propped up on an elbow, he smiled and tucked my snarled hair behind an ear. His stubble caught the light, and I wanted to feel its roughness. “See what I mean?” he said, the sheet slipping to show a new and very nice angle of him. “That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Smirking, I scooted down and tucked myself next to him. My real list was a lot different: check the news to see if our fake death gamble worked, make a soul bottle for Ivy, dodge uncomfortable questions from my mom.

Suddenly I realized Trent’s hand was moving, ever moving, against me, running behind my ear with a comfortable security, as if he’d been doing it for years. “There’s absolutely nothing I can do,” he said around a sigh, gazing past me to the private beach. “And a hundred things I should.”

He was worried about his girls, but I couldn’t resist letting my fingers drift downward over his chest. His body tensed, and I smiled. “We should play dead more often. This is the nicest morning I’ve had in a long time.”

“There’s always room for improvement.” Trent’s weight shifted as he leaned over me. His hand made a delicious path of tingles as it slipped up under the hem of the short nightie, settling in a tight grip on my waist. I smiled and reached for him, pulling him down into another kiss.

My eyes closed as I breathed him in. The hint of my mom’s soap made him even more familiar, and my hand made steady progress down his side and thigh before I drifted inward to find him. His breathing changed, and I lingered as his lips left mine, skating down my neck and to my breast.

“Alice, they’re still asleep.” Takata’s voice jerked through me, and Trent jumped.

“They’re three hours ahead of us,” my mom protested. “We’ve got to go, and I’m not going to sneak out of here and leave them a note!”

“So you knock on their door,” Takata grumbled. “Why are you making me do it?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’ll do it,” she said, and the sound of her steps rang loudly on the tile. “Watch the waffles, will you? They need to get up.”

Trent looked down at me, his interrupted passion shifting to amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I am up. They need to go away.”

“Sorry,” I said with an apologetic wince, and he rolled to sit up, settling himself beside me with the blankets pulled across his lap.

“Good morning, Ms. Morgan!” Trent said loudly as he stared at the ceiling, and I gave him a backhanded smack.

“See, they’re awake,” I heard her admonish Takata. “Go check the waffles.”

She barely knocked before pushing the door open, and I yanked the blanket up as she peeked in, bringing the scent of maple syrup and cooked batter with her. “Good morning!” she called happily, her hair pulled back and looking more like my sister than my mom in casual jeans and a classy sweater. “Breakfast is ready. You can eat it while it’s hot or let it get cold, but I didn’t want to leave without at least saying good morning.”

“You’re leaving?” I said, grabbing the blanket when Trent threatened to drag it off me.

My mom bustled forward, heels clicking as she went to open the blinds all the way. Sunshine poured in, and my eyes hurt. “We’re catching a flight out this afternoon. Big day today!” She turned, beaming at us. “Damn, you look good together. Rachel, if you screw this up, I’m going to be pissed. Trent has—”

“Mom!” I shouted, and she blinked, turning a slight shade of red. Trent wasn’t helping, and I gave him a pinch to keep quiet when he opened his mouth, presumably to ask what she thought he might have that I might be interested in.

“Sorry,” she said, surprising me. “I just wanted to see you before we left.”

“Where are you going?” I asked again. “I’ve got some spelling to do, and I thought you might be able to help. With the shopping if nothing else.”

“A-A-A-Alice?” Takata shouted. “Where’s the cinnamon?”

Her eyes lit up, and then she frowned, clearly torn. “Oh, I can’t, sweetheart,” she said as she scooped up my jeans from the floor and folded them. “Donald and I have a flight to Cincy in a few hours. I’ve got your funeral to plan.”

“It worked!” Trent exclaimed, and I smiled as my mom’s eyes glowed in anticipation.

“This is going to be fantastic!” she gushed as she fiddled with the fringe on the seventies lamp they had stuck in here. “If I can’t plan your wedding, I can at least arrange your funeral. Donald has a song and everything. You’re going to love it!”

Oh God, she was going to do the eulogy. “Ah, Mom?”

“Get yourself up,” she said as she backed out of the room. “We leave in ten.”

The door clicked shut, and I thumped my head back. I’d never be able to leave my church again. If I had a church to go back to.

Trent threw the covers back and swung his feet to the floor. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as he stood, every yummy inch of him catching the light from the beach. “Your mom is . . .”

“Is what?” I looked at the slowly rising spot in the bed where he’d been and sighed. Just twenty minutes more. Was that too much to ask?

“Fun,” he said, stretching.