A Little Bite of Magic (Little Magic) (7 page)

“Well, one of them is my mother.”

Oops
. Frankie cringed.

“Hey, that’s okay. She is pretty lame.” Addison sighed.

“You guys don’t get along?”

“We get along when I’m doing exactly what she wants me to do.”

“Why do I have the feeling that this isn’t one of those things?”

“That obvious?”

“Does she even know you’re…”

“Gay? No.” Addison’s eyes went a bit wide, like he hadn’t meant to say that.

“It’s okay, you know. She doesn’t have to like it. Only matters if you’re happy.” Frankie reached over to put his hand on Addison’s thigh. He was surprised when Addison covered his hand and laced their fingers together. He seemed so uncharacteristically relaxed.

“I have been happy lately.” He pulled Frankie’s hand up to kiss his palm. Frankie couldn’t help the way his stomach melted. The sunset streamed through the window on a soft waft of air—orange and gold shaded with twilight purple. It bathed Addison’s face and hair, turning his fairness into fiery gold. His eyes were black rimmed and beautiful when he turned to smile shyly at Frankie, like he wasn’t sure that what he’d done was okay.

“I’ve been happy too,” Frankie told him.

“You know, I don't usually like to be called Addie anymore. It’s what I went by when I was a kid.”

“But?”

“But from you, I like it. Doesn’t feel awkward.”

“Awkward how?”

“My mom calls me that sometimes, but it was my dad who started it. He was different from her. He would’ve liked you.”

“You think?”

Addison chuckled. “Well, sure. You can cook.”

* * * *

Parking was hard to find at the park—classic movie night was popular in the summer—but they managed to squeeze into a slot not too far from the screen. Addison found a great spot on a hill where they could still see if they lay back. They both busily started to set up, spreading out the big quilt Frankie had brought and tossing down cushions.

Everything was ready by the time the movie started. That night they were showing
Pillow Talk
. It was dated and silly, but Frankie loved it. Getting to watch it in the park with the fresh air and slightly damp grass squishing beneath his feet was even better. The best part was Addison, strong chest behind him, legs encompassing Frankie’s torso, and arms all warm and snuggly wrapped around him. Rock Hudson was in the middle of trying to put the moves on Doris Day when Frankie reached over to the picnic basket.

“Want some wine?”

Addison tugged him back and nuzzled into his hair. Frankie shivered. That was so, so very nice.

“In a second,” Addison murmured and tightened his arms.

“I brought cheese and crackers too.” It was better than saying what he was thinking:
I know what we could be. Never let me go.

Frankie was pretty sure that would scare Addison. Hell, it would scare him if he hadn’t seen it so clearly: the house, the beach, the sun and salty fresh air coming in through the open window, a blue-and-white quilt covering them as they laughed and kissed and talked. The vision hadn’t changed. He still saw pieces of it every time they touched, every time he closed his eyes.

“Cheese and crackers? A chef brought cheese and crackers?”

“And grapes.” Frankie grinned and tipped his head back to brush a kiss across Addison’s lips. “I guess I’m fired.”

“Yeah. Fired.” He kissed back and rubbed Frankie’s belly through his shirt. “You’re…” he whispered, but then he seemed to forget what he was saying in the warmth of the kiss.

“I’m what?” Frankie wanted to know, but he couldn’t help kissing again. This time it wasn’t the wine or a charmed dessert. It wasn’t anything but him, Addison, and how sweet it was between them.

“You’re perfect,” Addison whispered. Then he seemed to realize what he’d said aloud and cleared his throat. “Maybe I should have some of that wine.”

Frankie smiled. “Maybe we both should.”

Frankie crawled over to the basket to grab the bottle. The wine was fey and incredibly strong. Frankie had diluted it nearly by half with mineral water. Undiluted, it would make an average human go insane. Even witches couldn’t drink fairy wine at full strength. Watered down, it still did more than regular wine did to loosen inhibitions. Frankie thought he should probably warn Addison, but something told him to keep his mouth shut. How would he explain it anyway?

“This is delicious,” Addison said after his first long sip.

It was that. Fey wine was somehow both sweet and dry, and it always tasted a bit wild. “It’s my favorite.”

They sat in companionable silence, watching the movie and drinking the wine, shoulders touching and fingers brushing against each other’s. Addison lolled to the side, leaning more heavily against Frankie. Frankie inhaled, loving his warmth and the way he smelled. He hadn’t poured himself much of the wine. Clearly he should’ve poured less for Addison as well, although it was cute how tipsy he’d gotten.

“I might need to have some of those crackers you packed,” Addison whispered. “I think this wine’s going to my head.”

“That’s okay, isn’t it?” Frankie gave Addison a deliberately sly grin. Addison chuckled but reached for the rosemary crackers that Frankie had packed.

“I probably don’t need the wine anyway. You do a thorough enough job of going to my head all by yourself.”

“I love the things you say to me.” Frankie was utterly charmed. Who needed a spell anyway? They kissed, and Frankie tasted the strong, sweet fairy wine, rosemary, and a faint hint of what he knew had to be pure magic.

Addison moaned into their kiss. “What are you doing to me?” he muttered against Frankie’s lips.

“Shhh. Just kiss me.”

Addison seemed to have no problem complying. The kisses began again, wine-flavored and deep. Frankie’s hands sneaked up under the hem of Addison’s shirt, and Addison scooted closer and closer on the blanket. They were lying down by that point, surrounded by people but completely lost in their own hazy world. Frankie wasn’t drunk off the wine, nowhere close to it, but he’d lost his mind somewhere in those first few kisses, and he didn’t much care to get it back. He wrapped his arms around Addison’s shoulders and burrowed into his neck.

How do I convince this man that I’ve known for only two weeks that we’re perfect together?

It was clear to him—how they fit, how their bodies reacted so strongly to each other’s presence. Frankie wanted… Well, what he wanted could never happen in a public park. It didn’t stop him, though, from thinking it as he slipped his hands underneath Addison’s shirt again. They didn’t pull apart until Frankie heard a high-pitched muffled twittering from the next blanket over. He pulled away from Addison and saw a group of girls watching them intensely. He was surprisingly embarrassed. Maybe the fairy wine got to him more than he thought. Maybe it was just Addison. Frankie had never lost himself in a kiss in public like that before.

“You guys are adorable,” one of the girls whispered with a big grin. Frankie smiled back. He hoped Addison wasn’t too taken aback by the girl’s comment. Turned out he didn’t need to worry. His…boyfriend? date?…was lying on the quilt, eyes to the stars, tracing patterns with his index finger along the sky.

Oh, wow
. Frankie giggled. Maybe he should’ve diluted the wine a bit more.

“Hey, Addie, you want to pack it up and head home?”

“Is the movie over?” He ran his fingers through his already touch-tousled hair.

“No, but you look a bit toasted. I’ll drive your car.”

“Okay.” Addison looked like he was about ready to agree to anything.

“But you’re going to have to tell me how to get to your place, okay?”

“’Kay.”

Frankie chuckled and stood to help Addison up. They quickly folded up their blanket and gathered all the pillows and stored the extra food in the basket before weaving their way through the crowd toward Addison’s car.

* * * *

“Listen, Frankie. I’ve got to tell you something.”

Addison’s stomach jumped, but he knew it was the right thing to do to tell him about the column. Frankie would find out eventually, and Addison didn’t want him to get hurt by finding out from someone else. He wouldn't bring up Julia at all. Julia was going to end the next moment Addison had to himself. It had been over for a long time anyway; he’d just been too chicken to do anything about it. Next chance he had, he’d call her, and she’d be out of his life.

“What?” Frankie’s lips were swollen and wet from their kisses and the wine they’d shared at the park. And after. They had been lying on his bed for nearly an hour, still fully clothed, just kissing and talking.

The buzz from Frankie’s strong wine had worn off, but he still didn’t regret asking Frankie to come inside. He never invited Julia inside, or he wouldn’t if she’d ever deigned to come near his place. There was something different about how it was with Frankie. Addison didn’t know what was going on, but he knew that nothing was as good as being near him.

Frankie propped himself up on Addison’s chest and regarded him seriously. “Are you going to tell me whatever it is you said you had to tell me?”

Addison sighed. He was awful at conflict. “When I said I worked at the newspaper, I didn’t tell you the whole story.”

“What is the whole story?”

Addison froze.
I can’t do it.

“Listen, I know I assumed you were a reporter, but if you’re not, it’s okay, Addie. It's just a job.”

Oh, no. He thinks I’m embarrassed because I have some entry-level job
. Addison felt even worse.

Frankie looked at him, sympathetic. “You can tell me another time what it is. I’m really sleepy from the wine. Can we close our eyes for a few minutes?”

Addison nodded.
I don’t deserve this man. I’m an asshole
. He wasn’t about to get rid of Frankie, though. No matter what, Frankie was his. His. He kissed the back of Frankie’s neck and then pulled the comforter over them and cuddled him up close.

“Hey,” Frankie murmured about an hour later. “It’s getting kind of late. Do you want to take me home before we’re both too tired?”

Addison kissed Frankie’s forehead and ran his hands up under that soft T-shirt he’d been rubbing all night. Then he said something that he hadn’t expected to say, something he’d never said to Julia and only once or twice to anyone else before her.

“Why don’t you just…stay?”

Chapter Six

Frankie happily chopped basil, humming as he watched his huge pot of boiling noodles. He already had fragrant piles of rosemary, grated Parmesan, minced garlic, and toasted pine nuts ready to be ground together for a classic bright-green pesto. He planned to mix the pasta together with his fresh pesto, egg for texture, tons of mascarpone and white cheddar cheeses, and a bit of good feeling before sprinkling it with bread crumbs and olive oil and popping it into the oven to bake. He was going to grill some lightly seasoned red bell peppers, onion, and asparagus to go with it for crunch and freshness.

He didn’t have to look up to know that Addison had come in. They’d only seen each other a few times in the two weeks since their date in the park—work had been crazy for both of them lately—but they’d talked on the phone nearly every night until it wasn’t even night any longer. He sighed happily when Addison hugged him from behind. It was impossible not to close his eyes and inhale.

“Hey,” Frankie murmured.

“Hey.” Addison kissed him on the neck. “You smell so good.”

“Like garlic?” Frankie chuckled.

“Like you.”

Frankie turned for a small kiss, which turned into a bigger kiss, which ended with him on the counter, legs around Addison’s waist as they tried to inhale each other. It was a while before they drew back, kissing lightly and hugging close.

“I've missed kissing you.” Frankie nuzzled Addison’s neck. Four days had been far too long.

“Missed kissing you too. Do I get to see you tonight?”

“Yeah. I got all my accounting done for the week. After I close, I’m all yours.”

Addison chuckled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His breath caught in his throat. They hadn’t yet, but he wanted to.
Damn
. And their kisses had gotten hotter, full of touching and petting every time they’d been together since that night in the park.

“What’s for lunch?” Addison looked over Frankie’s shoulder.

“Pesto macaroni and cheese. They’ve been requesting it.” Frankie made the pesto mac dish more than anything else on his rotating menu. It was so popular, he was cleaned out every time.

“And dessert?”

“Shortbread with a raspberry-peach dipping sauce.”

“Mmm, yeah, that’s what I’m smelling.”

The shortbread was already cooling, flaky and buttery sweet, on his wire rack tower, and he had the glaze bubbling away on the stove top. He’d added piles of fresh raspberries and juicy peaches to his big sauce pot and had heated them up with sugar and a bit of amaretto to add a nice rounded kick.

Frankie slid off the counter to stir his sauce, mashing the fruit and sugar with his old wooden spoon and then adding butter until the whole thing was rich and glossy. Addison came up behind him and kissed his neck again. Frankie hadn’t been expecting it, and it tickled. He giggled and jumped. A tingle went down his arm, through the spoon, and into the sauce he was stirring.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

He nearly tossed the whole pot and started over, but then he decided it couldn’t hurt. At least the people would be happy. He hadn’t charmed the pasta dish at least, beyond the usual faint hint of good feeling. At least that was a good thing. Didn’t want people passing by to think he was running a comedy show.

Frankie squirmed happily in Addison’s arms. “Hey, I gotta get lunch made. I had a line out the door for the pesto mac last time.”

“Can I help? I have an hour before I’ve gotta be at the dentist.”

Frankie made a face. “Yuck. The dentist?”

Addison nodded. “But I’ll pick you up at your place around eight.”

“So you wanna pour that cooked pasta into the big baking dishes? Try to make it even.”