Read Never Been Witched for Free Online

Magazine ? Surely you jest.”
    “I’ve been using it for years. It’s ready for morning coffee. Strike a match, and touch it to the kindling in here.” He opened a door and pointed. “This is the firebox.” He took an empty, blue enamelware coffeepot from the stove’s top shelf where it sat beside an old aluminum coffeepot. A warming shelf, she surmised.
    “Fill this with water. Heat it. Pour it in a mug. Find a teabag. Think you can do that?”
    Part of her wanted to hit him with the damned pot that he used as a kettle. But the absurdly attracted part of her wanted to warm him, in a very big way.
    She yanked it from his icy hand. “Call me Annie freaking Oakley.”

Chapter Six
    CAST-IRON stoves, salacious thoughts, and Popsicle hunks did not a romantic scene make, Destiny told herself. “You’re turning a nice shade of blue,” she said as the puddle he stood in got bigger. “In a minute, you’ll match your balls. Go change. One cup of hot hemlock tea coming up.”
    He looked back at her, raised a finger, shook his head, and left the kitchen. She took a pail, mopped his saltwater trail from the kitchen into the tower—amazing place—through the parlor, along the floor around the beautiful old Persian rug—he respected antiques—and up the stairs to the top.
    No way was she gonna mop in on him naked. She left the mop and bucket so he could take it from there after he was dressed.
    Twenty minutes later, his teeth still chattering, Morgan looked pretty dumb in layered sweats, hoods up and tied tight, no two pieces the same color. “You look like a tall, color-blind elf.”
    Gloves on, teeth chattering worse than ever—a delayed reaction, she supposed—he could barely hold his mug.
    “If you catch pneumonia, I’ll never forgive you,” Destiny said. She bit the inside of her cheek and set the door-mat on the floor near the firebox, so he could sit near its warmth. She put another blanket from her cart around him and took off his gloves so he could warm his hands on his mug. Caramello came in and curled up in his lap, yowling as if commiserating with him.
    She petted her cat on Morgan’s lap. “Night swims in October are a little out of your league, I take it?”
    He shivered so hard, he jarred Caramello, and she ended up on the floor, but she climbed right back up. “I think she’s trying to keep me warm.”
    Destiny scratched Caramello behind her ears, her hand knuckle-deep in the silky caramel-and-marshmallow-swirl coat. “Not that you deserve this, Cara,” Destiny said. “Scratching Morgan the way you did.”
    In response, Caramello licked her nose and purred louder.
    “Good girl.” Destiny poured herself a cup of tea, took out a bag of bakery-fresh chocolate chip cookies, gave Morgan one, and sat on the floor beside him. She sipped her tea and found the silence comfortable between them. When she shivered, he scooted over to share his blankets with her, changing the dynamics and making conversation imperative. “So why have you been coming here since you were a kid? You and your parents take separate vacations?”
    He shrugged. “If you met them, you’d understand why that would have been preferable. Suffice it to say that I was on my own at an early age. Why did you come here instead of going to Scotland or staying in Salem, for that matter?”
    “I had a psychic vision of the lighthouse, okay? I believe that I have to be here to find my psychic path.” She elbowed him. “Okay, so you’re not big on trust. It doesn’t matter. We both wanted to be here, and we are.”
    Morgan shook his head and unzipped one of his hoodies. “We both wanted to be alone , and we’re not, at least until the water taxi comes on Wednesday.”
    She offered him another cookie. “I’m here for two weeks. Are you thinking you’ll leave on that taxi? Why Wednesday?”
    “You’re gonna think this is lame, because in a way it is, but I call my parents every Wednesday afternoon. Since Paxton Island still