The Ex Hex (The Ex Hex, #1)

by Erin Sterling

Never mix vodka and witchcraft.

“Goddess, we beseech you that this man shall never again darken Vivi’s door nor her vagina.”

“Goddess,” Vivi said, taking another sip, “we beseech you that he never again use his dimples for evil against unsuspecting maidens.”

“Goddess, we beseech you to make sure his hair never does that thing again. You know the thing we mean.”

“Goddess, we beseech you to make him the sort of man who will forever think the clitoris is exactly one-third of an inch away from where it actually ...

“You broke my heart, Rhys Penhallow,” she said. “And we curse you. You and your whole stupid, hot line.”

Because I occasionally have one whisky too many and see what The One Who Got Away is up to and she still lives there which is why I definitely don’t want to go back was the truth, but, Rhys suspected, not the answer to give here.

So beautiful. And so bloody sweet. He’d felt like someone had hit him solidly in the chest when he’d seen her there at the Solstice Revel, standing under a violet sky, a flower crown crooked on her head. She’d smiled at him, and it had been . . . Instant. Irrevocable. A fucking disaster.

“Okay, well, as long as we don’t accidentally summon demons, I’m in.” “It was just that once, and technically it was a very pissed off elemental spirit.”

“Remember when we pretended to curse him?” Gwyn asked, grinning as she shuffled her cards, and Vivi snorted. “Something about his dimples and never being able to find a clitoris again.” “Which,” Gwyn said, tilting her head to one side, “now that I think about it was actually more a curse against any women he dated, and I kind of regret that. For the sisterhood.”

Likewise, any hope that she might have forgiven him in the intervening years died a groaning death as she narrowed her eyes and said, “I shouldn’t have tried to slow down.” “Good to see you, too, Vivienne,”

“Okay, well, I’d say I was sorry about nearly killing you, but we both know that’s a lie, so I’ll leave you to find your own way home.”

“You almost ran your ex-boyfriend over with a car, and then left him lying in the literal dirt on the side of the road. It is such a big deal, you absolute queen.”

“The Full Potter,” he repeated. “Not finding out you’re a witch until you’re older, not growing up with it. ‘Yer a witch, Vivi,’ that sort of thing.”

“I know you’re just going to mention the whole thing with Led Zeppelin, so let’s just skip it and admit we’ve all done stupid things in our pasts, and leave Vivi alone about her motivation.”

And if she smiled a little when her back was to him, that was her business.

What Rhys knew was that kissing her had felt like waking up. Like he’d been drifting sleepily through everything for the past nine years until he tasted her mouth again and remembered what actually being alive felt like. Better than any magic, Vivienne’s kiss.

What they had was not the kind of thing that worked in a long-distance sense, and hell, for all he knew, all they had was intense physical chemistry that would burn itself out. It didn’t burn itself out over nine years, the bastard part of his brain reminded him. Do you really think it’s going to now?

“I grew up in an actual haunted house, and this is worse,” Rhys said. “Way worse. I mean, I haven’t seen your house, but I believe it.”

She’d gone into a haunted house, lit a magical candle and captured a motherfucking witch ghost. And that felt pretty awesome.

“I was mad about you, Vivienne,” he said softly. Sincerely. “Utterly mad.”

“I am mad about you, Vivienne Jones. Again. Or maybe I should say still, because I’m gonna be real honest with you here, cariad. I don’t think it ever went away.”

Sometimes she thought what she’d really fallen in love with that summer was the version of herself she was when she was with him.

He smiled then, the expression, as always, making him look younger and softer, and Vivi wished she didn’t like him so much, wished nineteen-year-old Vivi hadn’t seen him standing there in that field and given her whole heart away with both hands. But that wasn’t true. And she knew it.

“Nah, I was gonna let you feel me up on the hayride.” “I’m not even completely sure what a hayride is, but I think it might be my favorite part of this Fall Fair already.”

“You’re making my cousin very happy and bringing me caramel-apple pie? Clearly working hard at getting another nickname besides ‘dickbag,’ dickbag.” “I live in hope,”

“Vivienne, I’m so sorry, but I’m leaving you for the woman who makes these pies.” “She’s ninety.” “Even so.”

“Seriously, dude, don’t care whose dad you are or how fancy a witch you are, keep talking shit about my cat, and I will personally kick you down this mountain.”

“And yet we’re still the witches who managed to curse your son, and you had no idea it had even happened. So maybe back off a little.”

“It’s so stupid!” “So is love, to be honest.” “We’re completely wrong for each other!” “Which is why it’s hot.” “I cursed him, Gwynnevere.” “Who among us hasn’t.”

“There’s no really good timing for this kind of thing, is there? Finding your person? It just kind of happens when it happens. Or so they say.”

“Tell her how you feel,” Bowen said now. “Be honest. Oh, and also don’t die tonight.”

“Sorry. I’m getting a little overexcited, aren’t I?” “I mean, you saved an entire town and my life with your magic,” he reminded her. “You’re allowed.” Tipping her head back against the seat, Vivienne laughed again. “I did. I did that. I am a certified badass witch.” “The baddest of asses,” Rhys agreed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, “and also possibly a little Magic Drunk.”

That was a problem for Future Rhys, and surely that cheeky bugger would be able to work it out.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked, her voice quiet, her mood a little more subdued. “It’s not that you didn’t actually reverse the curse, and you’ve brought me here to kick me off this hillside, is it?”

“May I kiss you?” Rhys’s heart jerked almost painfully against his ribs. “Now?” “I’m open to whatever your schedule allows.” “Well, lucky for you, I am currently free as fuck,”

“I realize that uprooting my life and moving to Georgia for a woman might fall into the reckless and ill-thought-out category, but the thing is, I’m very much in love with that woman.” He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice. “That woman is you, by the way. Wanted to make sure that was clear.”

“I love you. So very, very much. And I know that I’m flippant sometimes, or make a joke rather than say the truth, but I want you to know that you’re everything to me, Vivienne. Everything.”

“No, I mean . . . it doesn’t have to be either-or. You here or me in Wales. We can do both. We can have both. And it’s going to be messy and hard sometimes, but it will be worth it. Because I love you, too. You’ve had my heart just as long, and I trust you with it.”

The Fool and The Star, just like Gwyn’s cards had shown. Leaping off cliffs and shining steadily, opposites who couldn’t live without each other. Who didn’t have to.