A Little Bite of Magic (Little Magic) by M.J. O'Shea Read Free Book Online

they’d kept kissing and touching and getting as close to each other as they could. It wasn’t just the custard anymore by the end of the night. Frankie knew. He could tell the difference. It was real.
    “Hey, I asked you a question.”
    “Oh, yeah. I’m good.”
    “I’ll say.” Dom thrust his hips crudely a few times in Frankie’s direction.
    “Pshhh. It wasn’t like that.” Frankie couldn’t help smiling. What it had been was so damn perfect.
    “And why not? You bitch out?”
    “No. We kissed.”
    Dom made a face. “You just kissed? You’re lame.”
    “We just kissed for hours. And it wasn’t lame. It was amazing.” His breath caught when he remembered just how amazing it had been.
    “And where’s lover boy now?”
    “At work.”
    I think. I wish I knew.
    Frankie had thought the other night was the start of something. His charm was just supposed to nudge Addison past his shyness, not to make him feel something he didn’t really feel. So what if he was going about his everyday life like the other night had never happened? That would suck so bad. Impossible. He had to feel it for real. There was no way that one little spell had been an all-nighter. And there was Frankie's vision too. He might not be a master, but he wasn't that inept. There was something real and powerful there.
    “So, what’s on the menu today? Smells awesome.”
    Frankie was stirring with his spoon—er—wand. He’d done nothing more than infuse the broth with a faint feeling of well-being. Nothing that anyone would notice. He just liked making people happy.
    “French onion soup, of course. Will you shred some Gruyère for me?” Frankie gestured at the block of cheese. Dom worked in silence for a while, and Frankie sliced small pieces of baguette to put on top of the soup with melted cheese. His broth was a mixture of sherry, beef stock, fragrant herbs, and olive oil.
    Dom made quick work. He transferred the grated cheese into a plastic tub near where the bowls were assembled. Frankie missed working with him. He hadn’t realized how much easier things were when they worked together.
    “What’s for dessert?”
    Figured. Dom had a ridiculous sweet tooth. “There are beignets cooling on the racks over there. I made a custard to fill them with. Would you mind piping it in? The bowl is chilling on the top shelf of the fridge.”
    “Yeah, no problem.”
    “The tips and piping bags are in the third drawer from the bottom,” Frankie called out before he went back to seasoning his sautéing onions.
    Dom worked quietly; his usual sarcastic quips were always quieted when he was cooking. Frankie left him alone. After a few minutes of filling, Dom reached out and wiggled the dial on the radio. A Latin station came on, and Dom turned the radio up. The room filled with the mellow guitar of bossa nova. Dom swayed with the beat, dancing as he worked on the pastries.
    “This custard is really great, Franks.”
    “Hey!” Frankie laughed. “You’re not supposed to taste. And what’s with the music of your homeland over there?”
    Dom shrugged. “I like summer music when it’s rainy. And you know I was born here. Grandma used to listen to this stuff and say it reminded her of São Paulo, though. I guess it just makes me happy.”
    Frankie rolled his eyes and laughed. “Whatever. Quit reminiscing and fill those beignets. I open in fifteen minutes.”
    "Thanks for helping today, Dom. I know you're tired and this is your day off," Dom said mockingly.
    Frankie laughed. "Sorry, dude. I am grateful. We've been so busy lately."
    Dom simply nodded and went back to work, dancing the entire time.
    * * * *
    It was crowded in the dining room. Owen had his hands full, and Bethany had stopped seating and was running back and forth to and from the kitchen herself, getting bowls of cheesy French onion soup and crunchy cranberry-walnut side salads. Even Dom pitched in, plating and waiting tables after telling Frankie he was going to owe him a case of