Page 79 of A Witch in Notting Hill

This might have been the most I’d ever wanted to get a handle on my magic in a situation like this, and that had to count for something, didn’t it? I said a silent prayer to the universe that whatever cruel forces were working against me would let up and that I could channel the James women before me to have a single romantic encounter without catastrophe.Please, let this one be it.

And for a moment, it almost felt like my prayers were answered. Or like I’d actually managed to control my magic, instead of the other way around. The tingling stopped. The water cooled just enough to notice. Baby steps, but steps nonetheless. For a moment, it seemed like it might have been possible for me to actually have this.

Until Oliver released his hands from my lower back and wrapped both arms around my stomach, and it felt so good to be pressed against him I could feel it between my legs, and I started to lose it again.

The light fixture buzzed, hot steam billowed from the showerhead, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get it back. I wanted to scream.

Instead, I laid my hands over his, sliding them off my body no matter how badly I didn’t want to, and that was when the pipe blew.

A cracking explosion and a spray of water like a firehouse burst from beneath the sink, startling both of us from our trance.

“Bloody hell,” Oliver said, uncurling his arms from me and jumping out of the shower. Like he’d never been there at all. “What’s all this?”

I grabbed a towel from the rack and joined him at the sink, but I knew the answer to his question. I knew exactly what all this was.

Once again, I’d gotten caught in a moment and didn’t get myself out fast enough.

But it didn’t matter. Water was spraying all over the bathroom, and we had to do something about it.

“I’ve got it,” Oliver said, dodging the spray and trying to duck under the sink. With his back to me, I tried to remember the spell my mom taught me and Ivy that time we overflowed the washing machine. It was on the tip of my tongue. Something about a wish? Or a dish?

“D’you have a wrench?” Oliver asked.We’re not going to need it in a second,I refrained from adding aloud.

“Uh, let me look.”

I slipped out of the bathroom and pretended to look for a wrench while I thought of the spell.Come on, Willow. You know this.

The bathroom was flooding more by the minute, and I already feared for my security deposit. It was such a silly spell. Like a nursery rhyme. We used to sing it when Mom made us do chores or when the garden hose turned freezing cold.

“Willow?”

“Just a minute!”

Think.

“It’s a proper wash in here,” Oliver called.

A wash.

I wish, I wish

There was a wash,

A wash that would wish,

A wish to wash,

And when that wash

Would then be dry

We wouldn’t even have to try!

Irepeated it a few more times in my head to make sure I had it right before I slipped back into the bathroom as quietly as possible—which wasn’t hard given the noise of the rushing water—and whispered the spell as earnestly as I could. Said it two, three times, watching in disbelief as the water slowed to a dribble.Holy shit.

Oliver whipped around from under the sink, bumping the back of his head on the way out. “What’d you do? Turn off the water?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, figuring his suggestion was a better lie than I’d have come up with. Only apparently I wasn’t as convincing as I’d hoped, because he leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms like he didn’t believe a word I said.