Page 17 of Sugar, Spice, and Magical Midlife

When the front door chimed, I brushed back my hair and expelled a deep breath, doing my best to shake off nervous energy.

Walking through the swinging door, I stopped as if I’d hit a brick wall.

Ric looked the perfect gentleman with his shoulder-length hair tied back in a queue, a starched collar, and a dress jacket, which complimented his dark denim jeans. But his attire was nothing compared to the beautiful bouquet of violet lilies and purple lavender he held in his hands.

“Hi,” I breathed, feeling as if my feet were propelled on a cloud as I gravitated toward him.

“Hi.” He flashed a devastatingly sexy slanted smile. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks.” I walked around the counter and took the flowers from his outstretched hands. Coyly batting my lashes, I inhaled the bouquet’s fragrant aroma. “Oh, they smell beautiful.”

His eyes lit up like twin suns. “Their beauty is eclipsed by yours.”

What a cheesy thing to say, so why did I feel like swooning? I swore I almost heard the distant sound of a Latin guitar thrumming to a seductive beat as I got lost in his feral gaze.

“I’ll put them in water.” Ethyl snatched the flowers from my hands. I hadn’t heard the pixie approach. “Oh, they look a little droopy.” Ethyl frowned at the flowers, pulling out her lipstick wand.

Heat crept into my cheeks. “No spells, Ethyl.” Last time she’d tried to revitalize a plant, she’d turned the bakery into Little Shop of Horrors.

Ric arched a thick brow. “Are you ready to go?”

“I need to finish a few things. I’ll only be a few minutes.” I spun around, nearly tripping over my own feet.

“I can finish up here,” Ethyl said, her smile appearing frozen in place.

That’s what I was afraid of. I counted down on my fingers. “The cake needs to be frosted, and the dough needs to rise.”

“I know this. I’ve frosted cakes and made dough before.” She swatted my chest with the flowers, then shooed me like I was a stray sprite begging for sugar cubes. “Go on.”

I crossed my arms, refusing to be dismissed that easily as I conjured up all the trouble my apprentice witch could get into without me supervising. “Without magic,” I warned.

She innocently batted her lashes. “Of course, boss. I’ll do it without magic.”

I eyed her coolly. “Promise?”

She drew a pentagram across her chest. “On my word.”

This was a bad idea. I shot my date a nervous glance. Damn, he was so sexy in those tight jeans. Whatever heady cologne he was wearing punched me right in the ovaries, a mixture of sage and something else that screamed ‘I can lick my eyebrows!’ I nervously chewed on my lip. “Ok, but if you have any problems.”

Crossing her arms, Ethyl gave me a stern look. “I won’t.”

Maybe going on this date was a mistake. “The frosting can wait until morning.”

“You’re taking the morning off, too. The cake will be fine.” Ethyl snorted, shooing me away like I was a pesky gnome. “The bakery will be fine.”

My gaze darted to my date, who was looking at me expectantly, his cologne, heated gaze, and full, kissable lips now tying a noose around each ovary and holding them hostage. “I’ll probably be just a few hours.”

She leaned into me, hissing in my ear loud enough for Ric to hear. “You’d better be all night.” Screwing up her face like she’d just sucked on a sour lemon, Ethyl jutted a finger toward the door. “Now go.”

Mortified, I swore my face burned hotter than Mt. Vesuvius. Hurrying past Ric, I refused to look him in the eyes.You’re not sleeping with him, you’re not sleeping with him,I chanted to myself, hoping to the Goddess my libido believed it.

NO AMOUNT OF PINE-SCENTEDair fresheners could mask the scent of formaldehyde in the cab of Ric’s truck. But that was the least awkward part of our trip. I stared out the window like a zombie in a trance, Ethyl’s words flashing in my brain like a giant strobe light of shame. My assistant had basically blared to the world that I needed to sleep with Ric on the first date. Ric must have thought I was one of those fast and loose witches, which I was not. Heck, I hadn’t been with the opposite sex since my divorce. In fact, the only man I’d ever been with had been Colin.

I’d been a bit of a late bloomer, choosing to study rather than date high-school boys. I met Colin my sophomore year of college. I’d been so naive then, ignoring every blaring siren and waving red flag. I’m not quite sure why he’d been the one. I couldn’t have been turned on by his stale breath and demon-possessed colon. Surely, there had to have been another reason. Oh, yes. His family was loaded. He came from new wizard tech money and offered me something most boys couldn’t—financial security. Something I had sorely missed as an orphaned child.

And now I was dating again even though I had a shop to run and my son to raise. I stared at the lights passing in a blur outside the window and wondered, not for the first time, if agreeing to this date had been a mistake.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

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