Page 40 of Bewitched & Bewildered
“I sure can. Right this way.” I lead her to the other side of the shop. “What are you looking for? A shapeshifting potion?”
Her footsteps stop. “What?”
“We’re having a special on them,” I say. “But I have anything you could want. Good luck, attraction, money drawing, something that stops your hair from going gray.” I touch the front of my hair, where I have several gray streaks.
“I hope you’re not planning on using that.”
“What?” I blink.
“The potion… on your gray hairs. They make you look distinguished.”
And shapeshifting makes Juniper bold.
I tilt my head to the side. “You think so?”
“I do.” She clears her throat. “Tell me about the good luck potion. Do you brew them in-house?”
“I don’t. I only put the finest potions and products on these shelves, which means outsourcing when necessary. They’re made by a talented witch in Augusta. I can give you her card if you want to look into her before buying.”
“That would be helpful…” She trails off.
Juniper is a talented potion maker herself. She has no reason to contact the other witch—and it’s one leg up she has on our little one-sided competition.
“I’ll find her card.” I turn away and wander behind the counter, ruffling around.
To my surprise, she stays close, standing at the counter as I look.
“If you can’t find it,” she says, “it’s fine.”
“Oh, I’m going to find it.”
I lift a folder and open it, rifling around the papers and cards. I have information for those who grow my herbs, make my candles, and…
Ah. There it is.
I turn to Juniper with the card between my fingers. “You can contact her over email or phone—whatever is best.”
“Great.” She snatches the card from me and looks away as she slips it into her wallet. “Thank you.”
“You know,” I say, “not that you asked my opinion, but you look better with dark hair.”
It’s not the sort of thing I would usually tell someone. Considering she’s trying to trick me, I’ll make an exception.
She freezes. The look on her face is worth it. Blood rushes to her cheeks, and she swallows thickly.
“I don’t know what you?—”
“You do.”
“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” Her voice drops to the usual low, sensual timbre. Her eyes lift to meet mine.
I cock my head to the side, waiting for her to give up the act.
Even in disguise, Juniper is stubborn. Her hands move to her hips, and she meets me with a set jaw.
“Juniper,” I say. “I know it’s you.”
“How?” Her voice raises, and the flush moves from her face to her chest. One thing she can’t hide is her tendency to blush. I love the way the warmth spreads over her skin.
