Page 14 of The Pumpkin Spice Spell
“Mom! Stop it,” I groan. I doubt that is true. She's just messing with me.
“What? Just helping you sell books,” she says innocently.
There’s absolutely nothing innocent about it.
I’m stacking a new shipment of candles on the front table when I hear the bell over the door jingle. Before I can even look up, Rowan's voice floats in, syrupy and smug. “Well, well, well…speak of the flannel-wearing devil.”
I don’t have to turn around to know who she’s talking about. I can feel him behind me, like gravity just shifted slightly toward the front of the shop.
“Who?” I ask anyway, feigning indifference as I straighten a row of amber glass candle jars labeled Witch’s Hearth.
I glance up, and he's sliding onto a stool. His eyes meet mine and soften. “Hey, Willa.”
My mom joins in from her usual perch at the counter, warm and teasing. “He’s got that whole lumberjack grump thing going for him now, doesn’t he?”
My cheeks heat instantly, but I keep my back to them. “Mom, he can hear you. Do you all have anything better to do?” I mumble, adjusting the candle display like it’s suddenly the most important task in the world.
“Oh, we’re doing exactly what we should be doing,” Ivy pipes up from the other end of the shop, smirking. “Speaking of...it's time for my break. You'll need to help Tate with his order.”
I straighten my apron and head over to the coffee shop and face him.
His Red Sox cap is pulled low, beard a little more scruffy than the last time I saw him, sleeves shoved up to reveal those infuriatingly perfect forearms I could run my fingers up. He’s leaning against the counter like he owns the place, and despite myself, my eyes linger a little too long on the way his jeans sit low on his hips, and the hint of sun at his collarbone.
He takes off his cap and runs his fingers through his hair, still damp from a shower.
My mind wanders to him in the shower.
Get it together, Willa.
My mom grins at him, ever the instigator. “So, Tate, what’s new since you’ve been back?”
He just shrugs, easy and casual. “Not much. Buying a truck and fixing up my dad’s old fishing boat. Planning to work it again.”
My heart drops when he says this.It’s like a light switch flips.
“Oh, so you decided to stick around?” Lilith asks.
He shrugs, but his eyes never leave me, as if he’s waiting to see how I’ll respond.
The words hit me like a cold splash of harbor water. Fixing up his dad’s boat. Working it again.
Suddenly, my throat goes dry, and a pit opens in my stomach. Because I know exactly what that means.Long days, early mornings. Cold, choppy seas. Not everyone who goes out comes back.Just like our dads. But I say nothing.I shove the worry deep down, like I always do, tuck it away behind a carefully constructed smile. I turn toward him, keeping my expression neutral, cool, even bored, and force myself into “regular customer” mode.
“Let me know if you need anything,” I say deliberately casual, my tone light but my insides twisting.
He lifts his chin in acknowledgment, his gaze catching mine for half a second, just long enough for my stomach to flip before I look away. He wanders across the room to browse the books but him being here has me feeling like an awkward teenager.
My mom leans across the counter, chin in her hand. “He’s all grown up, Willa. When did that happen?”
“Didn’t notice,” I say flatly, moving behind the register and pretending to rearrange receipts that absolutely do not need rearranging.
But of course, Rowan can’t leave it alone.
“She’s lying,” she singsongs, bumping my hip with hers as she slides in next to me. “She noticed, and she's been noticing. Haven’t you, Willa?”
I grit my teeth, keeping my face carefully blank. “Nope.”
Ivy snorts from the corner. ‘You’re practically vibrating, sis. You haven’t looked this flustered since you realized someone bent the spine on your favorite book, and you still haven't been able to forgive them.’”
