Page 70 of The Pumpkin Spice Spell
“The book shop! Willa has cookies!”
That’s all the motivation I need.
The bookstore is glowing like something out of a snow globe with a warm light in the windows, paper bats flying overhead, a carved pumpkin with a smirking black cat perched on the steps.Ivy stands out front, handing out cider in a cream-colored wrap dress that makes Remy double-take.
Not just a glance. Alook. A slow one. With heat behind it. Interesting. I nudge him. “You good?”
“What? I’m fine.” He clears his throat and drops his gaze, busying himself with Junie’s wings. “She always dresses like that.”
“She always make your ears turn red, too?”
Remy scowls. I grin.
Ivy’s face lights up when she sees Junie. “Oh, my little woodland fairy queen! You’re just the cutest sprinkle of magic!”
Junie giggles as Ivy hands her a tiny sugar cookie shaped like a mushroom. “Thank you, Miss Ivy!”
Then the door swings open, and Willa steps out, and sweethell.
She’s wearing a black corset, a crushed velvet mini-skirt, and fishnets that are doing things to my brain I shouldn’t legally even be thinking about in the presence of a five-year-old. Her lips are painted plum and her dark hair is pinned with glittering stars, like she just fell out of a witchy pin-up calendar.
She sees me. Smiles. And I am officially a goner.
“You lose your ship, Captain?” she asks, arching a brow as she hands out cookies.
“Looking to anchor somewhere warm,” I say, stepping close enough to smell her cinnamon perfume. “Any recommendations?”
“If you needed someone to keep you warm,” she purrs, “you could’ve just asked.”
Jesus. I nearly drop the damn cookie.
Behind us, Ivy nearly chokes on her cider, muttering, “Y’all wanna dial the heat down to a mild flirt before someone combusts?”
“I vote no,” Willa says sweetly, eyes never leaving mine.
Junie eats her cookie and declares. “You two should kiss.”
Remy snorts. “Okay, time to keep this tour moving.”
We join the stream of costumed chaos down Main Street, stopping at the bait shop where Old Pete hands out gummy worms from a tackle box and tells Junie she looks like a “sparkle bug.” At Donna’s house, she’s wearing a medieval dress and leather jacket and handing out signed copies of her latest novel.
“This one’s for you,” she says, handing one to Willa with a wink. “It’s got a very broody fisherman in it.”
“I think I already have one of those,” Willa says under her breath and gives me a smirk.
I laugh. Junie slides her hand into mine, and we keep moving.
We hit the diner for hot cider and kettlecorn. The liquor store for tiny bottles of whiskey. The ice cream parlor is giving away maple fudge bites and encouraging people to vote for best costume.
And through it all, Willa and I keep brushing hands. Shoulders. Smiles that last a little too long. She laughs as if I haven’t ruined everything. I touch her back like I haven’t missed her every damn second.
We reach the old train depot, which Rowan, and Lilith have transformed into a “Mystic Oracle Tent.” Inside, the air smells like clove and something fizzy.
“Three cards each,” Rowan says, smacking a deck onto the table. “Fates are being revealed tonight.”
Willa chooses a card. The Sun.
“I’ll take it,” she says, grinning.
