Page 27 of Whisked Away
“Taking care of parents?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling. The sound of it does strange things to my insides.
“A younger sister, actually.”
“Ah.”
He takes a step closer to me. I was wrong to think Ethan smelled only of the pastries he spends his days creating. That’s there, like a coat he wears, but beneath it, there’s something warmer—earthy, like cedarwood.
I tilt my chin up, becauseforgetmy career, forget the lavender cake, forget photographing, forget writing, even. All I want is his mouth on mine, his broad hand gliding along my neck, his?—
“Hola, good morning, Boss.”
Zoe walks in through the back door and is halfway to hanging her jacket on a hook when she stops to stare at both of us.
“Sorry. Did I interrupt something?”
“No,” Ethan and I both say together so quickly that it’s clear the answer is yes.
Zoe purses her lips until they pop, then turns and grabs her apron. “Okay, then.”
I step back, my heart hammering against my ribs. The loss of his nearness feels like stepping from sunlight into shade.
“I should take a couple of pictures,” I say before turning toward where I’d dropped my camera bag. My fingers tremble. Ugh. Damn me for getting so flustered over this man. I don’t get flustered. I ask sharp questions, take meticulous notes, and keep my emotions in check. Even if he is six feet of gorgeous baker with eyes that remind me of summer skies.
Zoe gives her hips a little shimmy. “I have a playlist that’s going to knock your socks off this morning, Boss, City Girl.”
“City Girl?” I lift my face from behind the camera. Ethan has returned to the simmering milk, but he groans loudly enough for it to reach us.
“Ignore him,” Zoe whispers to me. “He won’t tell you this, but he hired me because I’m the fun half of the Whisk. Didn’t know a thing about baking when we started the place.”
I chuckle just as Zoe slips her phone out and starts blasting Earth, Wind & Fire through speakers I hadn’t noticed before.
How did Zoe and Ethan start the Whisk together? Why would he choose someone who had no baking experience? And how did he end up in Magnolia Cove of all places?
Throughout the morning, Ethan and Zoe act in perfect synchronization, like dancers who’ve rehearsed the steps a thousand times. He doesn’t even look up when she slides a bowl of something that smells like cinnamon and sunshine to him. For someone who supposedly taught her everything about baking in the last three years, their rhythm feels very… practiced.
And Magnolia Cove itself. I’ve visited dozens of small coastal towns for the magazine, but none of them feel quite like this. None of them have air that sometimes seems to sparkle, or shadows that move when they shouldn’t, or baked goods that taste like memories feel.
My camera captures Ethan as he pipes delicate swirls onto the lavender cake. His hands never hesitate, never falter. Like magic, I think, then I almost laugh at myself. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. There has to be.
Doesn’t there?
Ethan
Running a bakery while hiding magic from a particularly observant food writer is a lot like trying to frost a wedding cake in an earthquake. Technically possible, but likely to end in disaster.
I should have said no when Alex asked to apprentice for the week. Dean would have wanted me to. But the memory of her lips nearly brushing mine, of her body heat radiating against my skin, of vanilla perfume mingling with rising dough—it haunts me. The wanting sits deep in my bones, an ache I can’t shake. Alex Sinclair looks at me like I’m something special, like I’m more than just magic and secrets and shame. Like I’m someone worth knowing.
And that’s exactly why I should have turned her away. Because the more time she spends here, watching me with those keen eyes that miss nothing, the harder it becomes to remember all the reasons I can’t have this. Can’t have her.
“Quick, distract her!” I hiss at Zoe as Alex’s footsteps echo down the hallway. My hands hum with magic as I infuse comfort into a batch of chocolate chip cookies. We can’t let Alex see the shimmer.
Zoe springs into action, practically throwing herself into Alex’s path. “Oh my god, did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally dyed one of our sourdough starters blue?” It’s completely made up—we’d never risk the precious starters—but Alex doesn’t know that. She pauses in the doorway, notebook in hand. I make use of the time, infusing as much magic as I can.
“And that’s why we had to rename Sir Rise-a-Lot to Blues Clues for an entire month,” Zoe finishes with a dramatic flourish.
Alex laughs, the sound warming me more than any magic could. She’s been here for days now, watching us work, taking notes, asking questions. Her presence is intoxicating and terrifying in equal measure. Every time she walks into a room, my magic hums beneath my skin, eager to show off. To show her everything.
But I can’t. Even if the Council hadn’t strictly forbidden it, the memory of Sarah’s screams still haunts me. The way her eyes had widened in horror, how she’d backed away…
