Page 35 of Witch Upon a Star
His face was scrunched slightly, like he was trying to remember. “I bumped into you and I didn’t fall head over heels for you then? Christ, I’m a dumbass.”
I laughed. “If you recall, at least on your end, this wasn’t love at first sight.”
“Like I said,dumbass.” He stepped away and took my hand. “Come on, I need to get some food into you. And I want to hear more about your beekeeping.”
“That’s so interesting.”Normally, I’d expect those words to sound bland or even derisive in regard to my beekeeping, but Starbucks actually sounded fascinated. Likereallyfascinated and he wasn’t just placating me. “I honestly thought that the flavors of honey were added after the fact. Like they were chemicals or something.”
We were sitting in a booth in the back corner of the bar. After hearing everyone refer to him as ‘Starbucks’ or ‘Star’, I decided that I should too. At least, when we were out in public. Despite him saying he didn’t care, it seemed important to him. Like not acknowledging a promotion or a station he’d earned. So I was doing my damndest to also call him ‘Starbucks’. I’d only slipped up one time since we’d sat down.
I liked that he was sitting on the same side of the booth as me. I was against the wall, and though the booth could have fit three small people, we were squeezed in so tightly that our thighs were practically welded together. I didn’t mind in the slightest.
We were sharing an appetizer sampler, filled with stuffed mushrooms, mac ’n cheese bites, jalapeño poppers, mozzarella sticks, and hush puppies. He’d also ordered a steak and fries while I got a black and bleu salad, but those hadn’t arrived yet. His one-and-done beer was already finished and he now had a Coke. I’d been encouraged to try a Purple Rain with a sugared violet garnish. It was sweet enough to cover up the alcohol but I was still sipping it slowly and alternating between it and my water.
I was also saving my garnish for last because I loved violets.
“A lot are,” I answered, picking up a mozzarella stick. “But if you get true pure honey, it wouldn’t be. For example,my buckwheat honey is from when my bees pollinated those plants. Clover honey is popular in this area too. I collect the raw honey, along with extra comb, from my apiary.”
“What’s the difference between raw and pure honey?” he asked. While Starbucks was shifted towards me on the seat, I could tell he was not oblivious to the things going on in the bar behind him. Anytime someone approached our table or even just walked by, he reacted. It made me wonder if he was sitting this way to protect me or to be close to me.
So far, I had met Ranger, Ghost, Grumpy, and a prospect named Viktor. Dosia had texted that neither she nor Pumpkin were going to be coming by but she was excited to hear about my date. She also wanted all the details.
I dipped my mozzarella stick in the marinara. “Pure honey means it’s a hundred percent honey, no additives. It’s also different from organic honey, which means the plants the bees pollinated were also organic. Raw honey is what’s in the hives. Basically, it’s the honey before I clean it.”
“You ‘clean’ honey?”
I waved my mozzarella stick at him. “Of course I do.” He leaned forward and took a bite out of my stick. I glared at him. “Honey straight from the hive can have dirt or grit in it just like anything else found outdoors. Do you clean veggies before you eat them?”
“Who says I eat veggies?” he shot back at me, still chewing on my cheese stick.
I shook my head, smiling. I loved talking with him. It was so easy, like we’d been doing it all our lives. “You’ll eat your veggies, sir. Because I want you to live to a ripe old age.”
“Cracking the whip already?” Starbucks’ smile was pure lust. “Fuck, that really shouldn’t be so hot.”
He leaned towards me. We still hadn’t had our first kiss. He’d brushed his lips close to mine, kissed my temple, my cheek, my forehead… But no kiss yet. My heart hammered in my chest, anticipation making my blood sing.
But just before his lips made contact, I let out a gasp and turned my head towards the front entrance. A second later, three women walked in. The one in front was the blonde from my vision on Saturday, the one who’d told someone on the phone she was pregnant with Starbucks’ baby.
Starbucks must have sensedmy reaction, because he straightened up and turned to see what had drawn my attention away from him. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that he immediately spotted the blonde and could guess that was who had distracted me. And then I felt like a total bitch for, one, ruining what should have been my first kiss and, two, even reacting in the first place. Why did her entering the bar even bother me? It shouldn’t.
From my seat in the back of the bar, I could tell she wasn’t pregnant. While Dosia’s pregnancies had unique identifiers, I could always sense pregnancy or illness in others. Well, most everyone. Some were natural blockers, like magical duds. I couldn’t read them even if they came with a free audiobook.
But the blonde? I could read her very clearly, and she wasn’t pregnant. Which made me believe that I’d been correct. If she’d won Starbucks’ auction, she’d planned ongetting pregnant by him. The sour taste in my mouth I’d gotten from that vision led me to believe that Starbucks wouldn’t have been in on the plan. While he would have been a willing participant in—gag—the sex part, he wouldn’t have been in procreating.
Normally when someone had ill intentions, there was a darkness surrounding them. I didn’t see auras like some could. For me, it was more like a shadow or a cloud than a shimmering glow. Looking at the blonde now, though, there was no darkness to her. Was that because she hadn’t come herenowwith dark intentions or had her original intentions from my vision not been dark all along?
My eyes scrunched in confusion, because I wasn’t sure. That vision had come to me so randomly. I didn’t know the blonde. As far as I knew, we’d never met before. I didn’t even know her name. Yet I’d had a vision of her. That was unusual in and of itself because I normally only had those surrounding people I was close to, like Dosia or my parents. The visions I had of Starbucks were intimate and personal, but I never considered them out of place because hewasmy future. When I had the vision of the blonde at the auction, I’d assumed the vision was about Starbucks being the father. It was the only explanation as to why I would have such a strong vision about a stranger. Her actions would influence my future, even if indirectly.
Had I been wrong? Had I made an assumption based on fear and jealousy? What if sitting here now with Starbucks, starting our future outside of what Fate had planned for us, was all a mistake, because I’d misinterpreted a vision?
“Do you know Kora?”
I blinked, my eyes leaving the blonde by the bar andgoing to the man sitting in the booth next to me. “What? No. I… I mean, I remember her from the auction.”
His dark eyes studied me for a moment, assessing. “You know we were sleeping together.”
My cheeks flushed, and not just from his blunt honesty. I ducked my head. I had no idea how to answer his statement or even if I should.
I felt his fingers under my chin, gently lifting my head back up to his eyelevel. “Winnie, it wasn’t serious.None of themwere serious.” I was sure he meant that statement to be comforting, but all it did was remind me that he had slept witha lotof women in this town, the next, and Goddess only knew where else. “It was sex, nothing more. I’ve never been on a date with any of them. I’ve never,” he cracked a smile, “eaten any of their mozzarella sticks.”
