Page 37 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
Room for one more for dinner?
With a small nod, she hovered her thumb over the send button, but before she could hit it, the door opened under her hand. She let out a surprised yelp, and her phone slipped from her grip, hitting the floor. She looked up to find Owen standing in front of her.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “I tried waving through the glass, but you didn’t see me.” He knelt down and picked up Florence’s phone then handed it to her.
“I was about to close up,” Florence said.
“Mind if I grab a book before you do?” As if on cue, a paperback fell off a nearby shelf. He grinned. “Maybe that one?”
“You don’t even know what it is yet,” Florence said.
Owen shrugged. “I’ve yet to have a book fall at my feet in this shop that I didn’t love.”
“Even the rom-coms?” Florence asked.
“Especially the rom-coms,” he said.
She laughed, gave the wall by the door a little pat, and said, “All right, let’s ring you up.”
Owen jogged toward the book laying face up in front of one of the end caps. Ink had already beat him to it and sat swiping at the spine with his paw. Owen scratched him between the ears before he held up the paperback, revealing one of Florence’s favorite magical realism novels about the Flores sisters—three witches in a small Appalachian town.
“I know what you’re doing,” she murmured under her breath to the shop. The bell over the door tinkled in response, and it took everything in her to suppress her smile.
“What was that?” Owen asked.
“Just that I love that book,” she said.
“Then I’m definitely buying it.”
Her lips curled upward against her will as she went to meet him at the register.
“How was the house?” she asked.
“You couldn’t even tell it burned.”
Florence worried at her lip. Evie, eternal optimist that she was, would probably take it as a sign that her efforts to break the curse had worked and there was nothing to worry about.
“And the festival?” Florence asked. “Is it still on?”
“The grounds seemed fine. The bees weren’t at all bothered when I went to check on them,” Owen said. “Though I hope Evie would’ve told me if she was planning to cancel. There aren’t any vacant rooms left in town, so I’ll be spending the night in my car, which is why I need reading material.” He held up the book.
Florence looked from Owen to the book and back to Owen. Something in her almost offered up a spot on her couch, but if Evie really was going to move forward with the festival, that would put Owen at Honeysuckle House on the thirteenth. She didn’t want to endanger him anymore than she already had.
“If I had a spare room …”
Owen held up his hands. “Oh no, I didn’t mean …” He shook his head. “If the car ends up not working, I can drive the hour to Knoxville and grab a room there.”
Florence flushed and rubbed at the back of her neck. “Maybe you should get a second book. Just in case.”
“Not a bad idea,” Owen said. He did a quick turn toward the shop, when the lights winked on and off in the far corner. “What’s back there?”
Florence followed his gaze. It was past the children’s book section, where she most often found Clara disappearing when she came to visit the shop.
“Picture books,” Florence said.
This time, all the lights in the shop winked out except for those in the children’s corner, including the power to the register. Owen and Florence stared at each other in the dark, his pupils growing as he took her in. Florence was the first to break eye contact.
“I better go check the breaker,” she said, even though she knew the shop was up to something. “You can take the book and pay for it later.”
