Karaoke Chemistry: A Witchy Small Town Romcom (Sacred River Book 2)

20. Riggs

IHEAVE A sigh as I hang up the phone from the day’s fourth angry-parent call about why their child deserves special treatment about this thing or the next. I knew this would happen, I really did. What I didn’t expect was for it to be multiple calls per day, nearly every day. It’s the second week of school, people. Second. Week.

God help me when report cards go out.

“Hey, Mrs. Hayes?” I call.

A moment later, the old woman’s head pokes into my office. “Yes, Principal Finlay?”

“What’s the vacation policy for principals? Think I can take two days off after every report card day?”

Her forehead wrinkles in confusion, then clears. “Ah, you’re funny. No wonder you’ve got the whole town eyeballing you.”

I snort. “Highly unlikely.”

She looks at me over her thick glasses. “Principal Finlay. You are a charmer. You have muscles.”

I choke. “Mrs. Hayes, I don’t think?—”

“Oh pfft,” she interrupts. “I’m an old lady and I’ll say what I want. You do know that the mayor is my niece, don’t you? I assure you, she’s well aware of my mouth. You know,” she taps her chin, “she’s single. Smart, too. As long as you’re good with pant suits and an ungodly amount of cats?” She looks at me.

I blink.

She keeps looking at me.

“Oh.” It finally sinks in. “You want me to—um, well, see…”

“Eh, you’re not her type, now that I think about it,” Mrs. Hayes says. “You know, you’re lucky I’ve shielded you from the calls I get wanting to talk to you.”

I pause, thinking of the litany I’ve waded through today. “From…parents?”

She raises a thin eyebrow. “Maybe you’re not as smart as you look. Calls from women, Principal. Women. Who are interested in you, for themselves or their daughters.”

Oh.

Listen, maybe I should have had “fend off interested single women” on my new-to-town Bingo card, but I didn’t.

“Should I start forwarding those calls?”

“No!” I hurry to answer. “Sorry. Um, no. Definitely not.”

She disappears.

“Mrs. Hayes?”

Her head pops back around the door. “Yes?”

“Thanks.”

A genuine smile creases her face. “You’re welcome, Principal Finlay.”

“You ever going to call me Riggs?” I tease.

“Absolutely not,” she responds, then disappears again.

My phone rings again, and I send it to voicemail. Why listen to another parent yell at me about their kid when I could think about the song I’ll pick at karaoke tonight? Grabbing my cell, I open my music app and skim the playlist of my go-to songs.

I all butdemanded Magnolia let me drive her to the bar this week, and she finally relented. And thank god, because I’m going out of my mind with the need to touch her, pull her close, bury my nose in her hair. And maybe, sure, bury something else into her…

I pull up to her house and see I’m easily a half hour early, so I head to the front door. I couldn’t care less if she thinks I’m too eager—because I am. Eager to stop sneaking glances at her in the hallway, eager to do more than FaceTime her at night while she works on lessons or grades, eager to do more than sit next to her at the lunch table, surrounded by teenagers. Who knows? Since I’m here early, maybe I’ll finally drink some of this legendary tea I keep hearing about. Or maybe I won’t; Magnolia seems pretty adamant that I not drink anything unless she’s the one handing it to me.

Voices rise as I near, and before I can even knock, the door is opening and Magnolia is there, her sweet scent wrapping around me as she tugs me inside.

“You’re early,” she murmurs against my neck as I hug her. “I’m sorry in advance.”

I tilt my head. “What’s?—”

“Finally,” comes Quinton’s voice. “Maybe another mere mortal will bring some sense into this craziness.”

I’ve stepped into…a very colorful, very chaotic situation. The energy in here is vastly different than last week when I showed up to take Magnolia on a date, and the fact that I’m suddenly commenting on the energy of a room is not lost on me.

Witches, man.

I recognize Magnolia’s mom and Aspen from the apothecary, and neither one of them seem particularly calm. Willow flutters about like a hummingbird, and Magnolia stands to my left. On the blue velvet couch lays Clementine, with her head in Quinton’s lap, a washcloth on her forehead.

“Are you insinuating that men are the only ones able to be sensible?” Clementine growls from the couch.

“I am not saying that,” Quinton responds in what I bet he thinks is a soothing tone. It’s not, but he’s not looking at me to see the way I’m waggling my eyebrows to tell him to shut his mouth, for the love of god.

“Quit talking to me like I am a child!” Clementine snaps. “I’m a scientist, and just because you showed up doesn’t mean I’m incapable of handling myself.”

I can’t take it anymore. Bro code and all that. “What’s going on?” I ask blandly.

Clementine waves a hand. “I’m fine.” She looks at everyone else as she speaks. “I swear, I’m fine. I just?—”

“She fainted,” Quinton interrupts.

I pull air between my teeth, and all I can think is, Quinton, dude. Shut up.

“It was barely—” Clementine starts.

“She was in the other room, and I heard her fall, and I lost my shit,” Quinton steamrolls over her. “Does she let me take her to the doctor, like a normal person? Of course not. She demands I bring her here and threatens?—”

“Promises,” Clementine corrects.

“Promises if I don’t that she’ll put some kind of spell on me, and I swear to god, all of you witches are going to put me in an early grave.”

Clementine rolls her eyes and tries to sit up. “Honestly.”

“Lay down, woman,” Quinton says, pushing her back down.

“We’re not witches,” she mutters.

We all snort. Even I know she’s delusional if she thinks that.

“Keep telling yourself that.” One of the twins—Juniper or Jasmine, I don’t know which one—says, bringing her a cup of tea. “Mom’s special brew.”

“Can I sit up now, perfume prince?” Clementine asks Quinton.

“I hate it when you call me that,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, well, I hate it when you go all alpha on me, so we’re even.” She sits up and glares at him, then accepts the tea from her sister, bringing it to her nose for a healthy smell or two before drinking.

“Just drink it,” the twin says.

“I’m not about to let you pull one over on me just because I fainted,” Clementine retorts.

Their mom crosses her arms as she leans in the doorway. “It’s just tea. But honestly. You did come here instead of a hospital. What did you think would happen? We’d just let you go about your day?”

Clementine doesn’t answer, and her cheeks flush as she takes her first sip of the tea. “Ooh, Mom. This is really good.”

“Of course it is,” the older woman responds as her thoughtful gaze lands on me. “I know what all my daughters need.”

I stand up straighter, achingly aware that I’m the only person who isn’t family in this room. Even Quinton is at least family by marriage.

“Where’s Jasmine?” Clementine asks. “She’s the only one not here.”

Ah. That means the twin I’m looking at is Juniper.

“Hazel isn’t here,” Aspen says.

“Hazel doesn’t count,” Clementine answers, then amends, “not for this. Where’s Jasmine?”

“At work,” Juniper says.

Clementine sighs. “Well, this will have to do. May as well tell them why I fainted.”

“You sure?” Quinton looks at her.

Clementine stands and gestures for Quinton to do the same. Clasping his hand, she looks around the room. “We’re pregnant.”

The room erupts, and Magnolia smiles softly beside me. I nudge her and keep my voice low. “You knew, didn’t you?”

She nods and nuzzles against me. “I did. I could tell the minute I saw her earlier this week.”

I try not to focus on how good it feels to have her body touching mine.

Quinton speaks up. “You gonna tell them the rest?”

Their mom beats Clementine to it. “Twins.”

The room erupts again, and I incline my head in a congratulations at Quinton.

After another few minutes, Magnolia makes our excuses and we leave. I squeeze her hand, the zing a familiar comfort by now. “Big news back there. You okay?”

“Of course,” she answers too brightly. “I’m happy for them.”

Something’s off, but I know better than to press her. In the car, I jerk my chin at the tote bag at her feet. “Change of clothes?”

She smiles. “Of course.”

“Now that I know about you,” I wave my hand up and down her leg, “why not just…”

She stiffens. “Why not just…what?”

“Be you?”

She’s quiet, and I worry that I’ve crossed a line. No—I’ve definitely crossed a line.

“Sorry,” I murmur.

She heaves out a breath. “It’s okay. I am being me…the way I know how.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have?—”

She puts her hand on my leg, and the familiar spark settles me. “I’m working on it. On…me. It’s been a long few days, that’s all.”

“I understand.”

She smiles softly. “I swear, you are the most well-adjusted man I have ever met.”

I snort a derisive laugh and start the engine. “Wanna talk about it?”

A beat passes, then she pulls the visor down and starts to unbraid her hair. She regards her reflection in the tiny rectangle mirror and says, “I’m still sorting it out.”

I start the car, swallowing and pushing down the hurt that has no business being there. Shit, we’ve barely traded I love yous, and I’m suddenly expecting her to give me all her secrets? Yes, she’s given me some, but that doesn’t mean I’m entitled to all of them. I’m an idiot. “I’m sorry.” I say it more forcefully this time. “I don’t have any right to whatever it is that you’re feeling. What you’re thinking. I want you to know that I’m here. I’m ready. I’ll be here, ready to catch whatever you want to throw at me.”

She studies me. “Why are you like that?”

“Like what? Amazing?” I joke.

She releases my hand and reaches up to cup my cheek, her touch warm and gentle. “Actually, yeah,” she whispers. “Perfect.”

A warmth spreads through me at her words, and I put my hand over hers. “Right back at you, babe.” Then I wink at her and start driving. “Better finish getting ready. I expect to see some butt when you change.”

She laughs and lightly shoves at my jaw. “Pervert.”

She’s completely morphed into Seven by the time I pull us into the parking lot. Sadly, I did not see any butt; the woman definitely has it down to a science. She holds her hand out for mine as we get out of the car, and my breath catches.

Her brow furrows. “What?”

“You.”

She grins. “Now you’re just buttering me up so I’ll let you go first.”

I smirk. “Maybe.” Not really.

No, what’s really going on is that I have fallen for this woman so hard it’s taken my breath away. And no matter what she’s going through, I’m determined to be beside her, every step of the journey.