Chapter 3
Griselda
“So you’re saying that the hottie from the bar is on the other side of that wall?” Lily asked with wide eyes from the screen on my dining table.
I didn’t worry that she was practically screaming her question because I knew Marcus wouldn’t be able to hear her. I had my place locked up tight with magic wards and barriers. None of the words from our three-way video call between Penny, Lily, and I would make it to the other side.
“Yep,” I said, taking another sip of my Sauvignon Blanc. “But I’d like you to remember that I totally ghosted him in the morning without saying bye or exchanging numbers, and I think he’s a little bit pissed.” Okay, maybe more than a little pissed. He couldn’t wait to get me out of his space.
“I still don’t know why you did that,” she said. “He is a complete package. I mean, look at him. He’s clearly a ten, and he’s a business owner to boot.” Then her eyes went wide. “Wait… don’t tell me he was shitty in bed.”
“No,” Penny gasped. “It can’t be.”
I shook my head, rolling my eyes. “I’m not going to go into details, but he was great in that department, too.”
“Then why?” Lily lamented.
“Whhhyyy!” Triscuit, my African grey parrot, shouted from his perch. “Whhhhhhyyyyyy!”
Triscuit eyed my laptop and then started making his way over to it, his eyes on the keys.
“Hey, none of that,” I said, shoving him away.
My two best friends knew I was talking to my pet bird; he’d been around since we were all in college. Triscuit, too, knew I was talking to him. As long as I had my eyes on him, he wouldn’t actually rip all the keys from my laptop, but if I dared look away, anything was fair game.
“I already told you,” I said, directing my attention back to my friends. “I didn’t want to deal with the morning after, so I panicked and left.” Ugh! Saying it out loud didn’t make it sound any better. I was such a chicken when it came to romance.
Did I regret it right now? Yes, yes, I did. If I hadn’t been such a coward, I wouldn’t be in this predicament now.
“And besides,” I continued. “We both went into it knowing it would be casual. I didn’t want to end up being the clingy one. I just didn’t realize I’d end up offending him.” I hadn’t meant to.
Since my offering of buttery goodness the other day, his friend and gym manager, Declan, had shown up several times to order drinks to go. At first I thought that Declan was fully human, but now I wasn’t so sure. I had a feeling he was a shifter of some sort, though I couldn’t put my finger on what. Nothing he did gave it away, either.
I hated to admit it, but I had their order memorized already. One Americano and one café mocha with extra whip. I didn’t know which one of them drank what, though.
I could only guess that he sent his friend over to avoid talking to me.
“Maybe the universe put the two of you together for a reason,” Penny said.
Of course Penny would think that. She’d gotten ultra lucky considering her spell fucked up, and she still managed to hook the world’s hottest, funniest, and peculiarly devoted incubus as her mate. But we didn’t all have her magical good luck.
“At least we’re both on the same page about not selling the place. And that fake homeless guy the land developers sent stays a little farther away now with all the people going in and out.”
“I thought the gym wasn’t opened yet,” Lily said.
“It isn’t. The grand opening isn’t for at least a few weeks.” The day after my visit, contractors came early in the morning to start renovations. All the built-in bookshelves of Ever After Books had come out, as did the walls between the old bookstore and Grandma Evy’s Attic.
According to the chitchat I heard while the contractors lined up for their cuppa joe, they’d only been hired to do the groundwork. Marcus and his friend wanted to do the majority of it themselves, and it would take a while on account of the size of the space.
“Forget about him,” I said. “Are we still up for Saturday?”
Since Penny moved here to join us, our little coven of three made an effort to see each other every weekend. It was a ritual now. The Witch’s Brew closed early on the weekends, 3 p.m. to be exact. We met at six or seven, either here at my place or at the new luxury condo Penny shared with her incubus mate, before deciding what to do for the rest of the evening. Sometimes we visited Delirium, the nightclub owned by Prax’s friend, also an incubus, and sometimes we headed to the Howling Wolf. Other times we just stayed in and played with magic.
“Sure are,” Penny said. “There’s this new spell going around the Let’s Talk About Hex forum, and I—”
Lily and I both groaned.
“The last time you tried an online spell, you summoned a troll from another dimension,” I reminded her.
“And a half-crazed wolf shifter,” Lily said.
“And an evil wizard with goblin henchmen,” I added.
There was the sound of throat clearing before Prax showed up on screen. “And me. Don’t forget me. She summoned me. I make it all worthwhile.”
“You sure do!” Penny pulled Prax in for a kiss and the screen practically shimmered with magic.
“We’ll figure it out on Saturday. We always do,” Lily said. “Your place this time?”
“Yup,” I agreed.
The rattling from my kitchen revealed Triscuit repeatedly trying to open the child-locked cabinets.
“I gotta go,” I said. “The birb baby is hungry, and if I don’t feed him now he’s liable to tear down my home.”
“I still say Triscuit is too big to be a birb with two B’s,” Penny said. “Birbs are supposed to be small, round, and cute.”
“He’s small enough! And birbs don’t need to be round. And cute is subjective. Triscuit is cute enough in my books.”
Having recognized the word and his name and fully knowing we were talking about him, Triscuit shouted, “Triscuit wanna biscuit!” at the top of his little lungs.
“Cute and hungry,” I clarified.
I hung up and made a quick dinner for my feathered friend, which was mostly pelleted food supplemented with vegetables, sprouted seeds, fruits, and a few nuts as treats. Triscuit proceeded to dig into his meal, making a big mess as he always did.
I sighed at the sounds of many little pellets hitting the floor. Bird mom problems. That was what handheld vacuums were for. I’d gone through so many of them that I was tempted to start a review channel just for vacuums. I totally should.
With that out of the way, I sat at the table and microwaved some leftover pasta for myself. Many people, upon finding out that I owned a coffee shop, erroneously concluded that I was also a good cook. I didn’t know why they related the two, but it wasn’t true. Yes, I could cook. And I could bake, too, but it didn’t mean I enjoyed it or was good at it. I specialized in beans only. And even then, only the drinkable kind.
People coming into the Witch’s Brew usually assumed the pastries were made in-house, even though it was written right there on the sign that they came from For Goodness Bakes, a witch-owned and operated bakery on the other side of town.
Which reminded me… I picked up my phone and called the number to For Goodness Bakes. Nina picked up after four rings.
“Hey, Griselda, how can I help you?”
“I’m going to need to change up the order for the next little while,” I said. “Business has been slow lately.”
I felt bad springing this on her, but as another business owner, she understood. By the end of the call, we’d worked out a new agreement for the next few weeks. I finished my food and then quickly cleaned up after Triscuit before putting him to bed, tossing his favorite blanket over his cage.
Then I grabbed the basket with my latest crochet project and my purse, threw on my super warm, polar fleece bat wing robe, slipped into my fuzzy slippers, and stepped out into the stairway. Instead of going to the coffee shop, I headed up to the rooftop patio.
It was winter, but I had two of those umbrella patio heaters up there, something I’d originally bought for the coffee shop but never used. I turned them on, basking in the radiant warmth for a moment before putting my basket down and settling into my wicker love seat after wiping off the newly fallen snow.
I placed my purse on the side table and opened it. It was spelled to open into one of my cabinets, where I’d preemptively put a hot cup of mint tea. I reached in, took it out, took a sip, then placed the tea back into my cupboard. It’d stay warm in there a lot longer than out here.
Then I started on my project, which was yet another hexagon cardigan because why not? I had the pattern memorized by this point and could make one in my sleep. At night, the hustle and bustle of downtown Darlington died down, and there was nothing like crocheting at the end of the day in my little bubble of warmth surrounded by the peace of the snow-covered terrace with the stars twinkling overhead.
My peaceful stitching was rudely interrupted by the sound of a door swinging open several feet away from where I sat. The metal door slammed loudly into the brick wall next to it.
“What the fu—” I jumped to my feet, armed with my crochet hook and ready to protect myself.
In front of me stood Marcus in all his minotaur glory, completely free of the glamor spell he’d had on earlier. His eyes were a glowing amber, and horns sprouted from his head. He wore nothing but a pair of slightly too-tight gym shorts that barely covered his powerful legs and hooves. His chest was bare and covered in sweat. The metal of his nipple piercings was highlighted against his tanned skin.
I stood there, slack-jawed. How could I have forgotten that he’d have a key to the rooftop as well? In my defense, my old neighbors rarely came up here, and I was used to having the place to myself.
“Oops, I didn’t—” he began.
My robe decided that now was a good time to fall open, showing my red, low-cut, barely-there satin nightie.
Marcus’s tiny shorts struggled to hide his reaction.
Do not stare. Do not stare. My eyes betrayed me, and I stared.
One moment he was there, and the next the door was slamming shut again. Then he was gone.