Chapter 5 Midnight Diner #2
I could lie and say I wasn't starving for blood, but there was no hiding the shake in my hands. “Yes, if it’s really not too much. Thank you.”
Liz smiled at us. “What do you want, honey?”
When she placed a milkshake in front of me, the color a deep pink, I grabbed the straw eagerly.
Sweet cream and strawberry hit my tongue, followed by the taste of blood.
It wasn’t nearly as delicious as Rowen’s witch blood, but I sucked down half of the milkshake before I could stop myself.
It was just enough blood to take the edge off, and I let out a long sigh.
Rowen watched me with brows furrowed. “When was the last time you fed?”
“A couple of days ago,” I said, avoiding looking into his eyes. The glass clinked on the tabletop as I set it down.
Our server returned with two plates of breakfast. Steam rose off the plates, tempting me.
“Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else.”
Rowen’s eyes stayed on me, but he addressed Liz. “Can we get a stronger drink for Sadie, please?”
“No,” I said, holding my hand up. He’d spent enough on me. “I’m fine. I’ve got plans to feed tonight. It would be a waste.”
“If you’re sure,” Rowen grumbled, his eyes narrowed as he studied me.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” Liz said, her voice soft with concern.
I wanted to hide my face in my hands, hating her pity, but the food was too tempting. With a forced smile, I picked up my fork and stabbed a bite of hashbrowns.
Everything was delicious. I tried to go slow and not stuff my face as fast as possible, but I was hungrier than I realized. My belly ached with that volume of food, but I still sat back and sipped my strawberry-and-blood milkshake.
“So tell me about the bakery. It’s a family thing, right? Your sister didn’t say much, other than that she was leaving and felt bad about it.”
“Amelie did most of the front-of-house stuff,” he said, mirroring my position and picking up his cup of coffee. “Now I’ll have to take over more of that, but I’m looking for part-time help. I’d rather be baking.”
“But that’s why you hired me!” I said, trying to sound like I was joking, but my heart rate picked up at the suggestion that I wouldn’t be needed.
“There’s plenty of baking to go around,” he said, smirking. “Don’t worry, Sadie.”
I loved how he said my name, smooth and rich. I wanted to hear it again, whispered against my ear. The thought had my cheeks flushing. Hoping he didn’t notice, I drank the last of my milkshake and set the fluted glass down.
The diner was empty except for two older men reading newspapers at the far end, so Liz’s eyes were on us. I tapped my manicure against the glass and gave her a thumbs up to show my appreciation. Already the blood was soothing the ache in my gut, and between that and the food, I was feeling good.
We were done eating, but Rowen didn’t seem worried about returning to work. Liz refilled his coffee and brought a cup for me. I added some creamer, feeling Rowen’s eyes on every inch of my skin as I stirred it in.
“So where did you live before Pumpkin Hollow?” he asked.
“Albany. What about you? Have you lived in Pumpkin Hollow your whole life?”
“Yup, that’s part of the family bakery situation. We’re third-generation residents. My mom and dad met on vacation, and then he convinced her to come visit and she never left.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet. Are they still together?”
His expression slackened. “No, she passed away a few years ago. Being a healing witch is hard on the body.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
My fingers tightened on my cup as I fought the urge to reach across the table and touch him. His eyes were stormy as he glanced at the window and the dark shapes of buildings and trees beyond.
“I’m lucky to have two magics. It makes it much less likely that my healing magic will hurt me someday.”
“I’m glad for that,” I said, my voice low. “It must have been hard to see that happen to your mom.”
He smiled again, but it was soft and sad.
“It’s okay. I was older when it happened. She was the best mom growing up. My dad worked in the bakery with my grandma, but he moved away after she passed. He couldn’t stick around without her. But I took his place, and that’s my entire life story.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
A beat of silence passed between us, with only the soft voices of Liz and her line cook talking beyond in the kitchen.
Rowen tilted his head, seizing my attention. “What about you?”
My instinct was to deflect, but I owed him something after all that he shared. Swallowing, I forced the words out.
“My family life wasn’t that picture-perfect. My parents were never together, and my mom isn’t a fan of actually mothering her kids. It’s not my favorite topic. Honestly, I’d rather hear more about you and your magic.”
“Okay,” Rowen said. I hated the pity in the way his lips curved down and his brow pinched.
It was time to change the topic. “So healing, I get. But what’s involved with being a kitchen witch?”
He shifted in his seat, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. The movement highlighted his broad chest. He was unexpectedly well built for someone who spent all day baking, but after a few days in the kitchen, I was learning it wasn’t a bad workout. It certainly worked for him.
Rowen cleared his throat and I looked up, embarrassed that he caught me staring at his body. But who could blame me? He had to know how handsome he was.
Always the gentleman, Rowen ignored my impropriety.
“‘Kitchen witch’ really means household magic. If you’re thinking of enchanted foods, it’s more likely an apothecary witch. I’m better at small magics—mending, cleaning, heating, cooling, making people feel comfortable.
“Don’t get me wrong, I can make a cake with magic baked into it. But it would be a small emotional boost, like confidence or calming. I can’t infuse my healing into pastries, like some witches can do with tea.”
“What else?”
He chuckled and I wanted to wrap myself in the sound. “I’m pretty good at using candles for enchantments. Oh, and my magic lends itself to protection really well, so I can place wards in homes pretty easily. But overall, it’s nothing too impressive.”
“Rowen, are you kidding? That’s all incredible. It sounds super useful. I had no idea you could do so much.”
His expression softened into a warm smile that sent my heart fluttering.
“So do you have any vampire abilities?" he asked.
“Nope, I’m completely boring. Bargain-bin vampire, here,” I said, wrinkling my nose.
Instead of arguing with me, Rowen rolled his eyes. “I bet you have some talent, even if it’s not baking, obviously.”
His grin took the sting out of his words. I sucked in a sharp breath when I realized he was teasing me!
“Hey! I felt like I was making good progress.” I swatted at his arm.
His head dropped and he gave me a wry grin, looking at me through his thick burgundy lashes. “You’re right. You’re taking to it like a duck to water.”
“A duck? That’s what you’re comparing me to?” Scowling at him, I crossed my arms over my chest, pretending to be outraged.
Rowen shrugged and held up his hands, palms open. “What? Ducks are cute.”
Slowly, my mouth curved into a sweet smile, and I fluttered my lashes at him. “You think I’m cute?”
Now Rowen’s cheeks were flaming. He cleared his throat, looking away from me. “I guess we should get back.”
Worried I’d gone too far, I readily agreed with him. “Totally. We probably have more baking to do tonight, right?”
He nodded roughly, his eyes on his wallet. Liz appeared a moment later, holding our check.
Rowen paid the bill and thanked her for the delicious food. Her plump cheeks blushed. “Thanks, we’ve got a new line cook. I’ll pass along the compliment.”
I waved goodbye and followed Rowen out of the diner and onto the dark street. It had gotten cold as the night aged, and I couldn’t help my shiver.
“Come here,” Rowen said, wrapping his arm over my shoulders.
It might be a bad idea, but it felt so good to melt into him. He was warm, and we heated more when he muttered a spell over us.
Our walk back took twice as long as he held me close. Rowen released me the moment we reached the door, and disappointment sent my heart plummeting.
The rest of the evening we worked in quiet companionship, as if our dinner together had ironed out the rough edges and brought us to an understanding. And I only spilled a little flour.