Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
S prinkles and Scoops, the ice cream parlor, was the newest business in the Grove and the best place to get dessert. The neon-pink sign against the flowered wallpaper by the entrance said “You deserve an extra scoop.” There was a chalkboard menu on the wall that listed the new fall flavors and prices. Customers stood in a line, buzzing about which flavors they wanted to try over the whir of the blender. The sugary scent of waffle cones being pressed and cooked filled the air and tickled Sirena’s nose. She tapped her fingers together as she surveyed the flavors behind the glass. The titles were attached to the tubs: Pumpkin pie. Butter pecan. Caramel apple. Candy brownie. Harvest cake.
Sirena turned to Gus, who stood at her side. “I want them all.”
He dipped his head. “Good. I’ll get us the sample platter of them all.” A playful, almost hopeful gleam entered his eyes. “I hope we don’t cause too much trouble.”
“A little trouble can be a good thing,” she said enthusiastically.
Gus gave her a sly wink, as if they were planning an ice cream heist. How did he make the simplest things feel like an adventure?
Sirena got a table in the corner while Gus got and paid for their order.
She glanced around the ice cream shop, giving smiles to the other customers, who happily gobbled down their treats. Wow. That pixie who was practically swimming into his waffle cone seemed to be enjoying his caramel apple ice cream a lot. She wiggled in her seat, ready to have a taste of their treats. Ten minutes later, Gus joined her at their table, holding a tray of five cups, each filled with a different flavor. He produced a spoon from his pocket for Sirena. Her fingers brushed against his, and she felt how soft they were. She quickly yanked the spoon from Gus, trying to keep her mind from going off into dreamland.
“Tell me who told you that you weren’t fun,” Gus said as he settled into his seat. “Give me their address. I want to talk to them about a few things.”
The gruff note of protectiveness in his voice made her grin.
Sirena dug her spoon into the caramel apple scoop. “Thanks for the offer but no one told me anything. I figured I need to change things.”
“I’m curious why you started with fun,” he said. Gus scooped up some candy brownie and ate a bite. He visibly brightened. “That’s nice.”
She tasted her ice cream, sliding the generous amount into her mouth. Ooh. That was the good stuff. It was rich and creamy, with hints of cider and a ribbon of caramel. Sirena did a little dance. Gus nodded; a smile played on his lips. “It’s good, huh?”
Sirena groaned in satisfaction.
There was a faint glint of enjoyment in his eyes. As if he liked seeing her have pleasure.
“I don’t have a lot of time to make some changes in my life,” she admitted.
If the spellbook was right, if she didn’t achieve her goal, she’d repeat the entire month.
Gus tilted his head to the side. “Are you going somewhere?”
Not if I can help it. Sirena scooped another flavor of ice cream into her mouth to keep herself from telling him everything. Well, since he was helping her, she could tell him something—at least enough to calm his concerns.
She finished her bite. “I have a cooking interview that can’t be moved. Lately, my cooking has been boring.”
“How? Are you forgetting the salt and pepper?”
Sirena swirled her spoon between her fingers, fighting against the rising pain of a brain freeze. “No, but it tastes bland. It doesn’t even taste good or bad—it tastes floppy. Imagine eating dry cardboard on top of wet carboard. That’s how my food tastes now.”
Gus gave her a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry.”
She batted the pain down and forced a calm grin onto her face. “I figured that if I jump-start my creative brain, then maybe my cooking will get better.”
His eyes glowed with a quiet mischief. “When’s the last time you played a game?” he asked.
“Hmm.” Sirena pondered his question. “I think I completed a crossword puzzle in July.”
“Ah. There it is. Whenever I get stuck trying to figure out an issue with work, I stop working and go play a game. Your creative brain is looking to play, and you’ve been hustling and grinding instead.”
Gus jabbed his spoon in the air to punctuate his point.
I don’t get paid to play. Sirena held back her knee-jerk response and stared at Gus.
He was helping her, and she didn’t have to snap at him just because he was right. When Sirena let herself play around with an old dish in the kitchen, she often came up with new and exciting meals. He was right. Somewhere over the last year she forgot that the best magic came from a heart that embraced fun and joy.
Gus watched her with a sly smirk. “You know I’m right.”
“You might have a point,” she admitted begrudgingly. “I’m busy, Gus.”
He held up his spoon. “An hour of play will let your brain rest and think of new ideas.”
It was time. If she was going to change her fate, then she needed to commit to her plan. Sirena couldn’t be hesitant or shy with her request. Ask him if he wants to play.
Having fun could be innocent, but playing around could be daring. A pleasant shudder heated her body, making her sweater feel itchy and tight. Her heart hammered against her ribs as her imagination went running wild. She could see Gus showing up at her doorstep, holding two tickets and a weekend bag. He’d whisk her away somewhere no one knew their names or their histories, somewhere they could watch the stars come out and bathe in the moonlight. They’d trade confessions and kisses in the dark and learn the contours of their bodies.
The question fell from her lips before she could stop it.
“So, will you play with me?”
Sirena held her breath waiting for him to respond. Please. Say it.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said in a rumbly voice. “Yes, I’ll play with you.” Why did he have to say it like that? Like he was licking the ice cream off her spoon—unhurriedly. Like he was kissing her while lowering her down onto a feather-soft bed. Sweet basil. Sirena gripped her spoon so hard, she was worried it would snap in her hand.
“What game are we playing?” she said, forcing herself to stay cool.
She hoped Gus said a paper-and-pen game like tic-tac-toe or MASH.
“Be impulsive,” he said. “Go with the flow, and when the time is right, the right game will come up tonight. You can’t always plan your fun.”
“Says you,” Sirena grumbled.
He gave her an interested look. “What have you been conjuring up in the kitchen?”
She drew a blank. Sirena gritted her teeth, unable to come up with a single new dish. Her skin grew clammy at that truth.
“Eh, does a peanut butter and jelly sandwich count as conjuring?”
She hadn’t been cooking anything big lately, feeling burned out on cooking.
His lips puckered in thoughtfulness. “Of course. Who doesn’t love a classic PB and J? I enjoy a late-night snack when the mood strikes. Besides, I’m terrible at cooking.”
“You’re just out of practice,” she said.
Gus made a face. “I don’t think I can handle the heat in the kitchen.”
“You can handle it. Cooking can be fun when you do it with a friend.”
“We’re friends now,” he said.
Sirena felt her face flush. “I mean, I’m working in your library and feeding your cat treats. You’ve made my holiday card list.”
“Are you offering to let me in your kitchen?” he asked with a rasp of interest.
She laughed, trying to mask the jolt of pleasure that went through her when he asked that simple question. Lately, she didn’t let anyone in; it was just better to take care of her space by herself. Lucy and Callie offered to cook, but Sirena politely declined their help. Nana had picked her to carry on her legacy and she wasn’t going to let her down. Rule nine: A kitchen witch is solely responsible for keeping their space and magic safe.
Letting Gus into her kitchen didn’t feel like a safe move; it felt thrilling and hot—like biting into a handful of ghost peppers.
“I’ll put you on the waiting list,” she teased.
Gus took another bite of ice cream.
“Tell me about your society work,” he said.
“I want to make sure the recipes are scanned and digitized. They’re too valuable to Freya Grove history to let them stay on a shelf. I found an interesting dish in the library.”
Gus dropped his spoon on the tray. “I agree. Show me what you found.”
Sirena picked up her phone and opened it to her picture gallery.
She leaned over the table and showed Gus the recipe page. “I was thinking about making it and seeing how it tasted.”
Gus scanned the recipe, running his tongue over his lips in thought. “Hmm. This dish sounds good. Save me a plate when you make it.”
Sirena hesitated when she heard something odd in his voice. What was that—longing? When was the last time he had a meal that left him feeling satisfied? That urge to feed him hijacked her brain. The words popped out of her mouth before she could take them back.
“I can cook it at your house.”
The historical society had a full, very lived-in kitchen. She’d eaten her afternoon snacks in there once, not wanting to risk spilling anything on the documents.
“I don’t know if our kitchen is up your standards. The sink is older than me,” he warned.
“Let’s try.” Where did this untested confidence come from? She decided to stop before she committed to cooking him a whole turkey. Sirena stuffed her mouth with another spoonful of caramel apple.
Gus merely smiled, and they ate their ice cream scoops in peace. An eager glint materialized in his eyes. Oh. He appeared too appealing when he had that glint in his eyes. Like a swashbuckler ready to woo his lady into a high-seas adventure or a starry-eyed night of romance in his private cabin. Sirena tried to rid her brain of that fantasy and failed. She could see him sauntering over to her bed wearing a loose jacket, baggy trousers, and a sash that would sit right on his solid body. How he would sweep her up into his arms and, with those skilled hands of his, rid her of her nightgown and leave her bare naked for his pleasure. She groaned and took another bite of caramel apple ice cream. She experienced two fantasies in one night. If she had a third one, she’d probably overheat like a car with the AC turned on high.
She fanned herself with her spoon. Do not fantasize about him—too much.
Gus shot her a concerned look. “Is everything okay?”
Sirena gave him a thumbs-up. She really needed to stop staying up late and watching old-school pirate films on the Telly app.
As she ate, the feeling of doubt grew in her brain, overpowering her confidence. Who was she to cook a nearly hundred-year-old recipe for a magician?! Gus had probably had meals made by world-class chefs from all over the world when he was performing. Yeah, he said all those nice things in the diner, but he hadn’t had her cooking recently. She couldn’t scramble eggs without making them taste rubbery. Sirena kept rethinking her offer as they emptied their ice cream bowls. She wanted to impress him, to see his eyes light up in wonder when he tasted her food. It’s not even your recipe. She thought about the Lighthouse interview and the wince of disgust on the manager’s face when she tasted Sirena’s meal. She’d hate to see that disgust on his face.
She frowned. How was she going to explain to him that she couldn’t cook for him? Gus must have seen the look on her face, because he spoke.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll reimburse you for anything you buy or cook for me—for the society. Save the receipts.”
“You already pay me too much.” Sirena bit the inside of her cheek. She could practically feel Callie at her side, hissing at her. Hush up and take the money.
Gus leaned over the table. “Like my grandpa said, when you know your worth, kid, make sure to add tax. I’m paying for your experience and knowledge.”
“I hope I’m worth it,” she said. The hourly salary was very generous and easily replaced the money she made with Empty Fridge. Sirena didn’t have to worry about having her deliveries stolen by hungry porch trolls or soggy paper bags costing her a high tip.
“I’m not paying you enough,” he responded. “You deserve double.”
Sirena laughed, stunned. “You always seem to have the right words. How do you do that?”
They paused and then said at the same time, “Magic.”
“Jinx,” Sirena said automatically. A flash of red sparks popped around Gus’s mouth. This was it—the perfect game at the right time. She and her sisters used to make a game of jinx last for days—or until Nana threatened to put crushed black pepper into their morning tea to get them to talk.
Gus squeaked, unable to get a word out of his lips.
Sirena waved her hand. “This is impulsive, right?!”
Gus grumbled in what sounded like agreement. Good. Ready to play. He rolled his hand, gesturing for her to set down the rules of this game of jinx.
“You can only speak when you buy me… uh… a root beer,” she said quickly.
He shrugged as if it was no big deal. Sirena snapped her fingers in defeat as she remembered where she was. Scoops and Sprinkles always had bottles of root beer and cola for an impromptu ice cream float. Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. Well, it was fun for the five seconds that the game lasted.
Gus went over to the drink fridge, glanced around the shelves, and turned back to her. He slashed his hand over his neck and frowned. Sirena got up and stood next to him and searched the drink case.
She held back a grin. “Oh no. It looks like they’re out. No talking until you buy me a root beer.”
Gus sighed, then folded his arms over his broad chest. He gave her a raised brow as if to say You must be having so much fun right now.
The game wasn’t over yet and the night was just beginning.
“I’m having a great time,” she said. And she actually meant it.
Gus never knew that he could make anyone so happy by not speaking. Grandpa once told Gus he was blessed with the gift of gab, so playing a game of jinx was challenging for him. He could’ve easily ended the game back at Sprinkles and Scoops when he spied a random root beer in the back of the fridge. He could’ve ended it by opening the Empty Fridge app and having an entire six-pack of root beer delivered to their table. But it became apparent to him that the longer he played this game with Sirena, the more she seemed to relax. Gus saw the glow of amusement light up her face, and he didn’t want to take it away. He snagged a peppermint from the bowl on the counter and popped it into his mouth after they cleaned up their table. They left the ice cream shop and strolled down Main Street, watching ghouls and people parade on the sidewalk. He breathed in the crisp scent of decaying leaves mixed with the heady sea air and natural magic. They walked by pumpkins glowing on porches and four-foot-high skeletons on front lawns. There was nothing like autumn in Freya Grove. The Grove was alive tonight.
Gus waited for Sirena outside Lee’s Bodega.
She exited the shop almost as quickly as she went in, holding up her hands. “This store doesn’t have a single can, either. Is everyone making root beer floats tonight?!”
Gus shrugged carelessly. It wasn’t a big deal. He crushed the peppermint in his mouth and let the pieces linger on his tongue.
“I didn’t mean to pick the one soda they don’t have in town,” she said. “I bet you probably want to go home.”
He swung his head in a no. How long had it been since he truly let himself toss out his schedule and go with the flow? His Friday nights usually consisted of him eating dinner alone in his study, answering emails, and completing the week’s paperwork. The combination of eating delicious ice cream and talking about playing with Sirena left him hyped up. The trickster within had been ready to whisk her away right then, but Gus kept himself in check. He had this burst of buzzy energy and he wanted to burn it off.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked.
Gus extended his hand to her. For tonight, he’d settle for taking her to his favorite place in the Grove. She took it and interlaced her fingers with his. Her hand fit in his neatly and his skin warmed. It was as if he held a small flame in his palm, and he savored her touch. They went down away from the stores, through the town square, and toward the boardwalk. She yanked his hand and halted when they walked by a curio storefront window. The display consisted of snow globes of different sizes mounted on a rising platform.
She focused on a medium-sized globe directly in front of her. “How lovely.”
Gus noticed the glass globe in question. The castle by the sea inside the globe was impressively crafted. The undisturbed glitter rested on its towers and shimmered under the store lights.
“Nana used to say I was her magpie. I liked collecting sparkly things when I was little.”
Sirena watched the snow globe carefully. It was as if she was committing the item to her memory. He noticed the price tag and filed it away for a future shopping trip. Society guests and members had nothing but praise for his new culinary consultant, who put out water and snacks in the afternoon. Gus wished to give her a tangible thank-you when her time came to close at the society. The budget allowed Sirena to work for a limited amount of time and then she would have to leave. Unhappiness thrummed through him at the thought of her walking out the front door and not returning.
She studied it for a few more seconds, then looked at Gus. “We can go now.”
He slowly eased her away from the storefront. Their footsteps echoed on the planks as they walked in tandem. It was dark enough that you couldn’t see the waves roll in, but you could hear the roll and crash of them on the beach. Seagulls wheeled overhead, and the wind filled the silence between them. They walked down until they reached the illuminated carousel.
The Freya Grove carousel, protected by glass walls, was held in an elaborate copper rotunda on the waterfront. It had three rows of different animal figures and creatures that children and adults could ride during open hours. Wonder, light and refreshing, like an evening rain coated his skin. No matter how many times he saw the carousel, he was always engrossed by this ride. They walked close enough to make out the prancing unicorns and bears suspended in motion. According to local lore, the designer was a gifted magician who created this amusement that took riders on a journey through a coastal fairyland. In his dreams he could hear the gleeful laughter and feel the joy this place brought so many riders.
Yearning wrung his heart out and left it dry. Could he ever make anything so beautiful?
He watched Sirena, standing rapt in the glow of the carousel. The wind gently kicked up the loose braids around her face. Her skin appeared to shimmer as if her full cheeks had been kissed with glitter. By the water and in the evening light, she looked ethereal, like a water sprite come to visit the land.
Gus had noticed Sirena with her rounded lush body and big smile around the Grove, leaving a job or headed to another. It never seemed to be the right time to ask Sirena out or to see if she was interested in him. He often saw her in Night Sky Bistro, giving out so-called baking mistakes to people who couldn’t afford a sandwich or were having a rough day.
Gus noticed that her attention had left the carousel. Instead, she stared at the fancy maritime restaurant that looked out over the ocean. The fancy place was called the Lighthouse and he thought that the food was a bit too fussy for his tastes. Her eyes went glassy, and the teasing light that was there faded. She paled as if she’d seen a terrifying phantom.
Gus took a step forward, but Sirena held a hand to keep him at bay. He halted.
She licked her lips and squared her shoulders. “Um, I have to be honest. I don’t know if I can cook for you. I mean, I can prep the ingredients, put everything together, and make it look good. I don’t know if it’ll… taste good.”
He wrinkled his brow. A growl of frustration left Sirena’s throat.
“I’m probably not making sense, but I’m going to try. Just listen, please.”
He nodded, genuinely concerned. She drew in a breath, as if she was trying to summon up courage to tell him an unpleasant truth. His stomach twisted a bit. Was she hiding from him? The words Are you okay? I can help lingered on his lips, but he remained true to the game.
Her words came out in a furious tumble.
“I can cook, but I can’t conjure. I used to have so much fun whenever I made anything, Gus. I mean, I used to smile when I made peanut butter and cinnamon toast for my sisters. I was happy because I was able to make them happy with my magic. I felt that exciting spark when I just touched the stove or read over a recipe, but now… I can’t easily feel it anymore. I have to work hard to find it. It’s hiding, or it’s gone. I was born to do this, to be a kitchen witch. I was chosen. Like my nana and her mother. I barely feel that magic, and that’s not… okay. I don’t know who I am without it, and I want the spark back.”
The fury transformed into misery as she stopped talking. Sirena wiped away the tears that rolled down her cheeks, but they kept coming. Her lips trembled, and she let out shuddering cries that racked her whole body. A mixture of empathy and protectiveness stirred within him. Gus watched her cry for an instant, then brought her into the safety of his arms. He held her close, supporting her against his chest. She could rant and rave if she needed to, but he’d take whatever she needed to let out. Her body shook even more, but he held on. Why couldn’t he make her hurt disappear as easily as he could make doves vanish into thin air? He wasn’t letting her go, even if the tide came in, swallowed them up, and pulled them out to sea. They stayed together for a long time, remaining in the glow of the carousel lights. Sirena stepped back from his arms. Her tears had subsided, but they still fell down her cheeks and underneath her chin. She looked up at him under the twinkle lights above.
“Who am I without that magic?” she said, and her voice broke.
Her question slipped inside his chest and struck his heart like a throwing knife. Gus had asked himself the same question when he walked away from his career and his family’s legacy act. Years later, he’d been able to answer it, but it took time to see himself outside of his last name and the demands that he be only Good-Time Gus. He had to find a new mirror, a new place to see who he could be away from his family’s gaze. The Grove, this mystic, wonderful town by the sea, showed him the person he once dreamed of being.
Someone who was steadfast and thoughtful.
He could be the mirror to show Sirena how wonderful she was. Even though she’d been coming to the historical society for barely a week, she had made herself invaluable. When she took a break from going through documents, Sirena went out and bought treats for visiting students who needed a quick bite. She made iced tea for the older adults who came in to find clues about their families and raptly listened to their stories. She entertained the toddlers with silly dances and wacky games while the parents got a chance to take a break. Gus waited in the lobby every afternoon to personally greet her, every fiber of him rejoicing at the sight of her on the porch. Cinder followed Sirena wherever she went and meowed after her whenever she left the society. He watched her give pieces of herself without any expectations that she’d get anything back.
No one would ever take her place.
Sirena deserved to have a tangible reminder that she was more than the magic she held. He reached into his shirt pocket and took out his notepad and pencil. Gus slowly wrote a note for Sirena, ripped it off the pad, and handed it to her. He dropped the pad back into his pocket.
She swallowed hard, lifted her chin, and met his gaze.
Sirena took the note and read it for a long moment. She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. The tears didn’t fall anymore but glistened in those lovely eyes. All that was on the paper were two words, but they were the best ones he knew that captured what he believed about Sirena.
You’re irreplaceable.
He took her face into his hands, studying her deliberately, as if she were a valuable artifact that had been placed in his path. People searched their entire lives for something as beautiful as the woman in his arms. They dug up the earth and combed entire oceans just to have something as precious as Sirena. His blood hammered wildly as he leaned down into her space.
He hesitated, waiting for her to invite him to close the space between them.
She watched him for a second, then gave him a single nod.
He softly brushed his lips over hers. She let out a soft moan and he deepened their kiss.
A hot ache grew in his throat. She tasted of tart apples and sweet cream, of fresh sugar and unspoken enchantments. Her kisses were kindling, generating heat, and sending a part of his soul on fire. He felt her hands moving underneath his jacket, and she pressed herself firmly against his body. It still wasn’t close enough. Gus allowed his hands to explore the softness of her cheeks and the delicate lines of her shoulders. He held back, wanting to comfort her but not take advantage of her tender heart. He kept kissing Sirena, greedily wanting to devour every inch of her until there was nothing left but embers. The time for words had passed.
Sparks, as small as fireflies, floated from their intertwined bodies and drifted into the carousel’s mechanics. Those sparks, as playful as air sprites, went into the lights and gears. The carousel whirred to life, and the sound of calliope music filled the air. Gus held Sirena as they watched the ride move and glide, powered by the magic they’d made together.