Chapter Nine
Bzzzzzzzz.
My phone buzzed on the bedside table.
I looked at the time and groaned. I was still in bed, and it was far later in the morning than when I was used to sleeping till. I was an early riser, always. Apparently not today, though.
My phone buzzed again, and I picked it up to see two messages, one from Ryker and one from Jemma. Both have very different tones.
Ryker: I hope you have an amazing day
Jemma: Get out of bed. Go to the farmer’s market.
I groaned and flopped onto my side, rereading Jemma’s message. She was right; I should get out of the house. I’d been holed up writing for the past few weeks, literally not leaving for anything other than essentials. I’d come to terms with everything I’d ever need being right here.
My laptop, my books, and my phone, which connected me to Ryker.
We’d been talking every day, sometimes on the phone, sometimes through text, but we hadn’t taken it any further than that. With all of the talking we did, we hadn’t touched on the one thing I think we were both scared of. Where did we stand in terms of ever seeing each other again?
I think that was another reason I’d spent so much time at home, because if I didn’t leave, there wouldn’t be the thought of when I might possibly see Ryker. We could always arrange something, but what would that look like? How far would we be willing to travel?
“Fuck.”
I threw off my covers and made quick work throwing on some black biker shorts, a dark blue crop top, and a hat before grabbing my portable writing bag. Jemma wasn’t wrong in suggesting I get out of the house, but that didn’t mean I needed to stop writing.
My stomach growled, and I didn’t blame it. It was nearing noon, and I normally woke up hours ago. I’d stayed up till almost three in the morning working on a new chapter for my book.
In the past two weeks, I’d written close to sixty thousand words.
I wasn’t trying to rush the process, but there was something about this story that had me enthralled.
Inspiration came from the days I spent with Ryker, conversations we’d had since then, and even, in the odd turn of things, CovertRetriever.
I’d been spending some days watching his streams and writing. It’d become a habit now.
Today, though, I was going to take a step back and do more plotting than writing.
Really try to understand what I wanted from this book.
It was completely different from the book I’d submitted to my publisher last month, but it was better to ask for forgiveness in this situation rather than permission to change everything.
I double-checked I had what I needed and then headed down to the farmer’s market, loving the fall air that had graced us today. It had already started to chill down outside, but today, with no clouds, the sun shining, and a nice sixty degrees out, it was perfect.
In just a few minutes, I was surrounded by fellow patrons who were out this weekend. The farmer’s market was only open for a few more weekends, and everyone was getting the most out of it.
My first stop would be tea. I was in desperate need of some Irish breakfast extra sweet today. I made my way up to the regular booth I went to.
“Odette!” The owner, Jillian, remembered me instantly.
I’d always come to the market every weekend during the season, but this year was different.
I’d started to make excuses not to leave the house, that I didn’t need to go, that I could just go to a coffee shop and work.
But today felt nice to have just a moment to myself. “The usual?”
“Yes, please.” As soon as the response was out of my mouth, Jillian had placed my to-go cup on the counter.
“I miss seeing you around here.”
Guilt riddled me at her comment.
“I miss coming.” I sheepishly took the tea in hand and handed her a ten, but she pushed it back toward me.
“You know your money is no good here.” Jillian never liked me paying, but I always tried, and when she refused, I added it to her tip jar and took my leave quickly before the almost eighty-year-old woman yelled at me. Which is exactly what I did today.
“Thank you, Jillian!” I dashed away, but not before giving her one more shout. “I’ll see you next week!”
“I’d better!” Her shout was so enthusiastic that it made me feel like I actually might uphold the words as a promise to myself to come next weekend.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw another message from Jemma.
Jemma: Glad you got out.
We shared each other’s locations so she could see exactly where I was. I was about to put my phone away when another message came through.
Ryker: It’s actually nice outside today.
I realized I hadn’t messaged him back this morning after I’d gotten up. It was clear we’d both had the same idea to get out today.
Odette: It really is.
I sent an emoji of the sun and then put my phone away for now.
My eyes closed, and I pointed my face to the sky. I had stopped in the middle of the walkway, so I took a deep breath and basked in the warmth before making my way down the line of open tents. They were filled with pastries, honey, herbs, and an assortment of plants.
I loved coming to the farmer’s market. It was like a breath of fresh air seeing the local goods and seeing the town out supporting everyone.
People watching was my favorite pastime, as well.
Seeing older couples out having picnics in their park chairs they brought from home, or students from high school and local colleges coming to take their social media photos and videos.
It was a wide variety of people who came here on the weekends, and it made my heart full and left me room for wanting to write.
There was an open park bench that I snagged and whipped out my notebook, scratching down the first thought that came to mind for this new book.
Plotting and laying out the next steps for these characters.
They were not like any characters I’d written before.
They came so effortlessly when I wrote about them, almost like they were real people inside me, just waiting to tell their story.
When I’d plotted a few more chapters out, I turned to the back of my notebook and proceeded to write out poetry.
It was one of my favorite types of writing, and I only did it when I had inspiration.
My favorite way to write it was handwritten.
There was something about seeing the words you were writing about someone else come straight from your hand to the pen.
Words of flowy language graced the page, speaking of enchanted nights and men in masks.
Ryker wasn’t only filling my fictional characters; he was fueling my non-fiction writing as well. Every crevice of my inspiration was coming from a man that I’d spent no more than an hour with.
I closed my notebook, packing everything back up into my bag before getting up to go see a few other booths. I needed some new spices for my apothecary. While I’d been stationed at home for the last few weeks, I was cooking and baking constantly and needed some new supplies.
The spice vendor at the farmer’s market was always amazing.
Fresh herbs and spices that she put into small bags for me to take home.
I could buy as little or as much as I needed.
And the best part was I was able not only to buy for baking, but for my practice as well.
She always stocked me up on bay leaves like I was running out.
Which I was.
“Hello, beautiful,” Emmie came around, giving me a hug before making her way to the normal jars I purchase from. “Are we getting the usual today?”
“Yes, please.” I took a glance at some of the more seasonal spices that she had. “I’d also like to get a few extra sticks of cinnamon and double the cloves.”
Her head whipped around at my request, eyes squinting at me. She practiced witchcraft just as I did. She could immediately sense that I needed more than just cooking supplies today.
“And what do you need to be setting up so much protection for?” Her eyebrow raised at me, and she stopped pouring the Himalayan salt into my bag for me.
“Nothing,” I lied, knowing that Emmie could read me all too well. I didn’t know how to tell her I needed to protect my heart because it was seemingly running away from me, and I needed to get it back and under control.
“Ah,” she clicked her tongue and continued. “A boy.”
“I wouldn’t say a boy.” Turning away, I walked to the other side of her tent, looking at a few of the plants she had hanging. I could never keep plants to save my life—I killed air plants that were supposed to be death-proof.
“Then a man.” Her voice wasn’t judging, but it had an edge to it, and I knew she was about to give me an earful. “I suggest coriander, then.”
I looked over at her with a confused look.
“Emmie, I’m trying to protect my heart, not manifest him by my side.” Cinnamon working with cloves was a great combination to protect one’s heart and self, but coriander with cinnamon? That was a spell for manifesting love itself.
“Shush,” she shooed me away as she went for the coriander, putting a good helping into a bag for me. “You’ve been single too long, honey. If there is a man you’re finally so worried about that you’re seeking magical help, then I’d say give it a go.”
I continued to watch her put all the herbs and spices in bags and pouches before pulling them all together for me.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” She turned her tablet screen to me to see how much all the items were before I handed her cash to pay. “A broken heart?”
I grabbed my bag, not waiting for change, and turned to walk away.
“That’s exactly what could happen.”
I said to her with my back turned and left the tent. I stood outside of it for just a second with my eyes closed again and took a deep breath before turning to continue my journey through the sea of tents, before slamming into a body that was heading in the opposite direction.
My tea, which I still had in one hand, smashed between us, seeping onto my clothes and theirs. Their hands wrapped around my thick biceps, steadying not just me, but them too, from toppling over.
“I’m so sorry.” I was trying to wipe at their shirt, thinking somehow the tea would magically disappear. “I was not paying attention, and I’m such a klutz.”
“It’s okay.”
My head shot up at the words spoken. A voice I’d heard almost every day for the past few weeks, a voice that filled my head with inspiration and the reason I needed to leave the house today.
But here he was.
Ryker was standing in front of me with his hands still on me, holding me up quite close to him. We stared at each other, not saying a word. Our eyes were searching each other’s.
I had no idea how much time had passed before Ryker let me go, but he didn’t step away. He lifted a hand to my face and pushed a piece of hair behind my ear before brushing across my cheek. My eyes involuntarily closed before snapping back open when I caught myself.
“Hi,” I finally said.
“Hi,” he whispered back, like it was only us two here.
“Well, look at you two lovebirds.” Emmie had poked her head out of her tent, and I looked back at her and then at Ryker.
Fucking coriander.