Chapter 11
BLAIRE
Iwake up in my four-poster bed with sunlight pushing through the balcony doors. Last night is the first thing that comes to mind before I open my eyes.
It’s been years since I’ve been with anyone—years since I’ve given anyone a chance because it’s easier.
My mind drifts to Jamie and how we made a pact.
My eyes pop open.
“Fuck,” I whisper, climbing out of bed. I glance at the calendar on the wall. “On the autumn equinox.”
We made rules with our mouths pressed against each other. I swallow hard, almost pissed at myself for not being more careful. Any agreements made on the equinox are binding.
Flora always kept to herself and wouldn’t sign so much as a delivery slip on that day. I used to think she was being dramatic. She swore people made too many careless actions on that day, so she’d always close the shop to set her own intentions.
I pace back and forth in front of my bed, knowing I made promises to Jameson Cross on one of the most significant days of the season.
The universe knew exactly what it was doing.
After what happened, my body should be wrecked.
Instead, there’s a hum and excitement under my skin.
A mixture of dread and giddiness lives inside me, but only one of them is allowed to stay.
I get ready for work, and then I go downstairs to the kitchen.
Before I make it through the threshold, I smell coffee and burned toast. Josie sits at the island with Charlie on her lap, reading the book I gave her.
Winter is leaning against the counter, typing on her phone.
They both turn to me and smile when I walk in.
Winter pours me a cup of coffee and hands it to me without me asking.
“She lives,” Winter says. “How was the party?”
“Great,” I say, taking a sip so they can’t read my face. The coffee tastes like utter shit, but I still swallow it down.
Josie closes the book. “Why do you look so guilty?”
“Me? Guilty. Pfft,” I say. “I think it’s this coffee.”
“If it is, I blame the grounds,” Winter says, pulling a canister from the cabinet.
“Wait, give me that,” I tell her, moving close. I read the label, and my eyes widen. “This is infused.”
“With what?” Winter readjusts her ponytail. She looks like she’s getting ready to go for a run.
“It’s special coffee.” I point at the label. “Infused.”
“Shit, I knew I felt different,” Josie says, pointing to Winter. “You got me high! It’s not even eight!”
“I didn’t know!” They both burst into laughter. “Your aunt was spicy, Blaire.”
“She really was, but it’s too early for all that.” I immediately pour the cup she gave me down the drain. “We really need to go grocery shopping this week.”
“And maybe go through the cabinets and pantry?” Josie suggests.
“Great idea.”
“Anything else happen at the party?” Winter asks.
“Hmm. A man in a Zorro mask cornered me and wanted to talk about crypto.”
Josie snorts. “Please tell me you hexed him.”
“Not this time, but I should’ve. Crypto bros are the worst. He probably drove a Cybertruck.”
“Ew,” we say in unison.
Winter stares at me. She reads people like I read grounds, and right now, I’m a cup she can’t tip toward the candlelight.
“You seem different today.”
“I don’t feel different.” I shrug, pretending like I’m fine. It’s a bald-faced lie.
Josie snuggles Charlie, and then he jumps down and moves to his food bowl. He turns to me and lets out a meow.
“Aw, are you hungry?”
“I already fed him,” Josie explains. “He’s playing you.”
“Maybe I should give him just a little? Could be the path to his heart.”
I pour some kibble into his bowl. He smells it, then walks away.
“Snubbed,” Winter mutters.
“Okay, well, I think I need real coffee that’s not going to fuck me up until lunchtime,” I say. “Meet you at the shop at ten?”
They both nod, and I find my escape.
Roasted Bean at eight thirty is full of regulars.
Doris Jean sits at her table by the front window like she owns it, surrounded by the usual suspects.
The Birds, Flora used to call them, because they’d be perched at that window every morning.
Nothing moves on Main Street without them seeing it.
As soon as I enter, Doris Jean pops her head up and waves at me.
Considering I was one of the best baristas in Cozy Creek, I should buy an espresso machine and make lattes at home. I make a mental note.
My eyes scan over the list of seasonal drinks. Pumpkin marshmallow and toasted chestnut latte, caramel mocha, salted caramel apple cider, cranberry orange steamer, and the list goes on and on. I’m actually impressed by the seasonal menu.
After ten minutes of waiting, I order a cinnamon maple macchiato, hoping it tastes okay.
As I step to the edge of the counter, the energy in the room changes.
A prickle races up my spine, and I turn to see him stepping inside the shop.
Our eyes meet, and I see a ghost of a smile play on his perfect lips.
He’s wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap, looking overly casual for who he is.
I focus back on the counter, hoping my coffee comes out before Doris Jean sniffs us out. My aunt and all her friends were nosy Nancys, always in the town’s business and never afraid of playing matchmaker.
He orders and moves to the waiting area where I am, but not too close. It’s the exact distance two strangers would stand from one another.
“Morning,” he says with a little dip of his chin.
“Good morning.”
Our eyes meet, and it causes my heart to flutter. I glance away.
“Blaire,” the barista says, sliding my coffee toward me.
I smile and offer a thank-you.
“Black coffee for Jamie,” the other barista calls out, setting the drink on the counter next to mine.
Of course, he ordered the most boring drink in the world. He steps up for it at the same time, and we do the polite shuffle of two strangers trying to move around one another.
He smirks and offers his hand out. “After you.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, feeling my cheeks heat.
He’s behind me. “Were you judging my order?”
I glance at him over my shoulder. “Actually, yes.”
“Yoo-hoo! Blaire, honey!” Doris Jean waves me over before he can say anything else.
The entire table of women swings their heads my way. There’s no way I can escape the coffee shop without talking to them, so I walk over with my macchiato in hand.
“Good morning, ladies,” I say with a smile. “Up to the usual?”
“We were just talking about you,” Doris Jean says, which is never a sentence I enjoy. Then her eyes slide right past me. “Oh! Jamie! Come here a second, sweetheart.”
The smile I was wearing slightly fades. Doris Jean knows his name. I hope he keeps walking. Any man with an inkling of self-preservation would. Instead, he strolls over with his boring black coffee like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
“I’ve been wanting to introduce you two. I met this fine young man at the grocery store the other day,” Doris Jean says, glancing at him with way too much enthusiasm. “The first person I thought of was you, Blaire.”
I nearly choke on the sip of coffee I’m drinking. “Oh, Doris Jean. Please.”
She gives me a wink. “Jamie, this is Blaire, one of the finest witches in the Southwest. Blaire, this is Jamie. He does charity work for children and lives in New York. You two should get to know one another. Have dinner. He’s in town until November.”
Jamie politely grins. “Hi, Blaire. It’s very nice to meet you.”
Again. I want to say it so badly, but I keep it to myself. This is the third time we’ve officially met. It’s almost a gag now.
“It’s nice to meet you as well.” I look between them all. “I appreciate the introduction. I really need to get to work.”
“I’ve heard Blaire is great at love spells,” Sharon singsongs, picking up her coffee with a smile.
Doris Jean takes a slow sip of her tea. “Mmm. I’m just sensing something between you two.”
“Please don’t do this,” I say through gritted teeth.
Bitsy laughs. “Oh, sweetie. You know we have to keep your aunt’s memory alive. If Flora were here, she’d have already invited him over to the house and made sure you were there.”
Jamie laughs.
“Have a great day, all,” I say, turning on my heel, shaking my head.
They’re giggling at something Jamie said when I walk off. The Birds have him now. God help him for appeasing the town gossips and matchmakers.
I walk past the window, and his eyes don’t leave me. When we’re alone again, I’m going to kill him. It won’t even be with magic. I’ll use my bare hands.
I’m not even half a block down the sidewalk when Roasted Bean’s bell rings behind me.
“Ma’am! Excuse me.”
Jamie catches up in a few long strides, holding out a dollar bill, wearing the same polite smile he wore at the counter. “You dropped this.”
I did not. I don’t carry cash on me ever. Everything on my body is zipped, buttoned, or currently holding a macchiato. Behind him, through the front window, Doris Jean’s entire table is watching this exchange like it’s dinner theater.
“Thank you,” I say and take the money like it’s mine.
“Have a good day, Blaire.” He crosses the street toward his car without looking back.
I stand there for a beat longer than I should.
I unfold the dollar and see that he wrote his number on it, with the words call me next to it.
When I walk into Charmed Cauldron, laughter falls out of me. He’s wild.
I fold it back up and tuck it into my apron.
Josie and Winter show up on time, still bickering about the magic coffee they drank this morning. Josie sells more crystal jewelry before noon than we moved all last week. I might suggest she drink it every day. The thought makes me giggle.
I do two full readings. One is for a tourist who cries about her ex and tips better than anyone.
The other is for a local woman named Peggy.
She has had a standing appointment with my aunt every season for the past twenty years.
After that, I’m hired to cast a few love spells and ward their names with protection spells.
Between customers, Winter reads the book I gave her and takes notes. I believe she’s curious about the practice, but that’s as far as it goes.
At closing time, I wipe down the reading table, thinking about my aunt and what she would say about Jamie. Honestly, she’d be the ringleader of the matchmaking and encourage it more than any of them.
I go home, and the night passes by quickly. Dinner comes and goes.
By ten o’clock, the three of us go upstairs.
By eleven, their doors are closed, and the hallway is dark.
The dollar is in the pocket of the jeans I was wearing today. I grab them from my hamper and pull it out, thinking about his eyes following me. I know down to my bones that I want him. The mutual attraction is undeniable.
I add him into my phone as Jamie, and then I type a message.
Blaire
Um, hi. Found this number next to George Washington’s head.
I catch my reflection in the glass of the balcony doors, and I almost don’t recognize myself.
The reply comes back in under a minute.
Jamie
Best dollar I’ve ever given away.
Blaire
Want to come over?
Jamie
I’ll never say no.
Blaire
Back door. Midnight. Park two streets away and don’t be early.
Jamie
Understood. Should I bring anything?
Blaire
You. Just you.
Jamie
Can do.
I toss the phone onto the quilt and jump in the shower. I slide on my black silk robe and nothing else. Charlie sits in my window with his tail hanging, but he’s supervising.
“Don’t start,” I say.
He also doesn’t run away, which means he’s interested in what I’m doing.
At 11:58 p.m., I sneak downstairs and look through the window over the sink. I can make out a tall figure coming up the back street sidewalk. When he’s close, I open the door.
Cold air pours in around him, but I don’t give a damn.
Not a word is exchanged. His lips crash against mine as he steps forward. I get lost in his kiss, almost moaning.
When we push apart, I place my finger over my mouth, then lead him upstairs by the hand. A few of them squeak, and I stop walking, listening for noise.
When we’re in my room, I press him against the door to kiss him.
“What’s the rush?” he whispers, lifting my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.
“I don’t have all night,” I admit, pushing my robe off my shoulders, allowing it to pool at my feet.
His eyes slide down my body and back up again. Then I’m nearly ripping his clothes off of him. First goes his jacket and the shirt under it.
My mouth falls open when I see tattoos across his chest and back.
I slide my mouth down his throat and press kisses across his chest, memorizing his athlete’s body that lives under those nice clothes.
He is built from a lifetime on the ice, and every inch of him freezes under my touch.
When I drag my nails down his stomach, a low growl releases from his throat.
It only encourages me to keep going. He barely says a word.
I loosen his belt and unbutton his jeans as he walks me backward toward my bed. I barely come up for air, lost in his mouth, his touch, him.
When the back of my knees hit the mattress, I pull him down with me, wanting all of him that he’s willing to give me until he leaves. That might be the most dangerous thing about this fling.
My patience runs out as he’s braced over me. His jeans are still on, and his cock is rock hard, settled between my legs.
“Going to fuck me or make me wait until the sun rises?” I ask.
He kisses me, then pulls away, sliding a foil packet from the pocket of his jeans. I gulp when he pushes his jeans and boxers down and sheathes that sword.
“Scared?” He moves over me, his eyes meeting mine.
“Ready,” I say, pressing my mouth against his and digging my heels into his muscular ass. “Be careful with me. It’s been so long; I might be a virgin again.”
He chuckles against my neck as he pushes inside me slowly. We hold the same breath, and everything disappears around us. The entire universe shifts on its axis.
Jamie waits, allowing me to adjust, then starts to move out, then back in.
He fills me so full that I see stars.
It’s not supposed to be like this. I already know that much is true.