Hexed Flames

Chapter 1

ONE

SERENA

There are already three people waiting outside the store when I flip the sign to “OPEN.”

I smile to myself—and then to them—as I usher them inside. Not bad for a Monday morning. Not bad for a little shop that only opened a few months ago.

“Hey, Miss Serena,” Ivy greets me while adjusting the strap of the book bag slung over her shoulder. She’s a high school student who stops by a couple times a week to sniff the latest scents and revisit some of her favorites. “Do you still have any of those candles that help me focus when I study?”

“You’re in luck. I poured a fresh batch of rosemary and mint last week, so they’re set and ready to burn.” I tilt my head to the side. “Do you have another test already?”

She reaches for one of the candle jars, opens the lid, and takes a deep breath. Her eyelids flutter in contentment before she sighs.

“Two tests,” she says, taking another whiff. “And a paper due on Friday for AP English.”

“No rest for the wicked smart, I guess.”

I wince inwardly. Did I really say that out loud? I swear, I feel less cool every day I inch closer to forty. Maybe I should look up some of the lingo today’s kids are using so I can stay relevant.

Then again…

A memory of my dad saying “let’s get lit” in front of all my friends when he plugged in an inflatable pumpkin in our front yard pops into my head. I. Was. Mortified.

It was almost as embarrassing as when he kept wearing his Magnum PI short shorts to mow the lawn until they “shrank in the wash.”

Maybe I—and my vocabulary—should age gracefully.

Leaving Ivy, and my dreams of staying hip and now, I turn to another customer.

Pam was one of my mom’s closest friends when they were growing up. After Mom moved away, she looked after my grandma in our absence. Now that my sister and I are here in Gran’s old house running our new business, she’s carried on her mission with us.

“What can I help you find today?” I ask.

“Oh, I’m just looking.” Pam waves me off before immediately picking up another candle. “Although my daughter has that job interview Wednesday.”

“Ah.” I reach past her and pluck another candle from the shelf. “Then you want this one.”

“Confidence?” Pam turns the jar around to read the label.

“Bergamot for success and opportunity,” I recite out loud from memory. “Rosemary for a clear head, and cedar to keep her grounded when the nerves kick in.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And does it work?”

“If she lights it before the interview, walks in there knowing she belongs, and remembers to answer the questions to the best of her abilities? Absolutely.”

Pam laughs. “So the magic is her.”

“That’s usually how it works.” I return her smile. “The best magic is in all of us.”

I see signs of that every day. Especially here.

The town has embraced Spellbound with surprising enthusiasm. And, well, I couldn’t be happier. I love my little shop and Valerie’s bar. And I love the big dreams it’s letting us live.

Six months ago, people said I was crazy. My parents. My friends. My co-workers.

Once upon a time, I might have agreed with them. I mean, how many women in their late thirties quit a job with benefits and stock options to sell candles full time?

My grandma and sister were the only ones who didn’t laugh when I told them my idea.

Not only did Valerie give an enthusiastic “hell, yeah,” but she quit her job at a bar in Vegas so we could go into business together. The original plan was to find a place we could afford and split the space so we could each do our thing.

I’m not sure which of us was more shocked when Gran said she was giving us her old Victorian house so we could set up shop and home.

“Now, you girls know I’ve been spending more time at my condo in Arizona, because of these old bones,” she’d said. “You’d be doing me a favor taking care of that big old house.”

After that, it had all come together pretty quickly. We’re my candle shop by day. Then, with the pull of a few cords and some curtains, we transform into Val’s cocktail lounge.

It all feels so magical in a near-constant pinch-me sort of way.

Of course, there’s a lot of hard work behind the magic. But I’m up for it. I know we both are.

Candle shop by day. Cocktail bar by night. A place where the people in our new community can feel welcome and at home. A place where they can dream and bring those dreams to reality.

With a little help from the notes in my candles and the ingredients in Valerie’s recipes.

I’m about to turn to my third customer when the bell above the door rings again. I glance up in time to see the suncatcher dangling from the door capture a million little rays of rainbow light and send them shining all over the store.

I’d like to think it’s those rays of rainbow, and not the tall drink of water walking through the door, that has me feeling as spellbound as our shop’s name.

“Good morning,” I say, hoping my voice sounds at least slightly less dazzled than I feel. “Can I help you find something?”

“I’m just looking.”

“Of course. Let me know if you have any questions.”

He gives me a nod before turning toward the shelves. And he does, in fact, look. Closely.

He picks up one of the jars and turns it around in his hand, studying the label before popping off the lid and giving it a sniff.

Meanwhile, I study him as discreetly as possible.

His dark hair is trimmed short, and there’s already a hint of five o’clock shadow shadowing his jaw even though it’s barely nine in the morning.

The sleeve of his dark T-shirt hugs a muscular bicep, revealing the edge of a tattoo beneath it.

I can’t make out much, just a few dark lines disappearing under the fabric.

There’s also a small crest over his heart. A shield of some sort.

I’m still trying to figure out what it means when I remember I have another customer.

“Jessie.” I turn to the third woman who was waiting outside. “Sorry. What can I help you find?”

She leans across the counter conspiratorially. “I have a date.”

“Ooh. Tell me more.”

“With that search and rescue guy I told you about.”

“The hunky one?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, good for you.” I rub my hands together. “We clearly need to bring out the big guns.”

I lead her toward a display and pluck one of the candles from the shelf. “Try this.”

Jessie takes a sniff and grins. “Perfect.”

“We aim to please.” While she browses, my attention wanders back to the stranger.

He’s moved on to another shelf. And another candle.

Maybe he really is just looking, but most men who come into the shop alone are shopping for someone else. I wander over.

“Trying to find something for your wife?”

His gaze flicks to mine. “Don’t have one.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Don’t have one of those either.”

I mentally give myself an enthusiastic high-five. “Mom?”

He shakes his head.

“Yourself?”

“Maybe.”

Well. Better and better. I’d love to help this guy find what he needs. And I’m willing to be thorough.

I’m about to pepper him with enough questions to determine exactly what kind of candle a tall, dark, single stranger needs in his life when Ivy approaches the counter.

Duty calls.

I ring up her rosemary and mint candle, then slide it across the counter. “Remember the instructions.”

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. I come around the counter and rest my hands lightly on her shoulders. “Take a breath.”

Ivy dutifully inhales.

“When you light this tonight, I want you to think about what you need to accomplish in the moment. Not everything you need to do between now and Friday. Just what you’re doing right then.

Set your intention, take another deep breath, and remind yourself that you already know this stuff.

The candle isn’t going to write your paper or take your tests for you. ”

“Unfortunately.”

“But it can remind you to slow down, focus, and trust yourself.”

Her smile brightens.

“You’ve got this.”

She throws her arms around me for a quick squeeze. “Thanks, Miss Serena.”

“And don’t burn it while you’re sleeping.”

“I know.”

“Or leave it unattended.”

“I know.”

“Or—”

“I promise. I’ll follow the instructions.”

“Then go be wicked smart.”

She laughs as she heads for the door.

Pam is next.

I tuck her confidence candle into a bag and hand it over. “Tell your daughter to light it while she’s getting ready. She should think about three things she wants them to remember about her after she leaves the interview.”

Pam nods seriously.

“And tell her to say them out loud.”

“Anything else?”

“Shoulders back. Deep breaths. Maybe a little pep talk in the mirror. And she needs to read the burning instructions on the bottom of the jar.”

“You really know how to ruin a good spell.”

“Fire safety is very serious. And magical.”

A sound—like a snort—comes from somewhere behind her.

I glance toward the handsome stranger, but his attention appears to be focused on another label.

Finally, Jessie steps up with her candle. I take her hands across the counter.

“Okay. What do you want tonight?”

“To kiss a hot search and rescue guy?”

I laugh. “Besides that.”

She thinks about it. “To have fun.”

“There you go. Don’t waste time deciding whether he’s your future husband before appetizers arrive. Tonight, you’re going to feel beautiful, be completely yourself, and have fun getting to know someone new.”

“And if he hates me?”

“Who cares? More importantly, you need to decide whether or not you like him.”

Jessie snorts.

“And if it doesn’t work out, that doesn’t mean tonight was a failure. You’ll know a little more about what you want, what you don’t, and you’ll be one date closer to finding the one who’s right for you.”

“I like that.”

“Good. Now go be irresistible.”

She hugs me too before taking her bag and heading for the door. The bell jingles.

And suddenly, I’m alone with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Apparently Single.

He’s holding another candle. “What kind of wax do you use?”

The question catches me off guard.

“A pure soy wax.”

He nods toward the jar. “And the fragrance?”

“I create the scents myself from candle-safe fragrance oils. I buy from suppliers who provide the safety documentation, and I test every formula before I sell it.”

His eyes move to the candle again. “What about the jars?”

“Heat-resistant glass made for candles.”

“And the wicks?”

“Lead-free cotton.”

That earns me another thoughtful nod.

I cross my arms. “You ask a lot of questions for someone who’s just looking.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “What can I say? I’m curious.”

“So am I.”

“About?”

I step closer. “What you need from a candle.”

His eyebrows rise.

“Everyone who walks through that door wants something. Confidence. Focus. A little more courage. A little less stress.” I gesture toward the candle in his hand. “So what are you hoping for?”

For a moment, he just looks at me.

Then he sets the candle carefully back on the shelf. “Answers.”

My smile falters.

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a leather wallet. When he flips it open, I’m not looking at a credit card.

I’m looking at a badge.

His entire demeanor changes. “I’m Fire Chief Welles Hawthorne. And I’m trying to figure out why your candles keep starting fires in my town.”