Chapter 3
THREE
SERENA
There are no words for the shock and—dare I say—pure panic on Welles’s face.
Satisfying. Vindicating. Down-right hilarious are a few that come to mind. But none of them truly does justice for the full-grown man who looks like he’s afraid Valerie or I might hex him.
Superstitious weirdo. If I was a witch, I certainly wouldn’t waste my powers on hexing a pesky but way-too-handsome fire chief. I’d use them for good.
Like making sure Gran’s pillow is always cold. Or giving my cheating college boyfriend a receding hairline. Or, of course, world peace.
Still, it’s pretty fun to watch him squirm.
“Chief Hawthorne,” I say again sweetly. “What a surprise.”
“I was just—”
“Calling us woo-woo?”
His jaw tightens.
Beside me, Valerie slowly crosses her arms. Oh, dear. I suppose I should introduce them.
“Welles, this is my sister, Valerie.”
Valerie stares at him.
Welles stares back.
Neither says anything.
I look between them. It’s like watching two black cats meet in an alley.
“Val,” I continue, “this is Fire Chief Welles Hawthorne. He stopped by the shop earlier this week.”
“I remember.”
Welles looks at me. “You told her about me?”
“Of course I told her about you. We’re business partners.”
Not to mention best friends and sisters who tell each other everything.
Valerie’s eyes narrow. “She mentioned you think our candles are burning down the town.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You literally told me you were trying to figure out why my candles keep starting fires in your town,” I point out.
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“Sounds pretty similar from where I was standing.”
Valerie makes a quiet humming sound in agreement.
Welles glances at her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I’m enjoying this way more than I should.
“I have to go,” Valerie says.
“You do?” I ask.
“Yes. Unlike some people, I have a bar to open.”
She gives Welles one last assessing look. “Nice meeting you, Chief.”
“You too.”
“No, it wasn’t.” With that, she walks away.
I laugh.
Welles watches her go. “She’s friendly.”
“She likes you.”
“I’d hate to see what she does to someone she doesn’t like.”
“Oh, you’d know.”
His mouth twitches. And there it is again. That almost-smile.
I wonder what it would be like to see the real thing.
Which is annoying, because he’s still a pain in my ass. A very attractive pain in my ass.
The festival stays busy for the next couple of hours. Welles wanders off to do whatever official fire-chief things one does at a fall festival, and I sell candles.
Lots of candles.
By midafternoon, I’ve barely sat down. My water bottle is empty, breakfast is a distant memory, and I’m trying to decide whether the granola bar at the bottom of my bag is worth abandoning the booth long enough to find it.
My stomach makes the decision for me. Loudly.
“Was that you?”
I jump. Welles is standing on the other side of my table.
“Maybe.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“There’s a large, angry squirrel under the table. It could have been him.”
“Whatever it is, it sounds hungry.”
“He’s fine.”
“So are you, apparently.”
“I’m working.”
“So am I.”
He disappears before I can ask what that means. Whatever. I turn to help another customer.
Ten minutes later, a brown paper bag lands on the table in front of me. I look up. Welles sets down a bottle of water beside it.
I stare at both suspiciously. “What’s this?”
“Food.”
“I gathered that. But what is it doing here?”
“You should try eating some.”
I peer inside.
There’s a sandwich wrapped in paper. And a maple apple cider donut. Not just any maple apple cider donut. One from the bakery stand across the square that sold out before I got one earlier today.
I look up at him. “You got me a donut?”
“And a sandwich.”
“The donut is more important.”
“Obviously.” Something warm unfurls in my chest. Damn him. I was just getting to the point that I could maybe hate him. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
Which somehow makes it worse.
I take a bite of the donut. My eyes flutter closed. “Oh my God.”
I open them to find him watching me. Not the donut. Me.
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth. Heat curls low in my belly.
“Want a bite?”
His eyes come back to mine. “No.”
“Your loss.” I take another, considerably less seductive bite and force myself to concentrate on chewing instead of wondering what that five o’clock shadow would feel like against my thighs.
Good Lord. I must be losing my mind. I really do need food. Clearly my blood sugar is affecting my judgment.
“Thank you,” I say after swallowing. “Seriously.”
“You’re welcome.”
I study him. “I’ve decided: You might not be a total pain in the ass.”
“High praise.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
His mouth finally curves into a real smile.
Oh. My heart hitches. That’s— No. No, absolutely not. I’m not going there with my thoughts.
I turn toward the candles.
“Here.” I grab one of my favorites and hold it out.
“What?”
“Your reward.”
“I don’t need a candle.”
“You bought me the best donut in town. You deserve a candle.” When he still hesitates, I hold it in front of his face. “Come on. Humor me. Consider it… research.”
He takes the jar. His fingers brush mine. It’s barely anything. Still, every nerve ending in my hand seems to wake up.
“Smell it.”
He removes the lid and brings the candle toward his nose. His eyebrows lift. “That’s good.”
“I know.”
“What is it?”
“I call it Hex Appeal.”
“Hex Appeal,” he repeats. “What’s in it?”
“Absinthe, dark cherry wood, amber, black honey, vanilla, and clove. Basically all the best things about a cool October night mixed together in a jar.”
He lifts candle again for another smell.
I smile. “You like it.”
“It’s okay.”
“You smelled it twice.”
“That proves nothing.”
“It proves everything.” I take the candle back, our fingers brushing again.
This time, I’m ready for it. It doesn’t help. I wrap it in a bag and force him to take it. He grumbles, but goes back to his rounds, a Spellbound bag clutched in his firm hands.
By the time the festival starts winding down, I’m exhausted. I pack the remaining candles into boxes and carry the first toward my car.
“Give me that.” Welles takes it from my arms.
“I can carry a box.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you take it?”
“Because I can carry two.” He stacks another on top.
I hate how endearing that is. I hate even more how good he looks doing it.
His T-shirt stretches across his shoulders as he lifts the boxes. The sleeve pulls tighter around his bicep, exposing more of the tattoo I noticed at the shop.
I follow him to my car. Obviously. It’s where I was headed with or without him. A few trips later, we’re down to the last box. He slides it into the back of my car, and I reach past him to rearrange one that shifted.
We move at the same time. Suddenly, I’m trapped between Welles and the open car door.
Not trapped. That sounds bad. Situated. Very, very closely situated.
His arm is braced beside me. My hand is against his chest. I can feel the heat of him through his shirt.
Neither of us moves. His gaze drops to my mouth.
Oh.
My lips part.
He leans—
“Miss Serena!”
We jump apart. I turn. Ivy comes running toward us. Of course she does.
“Hey!”
She stops in front of me and immediately launches into a breathless recap of her week.
She did well on both tests. Better than she expected on one.
Her English paper is done, and she thinks it might actually be good, although she changed the conclusion at the last minute and now she’s second-guessing it.
I grin. “Did you light your candle?”
“Every night.”
“And?”
“I focused.”
“That was the idea.”
“It worked.”
“You worked,” I remind her.
Her smile gets bigger. After she runs off to find her friends, I turn back to Welles. He’s watching me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
There’s that word again. I close the back of my car.
“About your investigation…”
His expression changes. Ah. Back to business.
“Would you still like to investigate my shop and workroom so you can find the source of all the fires I’ve been setting around town?”
He grimaces. “I don’t think you’re starting fires. I just want to make sure there isn’t anything in your candles that might be causing them.”
“Right. Something beyond the fact that they’re an open flame, and people aren’t always smart about reading the warning label on the bottom.”
“If you can give me a few minutes to look around, I’ll be quick.” His jaw clenches. “You’re not in any trouble.”
“That’s a shame.” My lips twitch. “I like a little trouble.”
His eyes darken. Oh. I like that. A lot.
“Are you free tonight?”
He nods.
“Good. Stop by Spellbound, say, around seven?”
“I can be there at seven.”
I open my car door, but before I climb inside, I glance back at him.
“And Welles?”
“Yeah?”
“You might want to bring an iron horseshoe or some other anti-witch tool.” I smile sweetly. “Just to be safe.”