Chapter 4
FOUR
WELLES
When I enter Spellbound a few hours later, I do a double take.
“What the…”
For a second—or maybe even a handful of them—I wonder if I’ve gotten lost and walked inside the wrong shop.
The place looks night and day from what it did the last time I was here. And not just because it’s now night instead of day.
The bright candle shop is gone.
Or hidden, anyway.
Dark velvet curtains cover the shelves that were filled with candles this morning. The pale cupboards behind the counter are open now, revealing rows of liquor bottles and glassware. The chairs and tables have been rearranged into intimate little groups, and tall velvet stools line the counter.
Even the lighting has changed.
Small pools of warm light glow throughout the rooms, reflecting off gold accents and glassware. Candles flicker on the tables.
Of course they do.
I automatically check the closest one. Contained vessel. Stable surface. Nothing flammable nearby.
“You're doing it again.”
I look up. Serena is leaning against the counter.
Her red curls fall loose over her shoulders, and she's changed since I saw her at the festival. Dark jeans. A top that shows enough cleavage to make me forget what the hell she just said.
“Doing what?”
“Inspecting my candles.”
“I wasn't inspecting.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“Fine. I was inspecting it.”
“And?”
“Acceptable.”
“Be still my heart.”She presses a hand to her chest. “Careful with all the compliments. I might get an ego.
I look around again.”
“This is really the same place?”
“That’s the idea.”
“It's completely different.”
She beams. And damn if I don't like knowing I put that look on her face.
“We've gotten pretty good at the transformation.”
The dark-haired sister appears behind the bar. Valerie. She's apparently gotten over our introduction this afternoon.
Or not.
It’s hard to tell.
Serena gestures toward an empty stool. “Sit down. Let us buy you a drink.”
For a second, I consider saying no.
I came here to look at the shop and workroom. That's it.
This isn't social. It sure as hell isn't a date. Then Serena smiles at me.
“What the hell.” I sink onto one of the velvet bar stools. “I'm technically off the clock. I'll have a…”
I look behind Valerie at the bottles. “I guess I'll have a beer.”
“No.”
I stare at her. “What do you mean, no?”
“No,” she repeats. “This is your first time sitting at my bar. Someone drinks my drinks. I'm not serving you something you can drink in whatever basement you crawled out of.”
I blink.
Serena snorts.
I look between them. “Are you both like this?”
“Yes,” they answer together.
“Okay, okay.” I hold up my hands. “I'll have something else.”
“You're damn right you will.”
Valerie turns to her sister.
“Your usual?”
“Please.”
Serena flashes her a smile.
Valerie turns away.
I release a low whistle.
“Is she always like that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Sometimes she's really mean.”
I stare at her. Serena lasts about two seconds before bursting into laughter.
“You enjoy fucking with me, don't you?”
“Immensely.”
“I noticed.”
Her laughter settles into a grin. I shouldn't like it. I do. There’s no point denying it.
She slides onto the stool beside mine and turns toward me.
“So, Chief Hawthorne.”
“So, Candle Witch.”
“Candle Witch?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “Is that was the best you could do?”
“I'll work on it.”
“I don’t know. I kind of like it.” She's still smiling. “Just so long as you don’t call me the Candle Bitch.”
I look down at the bar. I suppose I might as well tell her. “By the way, you're cleared.”
She blinks. “I'm what?”
“Your candles. Based on what I've seen so far, I don't have any reason to think there's a manufacturing defect causing the fires.”
Her expression changes. “Really?”
“Really.”
Her shoulders visibly relax. I hadn't realized how much she'd been worrying about it. Something about that makes me feel like an asshole.
“I still want to see the workroom since I'm here,” I add. “But I've talked to the people involved in the fires. Everything points to improper use.”
“I told you.”
“You did.”
“Would you like to say that again?”
“No.”
“Maybe a little louder?”
My lips twitch. “Absolutely not.”
“I'm going to remember this moment forever.”
“I'm sure you are.”
She grins.
“I do think we need to do something about candle safety, though.”
Her smile fades. “I have warning labels.”
“I know. Good ones. But people don't always read them.”
“Clearly.”
“I've been thinking about offering a fire-safety class. Maybe here, if you're interested.”
She eyes me. “You want to teach people how to safely burn my candles?”
“And other candles.”
“But mostly mine.”
“You seem to have a steady customer base as far as candles go in this town.”
“We could do that.” Her smile slowly returns. “No, I like it. I'm just trying to decide how much fun I could have marketing a candle class taught by the hot fire chief.”
I turn my head. She looks completely innocent. Too innocent.
“Hot?” I ask.
“Did I say hot?”
“You did.”
“Huh.”
“Serena.”
Thankfully—or unfortunately—Valerie returns. She sets a drink in front of each of us.
Mine is burgundy, served in a gold-rimmed coupe glass. A dried orange slice rests against the edge, along with a speared dark cherry and a sprig of rosemary.
I pick up the rosemary.
“What’s this?”
“It’s not a lizard tail,” Valerie says.
“I didn't think it was.”
“You looked suspicious.”
“I'm learning to be cautious around both of you.”
“Smart man.”
Serena picks up her own drink. It’s something pink and sparkling with what looks like little bits of dried leaves on top of it.
“What am I drinking?” I ask.
“She calls it the Spirit Guide.”
I take a cautious sip. And almost spit it out in shock. It's good. Really good.
Warm and rich, a little sweet, with enough bite that I know Valerie didn't go easy on the liquor.
“Okay.”
Valerie looks at me.“Okay what?”
“I get it.”
“Of course you do.”
She reaches beneath the bar and pulls out a deck of cards.
Before I can ask why the hell there are cards behind a cocktail bar, she deals one facedown in front of Serena.
Then one in front of me.
I stare at mine.
“What is this?”
“Let me know when you're ready for your reading.”
“My what?”
But Valerie is already moving toward another customer.I look at Serena.
She shrugs.“Don't worry. She hasn't turned anyone into a toad yet.”
“Yet?”
Her eyes sparkle.
“Oh!” She straightens. “That reminds me. I have something for you.”
“For me?”
She reaches into the pocket of her jeans and pulls out a small velvet bag.
“I found this in my production studio while I was unpacking after the market. And I thought of you.”
That shouldn't do anything to me.
It does.
She thought of me.
Serena gestures toward my hand.
“Give me your palm.”
I hold it out.
She unties the drawstring and tips the bag.
A small stone falls into my hand.
I frown.
“What is it?”
“That,” she says proudly, “is fire agate.”
I look at the stone.
Then her.
“It’s a rock.”
“But it’s so much more than that.”
She takes my hand.
Apparently we're just going to ignore the fact that every time she touches me, my entire body notices.
She moves my palm from side to side beneath the light.
Colors flash inside the stone. Red. Gold. Orange. Even a little green.
It's like someone trapped a tiny fire inside it.
“Fire agate is a gemstone,” she says. “They're pretty rare. You can only find them in the American Southwest and Mexico.”
“Sounds like they're a long way from home.”
She gives a short laugh.
“Apparently they're formed from volcanoes. Or maybe when water from volcanoes filled up the gaps between rocks millions of years ago.” She lifts one shoulder. “I don't know all of the science behind it, but I do know it involves volcanoes.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
She takes my hand again and traces the stone with the tip of her finger.
My attention stops being on the agate.
“They're a popular crystal for firefighters.”
“I get it. Because they're made from fire. Well, volcanoes. But lava is a lot like fire.”
“That’s true.” She gives me a sweet half smile. “But mostly it's supposed to power up your bravery and protect you while you fight fires.”
Oh.
I look down at the stone. I'm not sure what to say.
It's a rock. I know it's a rock.
Whatever Serena believes about crystals or intentions or magic, I don't believe carrying this thing in my pocket is going to protect me inside a burning building.
But that's not really the point, is it?
She saw something meant to protect firefighters.
And she thought of me.
A lump forms in my throat.
I swallow it down.
“You want to protect me from fire?”
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” Her smile turns mischievous. “Just because you think my sister and I are—what did you say?—a little woo-woo for your taste? It doesn’t mean I want you to get hurt.”
I cringe. “I didn't mean it like—”
“Yes, you did. And that's okay. We're unapologetically woo-woo.”
She smiles. And, hell.
The laughter in those green eyes catches the light like one of the crystals hanging in her shop.
It hits me like a punch to the gut. And somewhere considerably more dangerous. My heart.
I close my fingers around the fire agate. “Thank you.”
Her expression softens. “You're welcome.”
For a second, neither of us says anything. The noise of the bar seems to fade around us.
I should look away. I don't.
“Look, I think we got off to a wrong start.”
“Why would you say that?” She tilts her head mischievously. “Is it because you accused my sister and me of setting the town on fire with my candles?”
I wince. “I deserved that.”
“Maybe.”
She reaches for her drink.
“But I'm also a believer in second chances.” Her gaze meets mine over the rim of the glass. “And you deserve one of those, too.”