Chapter 6
SIX
WELLES
I look down at the collection of supplies Serena has spread across the stainless steel table.
“I think you’re going to be disappointed,” I say.
“I doubt it.”
“I’m serious. There’s nothing magical about me.”
“Everyone has a little.”
“Not me.”
She gives me that smile.
I’m beginning to recognize it.
It means Serena has decided she knows something I don’t, and there’s absolutely no point arguing with her.
“Okay, Chief Hawthorne.” She pushes an empty glass vessel toward me. “First things first. Pick your vessel.”
“They’re all the same.”
Her mouth falls open.
“What?”
“You really know how to wound a woman. Look again.”
So I do. And she’s right. They’re not all the same.
Some are amber. Some are clear. A few are matte black. There are different shapes and sizes.
I point to an amber one. “That.”
“Excellent choice.”
“You probably say that to everyone?”
“No. Some people have terrible taste.”
She reaches for the jar. Our hands brush. Again.
It’s becoming a problem. A problem I’m increasingly uninterested in solving.
“All right.” She places a wick in front of me. “Now we need to secure this in the center.”
She tells me what to do, and I do it. “Very good.”
“I can follow directions.”
“We’ll see.”
I glance at her. She’s grinning.
“Are you always like this?”
“What? Super charming?”
“Annoying.”
She giggles, and it makes my chest clench. “Usually.”
She walks me through measuring the wax, explaining what she’s doing as we go. Temperatures. Ratios. Why different vessels need different wicks.
I came back here because I wanted to understand her process. I’m getting exactly what I asked for.
I’m also discovering that Serena knows her shit. There’s no guessing. No throwing ingredients together and hoping for the best.
She measures everything. Checks everything. Records everything.
She catches me looking at her notes. “Am I passing inspection?”
“I haven't decided.”
“Liar.”
I look at her. She looks unbearably pleased with herself.
“You've been doing everything right so far.”
She presses a hand dramatically against her chest. “Again with the compliments.”
“Don't get used to it.”
“Too late. I'm going to write this date in my diary.”
“This isn't a date.”
Her eyes meet mine. “No?”
I turn back toward the wax. “What now?”
She checks the temperature. “Fragrance.”
She leads me toward another worktable. This one is covered with small bottles.
“Pick something.”
“How?”
“Smell them.”
“All of them?”
“If you want.”
“There have to be at least fifty bottles here.”
“Way more than fifty.”
“Son of a…”
She laughs.
I start opening bottles. The first is too sweet. The second smells like a Christmas tree. The third—
I recoil. “What the hell is that?”
Serena snatches it from me and checks the label. “Fennel.”
“Yuck. I feel like it just punched me in the face.”
She laughs so hard she has to grab the table.
And I just watch her. She really is beautiful.
Serena is alive.
Everything she feels seems to happen across her entire face. When she's amused, she doesn't smile.
She beams.
When she's annoyed, those green eyes flash.
When she talks about this place, there's an energy in her that seems to fill the room.
I don't know what to do with someone like that. Maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about her.
“Here.” She hands me another bottle. “Try this.”
I smell it. Warm. Dark. A little sweet.
“That’s better.”
“I thought you’d like that one.”
“What's in it?”
“Black honey.”
She passes me another.
“Clove.”
Another.
“Dark cherry wood.”
By the time we're finished, she's helped me build something I never would have chosen for myself.
Dark cherry wood. Amber. Black honey. Vanilla. Clove.
And something sharp and herbal underneath it all.
“Absinthe,” she tells me.
I look at her.
“Of course.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means even your candles are weird.”
“Your candle,” she corrects.
She combines the fragrance while I watch.
“So what's it supposed to do?”
“What?”
“My candle.”
“That depends on you.”
“I thought you were the expert.”
“I can tell you what people associate with the ingredients. But you're the one making it.”
She comes to stand beside me.
Close beside me.
“Close your eyes.”
“No.”
“Welles.”
I sigh and close them.
“What do you want?”
“Right now?”
“Right now. Next week. Next year. Whatever comes into your head.”
You.
The answer is so immediate that my eyes open.
Serena is standing inches away.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That's twice tonight you've said nothing when you clearly meant something.”
“Maybe I want people to stop setting shit on fire.”
She laughs.
“Fine. We'll make you a fire-prevention candle.”
“Perfect.”
“You can light it while you inspect warning labels.”
“Even better.”
She turns back toward the table.
I should leave it there.
Instead, I say, “Maybe I want to stop worrying about everything that can go wrong.”
She stills. Apparently that's my answer.
When she turns back, the teasing is gone. “Okay.”
Just that. No joke. No pity.
She doesn't ask me to explain. She pours the fragrance into the melted wax.
“Then that's what we're making.”
She hands me the stirring utensil.
“Slowly.”
I start stirring.
“Not like that.”
“What's wrong with how I'm doing it?”
“You're too aggressive.”
“I'm stirring.”
“You're going to spill it everywhere.”
“It's wax.”
“And you're going to introduce too many air bubbles.”
She steps behind me. Before I can ask what she's doing, her hand slides over mine. Every thought leaves my head.
“Like this.” She guides my hand.
Slow. Easy.
Her body is close enough that I can feel her breasts pressed against my back. Her other hand settles lightly on my forearm. I look down.
Her fingers are smaller than mine. Soft against my skin.
“This is better?” I ask.
“Much.”
Her breath brushes my neck. Fuck the candle.
I turn my head. She's right there.
Her eyes lift to mine. Neither of us moves.
“Serena.”
“Hmm?”
I don't know what I was going to say. Her gaze drops to my mouth.
That's enough. I turn.
Her hand slips from mine as I face her. “Tell me not to.”
She doesn't. Instead, she catches the front of my shirt in her fist.
I kiss her.
And immediately realize I've been thinking about this far more than I was willing to admit.
Her mouth is soft and warm. For one second, neither of us does anything more than that.
One kiss. A first taste. Honey. Champagne. Something warm and spicy I can't quite place.
Then Serena makes a quiet sound against my mouth.
I'm a goner.
My hands slide around her waist, as if they have a mind of their own. Cupping her full, round behind. Bringing her flush against me. Adding fuel to the fire of need already building inside of me.
It’s too much, and not enough all at once.
Her arms circle my neck, and the kiss changes. Deepens.
All that brightness has heat underneath it. I back her against the edge of the worktable.
Her fingers slide into my hair. I kiss her again. And again.
I've spent a week trying not to think about this woman. Apparently, my body has been keeping score.
“Welles.” My name sounds different when she says it like that.
I drag my mouth along her jaw. Her head tips back.
“Still think I'm annoying?”
“Yes.”
She laughs breathlessly.
I kiss the spot beneath her ear.
“Asshole.”
“Woo-woo.”
She grabs my face and kisses me again. Hard. I love it.
My hands settle at her waist before slowly moving over her curves. I've noticed them from the second I walked into her shop.
Now I finally get to touch her. She shivers beneath my hands. I pull back just enough to look at her.
Her curls are mussed. Her lips are swollen from kissing me. Her green eyes have gone darker.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I don't.”
The answer comes without hesitation. She pulls me back to her.
We kiss until I'm not sure how long we've been standing there. Until neither of us is laughing anymore. Until the teasing gives way to something hungrier.
My hand moves along her thigh. I slide it up between her legs, under her skirt. Her breath catches. I stop.
Her eyes meet mine.
“Okay?” “Yes.”
I kiss her again. Slower this time. Then I find the heat of her and stroke.
I pay attention to every little reaction—the way she grips my shoulders, the way her breathing changes, the way she presses closer when I touch her exactly where she wants me.
Whatever this is, I don't want to rush it.
I want to learn her.
And when she finally breaks against me, trembling and breathless, I hold her through it. Her forehead drops against my shoulder.
For several seconds, the only sound in the production room is our breathing.
I press my mouth to her temple.
I don't know why. The gesture feels more intimate than anything else we've done.
That should probably scare me. Instead, I do it again.
Serena laughs softly.
“What?”
“I was just thinking.”
“That’s always dangerous.”
She pinches my side.
I laugh. Actually laugh.
She lifts her head. And stares at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You laughed. I've never heard it.”
“And?”
“You should do it more often.”
Her smile turns softer. I smooth one wild curl away from her face. Her eyes search mine.
Something has changed. I can feel it.
This isn't just attraction anymore. Maybe it never was. This is the start of something more.
She kisses me again. This time it's gentle. No urgency. No teasing.
Just her mouth against mine.
When she pulls away, she keeps her arms around my neck. “You know… We don't have to stop.”
Every muscle in my body goes tight.
Her lips twitch. “There are bedrooms upstairs.”
I stare at her. “Are you inviting me upstairs?”
“I'm considering it.”
“Serena.”
She grins. “Okay. I'm inviting you upstairs.”
I glance toward the abandoned candle. The wax is still in a semi-liquid state on the worktable.
Serena follows my gaze. “Oh.”
“We should probably finish that.”
She considers it. Then looks back at me. “We can come back to it.”
“Isn't there some sort of candle-making rule about that?”
“Not really.”
I scoff. “Aren’t you the candle professional?”
“And you’re the fire chief.” She slides her hand into mine. “Then I guess I'm in very safe hands.”
I look down at our joined hands. Then at her.
The woman I've spent the last week calling annoying. The woman whose smile I can't stop thinking about. The woman who somehow got me to talk about a part of my life I usually keep locked away.
The woman who made me a damn candle.
Maybe she's right. Maybe there's a little magic in everyone.
I squeeze her hand. “Lead the way.”