Chapter Twelve #2
The next day, her cart was completely restocked.
There were a dozen more Mothman stress balls, two full bags of lavender candy, and a third of Glinda’s newest flavor, chamomile.
Taliesin had even bought a few dozen honey sticks and brought a handful of Glinda’s free stickers that she made of her shop logo, a black cat in an old-fashioned witch hat.
Her students would love those. And there, lying on her desk, was a delicate sprig of lavender, wrapped in a pretty cream-colored ribbon.
Maggie picked it up, running her fingers along the grosgrain.
The flower’s calming smell lingered on the dried blooms. An echo, a memory.
She hung the lavender by its ribbon on her bookshelf, and every time she caught the sprig out of the corner of her eye, she furrowed her brow and told herself another lie.
It’s just the small space. The office was too tight, too close.
He was impossible to ignore. A couple of flirty texts, a sprig of lavender…
you’re reaching, Maggie. But she wasn’t inventing the strange pull between them, or the desire she felt building every time she thought about kissing Arthur Taliesin.
It didn’t seem possible that she was consuming his thoughts the way Taliesin consumed hers.
It was embarrassing how little she could concentrate when he was around.
Her eyes were always drawn to his lips, his hands.
She wanted to get close to him just to catch a hint of his cologne.
The man barely looked at her with anything but dismay and dismissal at worst, curiosity at best. Another lie.
She’d remind herself of the tender way he’d held her arm after the ghoul attack or the way he stared at her lips as if all he wanted, too, was a taste, and she would confuse herself again.
And if he was thinking about her the way she was thinking about him? It was irresponsible. She knew firsthand the damage that could come from getting involved with someone so entrenched in her daily life. She couldn’t put herself through that again. She wouldn’t.
She could think herself in circles about it, but on Thursday at Bean There, Done That, if he looked at her like that again, she would shut it down. She would have to.
—
For such a small town, Galloway somehow managed to be home to three coffee shops.
Bean There, Done That was on the edge of downtown, three blocks north of Rodrigo’s.
This extra distance away from her apartment meant she didn’t frequent it as much as one of the other two in town, but Bean There was warm and welcoming.
An unseasonable fire was roaring in a hearth to fight the pall’s damp chill, and there were wide booths and couches that made you want to sit and talk for hours, which was exactly what she and Taliesin needed. Maggie wouldn’t be leaving Bean There until she got some answers about the pall.
Taliesin sat tucked into a circular booth in the back corner, near the fire.
He had covered the table with papers, file folders, and stacks of books.
This late in the day, with the morning rush long over and the evening crowd already thinning, she hoped the employees didn’t mind if they spread out a bit, but she made a mental note to leave an extra-large tip.
Taliesin didn’t notice her come in, and she took a moment to watch him.
He looked down at one of his papers with intense concentration, chewing on his lip absentmindedly.
The fire reflected in his glasses, and his hair fell across his forehead.
He picked up a book, scanning the text and tucking the paper he’d been reading between its pages, perhaps making some connection that he would want to reference later.
After a moment, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Even now, nearly a week after his bout of pall sickness, he still looked exhausted.
Maggie’s palms were sweating. They had spent weeks together, sitting within two feet of each other, but this felt different.
Closer. Knees knocking beneath the table, elbows and shoulders brushing, shared breath over the top of the table as they looked through papers.
Her cheeks burned at this wholly imagined scenario, but the past week had been confusing.
Would she get the insufferable Taliesin who drove her to distraction?
The charming man she’d caught glimpses of?
Or the one who seemed to be drawn to her in the same fevered way she was drawn to him?
It had been a long time since she’d felt anything like the lust that had burned through her earlier in the week, but it was easy to explain away.
It was just his closeness, their small space.
It was the stranger’s kiss on Beltane, which seemed to have opened a door she’d kept locked for years.
She didn’t want to kiss Arthur Taliesin at all, she reasoned.
She was just yearning for her masked man. She almost believed it, too.
Taliesin glanced at his watch and then looked toward the door.
His face brightened when he saw her, like he was very much looking forward to this brainstorming session.
His smile was wide, and she saw crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
She had seen this version of Taliesin once before, but it had been two-dimensional.
Now he was here before her in the flesh, and she hoped he couldn’t see the way her eyes had gone wide from across the room.
He abandoned his papers and books on the table. “Good afternoon.” His voice was strangely formal. For just a moment, his smile fell, and he gave a small shake of his head.
“Hey,” she responded, a completely uninspired greeting.
“Um, I’m going to get a coffee.” She had a feeling she would regret it.
It had been a long time since she’d been able to handle coffee after three in the afternoon, but there wasn’t much of a chance she’d get through this without something to do with her hands.
“It’s on me.” He walked with her over to the counter. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your cream cheese pastry. I already asked Liv to set one aside.” Liv? “What do you like to drink?”
She should insist that she pay for her own drink, but she hesitated for only a moment before replying, “A lavender iced latte, please.”
He grinned at her like they shared some kind of secret. “To calm your nerves?”
And then she was thinking about the way he’d rolled that damn lavender candy around on his tongue, but she managed to say, “I’m fine. What is there to be nervous about?”
Before he could answer, the woman behind the counter said, “Ready for another coffee, Artie?”
Maggie looked over at Taliesin and then behind him, searching for the Artie she was speaking to. Arthur Taliesin looked less like an Artie than anyone she had ever met in her life.
After he ordered their drinks, the woman spoke over the hiss of the milk steamer. “You’re spoiling me today. It’s been too long since we last saw you.”
“Sorry, Liv.” There was a slight strain in his voice, as if he didn’t feel completely comfortable. “Things have been a little hectic.”