11. Your Favorite Drink #2
“You don’t store these in plastic bins?” Her husky voice echoed in the tight quarters of the shed.
When she pulled her arm back, she held out a long strand of orange garland from the craft store.
The kind that Fern and her mother wrapped around fences, banisters, and lampposts in front of the bookstore this time of year, to give it that little extra pop of color.
Some of her lavender waves got caught on the leaves as they brushed past her face and Sparrow frowned.
Fern reached for it quickly, planning to detangle herself without causing any additional trouble for the other witch. Instead, a spark traveled up her arm as their hands met. Sparrow had reached for the garland at the same time, probably intending to tug it loose from her hair.
She held her breath as those dark eyes narrowed to the point where their fingers touched. Carefully, quietly, the dark-haired witch tugged at the magic in her veins, saying nothing as she channeled it through her fingertips and into Fern’s messy waves.
If not for the slight tingle it caused, she might not have realized at all that the other witch had used her magic to remedy the situation.
“There,” Sparrow said at last, her voice a bit more breathless than before. “Are you all right, little witch?”
“Y-yes! Thank you so much, oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” Fern squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the ridiculous stream of words tumbling from her mouth.
“You should really store these properly in the off season,” Sparrow commented, gesturing to the garland she now wrapped around her fist.
Fern flushed in embarrassment. “You’re absolutely right! I will need to do that when I put them up this year.”
“Grab the rest of that garland. I’ll get the scarecrows,” Sparrow ordered. “We will come back for the hay bales.”
“Okay!” Fern chirped without hesitation.
Together, they made four trips total from the storage shed to the front of the bookstore, retrieving all the decorations they would need to spruce up the front of the shop for October first. The rest of the morning passed in a blur as she explained where things went and Sparrow instructed her on how best to accomplish each step.
Fern blindly obeyed the older witch, her no-nonsense librarian tone brooking no argument.
When, at last, the dark-haired witch announced that they were nearly done, she sighed in relief. Sparrow took ten steps backward from the bookstore, out onto the cobbled street, and observed their work. Her blue eyes moved rapidly from one end to the other before she began calling out orders.
“Turn that scarecrow twenty degrees to the left.”
“That hay bale needs to be moved six inches right, closer to the front door.”
Fern hopped to it, making each minor correction as instructed.
When a full minute passed without a new instruction, she stepped back into the street beside the other witch and took in the sight of their hard work.
She let out a pleased little gasp, overjoyed to see that it looked exactly as it had every previous year.
Somehow, Sparrow had managed to recreate the exact design Fern’s mother had been using for the last fifteen years. Did she have a photographic memory? Could she see the previous display in her mind? Fern wondered.
“Will the bunting hold up against the autumn breeze? Do we need to reinforce it?” Sparrow asked.
“Oh, yes, my parents had it enchanted years ago,” she replied quickly.
Those blue eyes landed on Fern again as Sparrow nodded.
It took the pair of them another two hours to wrap the orange leave garland around all the appropriate places in front of the bookstore.
The lamppost closest to the shop got an orange leaf wreath as well, with a pretty black bow and gold details.
When they finished, she could hardly believe her eyes. The pretty older witch had seen to every detail—even the ones that Fern had overlooked. Tears welled up as she looked at the perfect replica of her mother’s display. Beside her, the other witch stiffened.
“What’s wrong?” Sparrow asked in a low murmur.
Fern wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “Nothing! It’s just…it’s everything I hoped for.”
“Oh,” Sparrow breathed out the words, her eyebrows raised.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Fern cried, throwing her arms around the witch’s neck. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
That was the moment she realized what she had done. That she had embraced the pretty librarian the way she would her mother or a close friend. Their faces were mere inches apart, their breaths mingling in little puffs against the chill of the fall breeze.
Beneath her, the dream witch had gone completely still. Fern pulled back ever -so -slightly, her hazel eyes meeting those deep blue orbs she adored. When Sparrow let out a ragged breath, she couldn’t help but glance down at those soft lips, painted burgundy and just barely open.
“Oh, goddess, I’m so sorry, Miss Blackburne,” Fern mumbled, jumping back a step to put some distance between them.
That made two near kisses today. With Sparrow Blackburne. Her mind raced as she waited breathlessly for the other witch to respond to her little outburst. The thump of her racing heart felt like the galloping of horses at full speed, overwhelmingly loud and distracting.
“Just Sparrow is fine,” said the dark-haired witch softly.
Heat rose up Fern’s neck and warmed her cheeks as she took in the casual permission. “Oh! Miss Sparrow, then.”
“No,” came Sparrow’s immediate response, her voice suddenly deeper than before. “Just Sparrow. Say it.”
Fern blinked in surprise at the commanding tone, the same one with which the witch had been giving her orders all morning. It was unexpectedly sexy in this moment—not permission, then, but a demand. Of course she would be in charge, she thought, stifling a nervous giggle.
“Sparrow,” she whispered into the space between them.
“Good girl,” the dark-haired witch replied.
She choked on her next breath, coughing roughly as she tried to recover. “Well, then! The next task is hanging the candles from the ceiling of the bookstore. S-Shall we?”
Without a word, Sparrow followed her back into Petals & Pages. The store felt stuffy after being outside for so long in the chilly wind. It would take all of Fern’s energy to concentrate on the project at hand with the gorgeous librarian just a few feet away. But she had to try.