Chapter Three
Chapter
Three
“Why didn’t the previous owner clear the grounds of restless spirits as part of the closing process?”
The question has been niggling at the back of my mind since I got home from the bar last night.
Spiritual cleansing services are standard practice these days.
Surely with a purchase as large as Xander claims this manor is, the seller would have sweetened the deal by handling the removal of any residual ghosts.
Until now, Xander has spent our ninety-minute drive to Oak Spires telling me all about the manor and the grounds and his grand plans for special events once the business is fully up and running: small weddings and exclusive wine tastings and extravagant parties.
Now that we’re within ten minutes of the property, I’ve finally had a chance to get in a question of my own.
“The previous owner hired some guy to come in, but this place is my baby, Pip. She deserves the best.” Xander leans forward in the passenger seat and points at a hill in the distance. “There she is.”
From this far away, all I can make out is the sheer size of the estate.
It’s nestled on top of a hill, overlooking the rest of the town.
As the final miles slip away beneath us, Xander seems to transform.
There’s an excitement to him, sure, but there’s a steadiness, too.
A confidence that quells some of my fear that this was all a very dramatic—very expensive—post-breakup decision.
“Turn here.” Xander points to an unmarked driveway, and I take a left onto a crushed-stone road that winds up the hill.
Massive trees surround us on both sides, blocking some of the sunlight.
“Once Louie and I officially settle on the name, we’ll put a sign out front.
Something people won’t miss. We’re petitioning the town for permission to put signs a mile in either direction to help bring traffic our way. ”
“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.” I keep my voice light, but before I can get too concerned, the trees part and the driveway brings us to the house proper.
The three-story manor’s masonry exterior gives it a cozy feel, contrasting the large windows cased with black metal.
Above the grand front doors is a balcony seating area, and everything else is covered with the most beautiful greenery.
Ivy climbing the sides of the house. A lush green lawn despite the lateness of the season.
And though they’re not visible from here, Xander said there are massive gardens out back.
The entire place is like something out of a Regency movie, and it stirs something in my chest that feels like wonder.
I follow Xander’s directions and park next to a big white van with the name Luscious Landscaping painted on the side.
“Well?” Xander asks as we climb out of my ancient Toyota Camry. He gestures toward the house—mansion, estate, whatever it technically is—and waits with a hopeful smile. “What do you think?”
“It’s incredible, Xan. Really.” I breathe in the country air and imagine what this place will look like in another few weeks, once the rest of the leaves have lost their green and burn like sunset.
From this high on the hill, you can see beyond the trees to the entire town, including the ivy-covered college buildings and grassy quad with ant-size students hurrying from class to class.
A stab of nostalgia courses through me. The four years I spent at Oak Spires University were some of the happiest of my life.
I got to see Xander every day. I didn’t have to worry about finances the way I do now.
I was out from under my parents’ thumb, but I was part of my family.
I was still close with my younger sister, Flora, too.
A surge of grief tightens my throat, but I swallow it down.
If Flora wanted to be part of my life, she could be.
She cut me out the same time my parents did.
I grab my Lucente-Cole bag from the back seat as a thickly muscled man approaches with a clipboard. I wonder if this is Best Friend Louie, but Xander introduces him as Andres. The men share a brief, hushed conversation, and worry etches itself across Xander’s brow.
“Everything okay?” I ask, hoisting my bag over one shoulder.
“Just a small issue with the landscaping. It shouldn’t take long.” Xander steps away and motions to the front steps. “Door’s unlocked. Louie can give you the grand tour. Go ahead and get started without me.” He slips away, following Andres around the corner of the manor and out of sight.
Left alone, I climb the stone steps and let myself into the B&B.
Inside, the grand foyer draws my attention up to the vaulted ceiling.
Light spills in from all the large windows.
Dark hardwood floors cover everywhere I can see, including the ornately carved staircase that leads to the second floor.
Despite the old-fashioned building, Xander has styled it with cozy modern furniture that should feel out of place but doesn’t.
My bag slides from my shoulder, and I leave it at the base of the stairs to follow the only sound in the building, searching for the infamous Louie.
The rumble of distant voices draws me through the main floor toward the back of the house, where I find a kitchen with gleaming stainless steel appliances, a true crime podcast playing from expensive speakers, and hands down the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.
She’s a white woman with creamy pale skin and strawberry blond hair that she’s piled on top of her head in a bun.
She stands in profile to me, highlighting her strong nose and full lips.
The curve of her chest and hips. The way her forearm muscles flex as she kneads a giant mound of dough, the furrow of her brow as she concentrates…
Watching her work does seriously unprofessional things to my insides.
Making bread has no business being this goddamn sexy.
I lean my hip against the counter, trying not to outright ogle this woman, but my elbow catches the edge of a teacup. The tiny porcelain cup crashes to the ground and promptly shatters into a thousand pieces. The baker lets out a startled yelp as she whirls around.
“Who the hell are you?” she demands with a scowl that would leave lesser mortals weak in the knees.
Oh, who am I kidding. My face burns under her scrutiny, and I scramble to undo my mistake.
“I’m so sorry. I can fix it. One second.
” I trace a repair sigil in the air, funneling as much magic as my distracted brain can handle.
The little teacup pulls itself back together, and I pluck it off the floor. “See? All better.”
The scowl lessens. A bit. “You’re the witch Alex hired.”
“Alex?” It takes me a beat to understand who she means. Xander. Alexander. Alex. “Right. Yes. That’s me! Xander got pulled away by the landscaper. He said Louie would be here to give me a tour?”
“Of course he did.” The baker rolls her eyes and grabs a towel, wiping the flour from her hands.
She covers the dough she’d been kneading, turns off her podcast, and crosses the room to me.
As she gets closer, I drink in the details of her freckled face.
Green eyes the color of sunlight through a canopy of leaves.
The top few buttons of her shirt are undone, the neckline falling on one side to show off her collarbone.
As she draws near, I note the difference in our heights. I’m on the tall side of average, five foot seven, and she’s a few inches shorter, five four or so. She looks wholly unimpressed by my presence in her kitchen. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
Following her back into the main hall, I try to unscramble my brain. Xander didn’t invite me here to lust after the woman baking for his B&B. Unless…Is she why Xander asked about my love life last night?
I shake the ridiculous thought away. That is definitely not what Xander intended. I’m here to clear the building of ghosts and be on my way again. Yet despite telling myself to get it together, I feel the sway of the baker’s hips like a shot of adrenaline straight into my veins.
The woman stops in the main foyer, a scowl pinching her face when she sees the bag I dropped off at the base of the stairs. My things are clearly out of place in a room where everything was meticulously chosen and arranged.
“Will you be needing any of that?” She nods toward my bag.
“Not unless I find ghosts on the property.” I take a deep breath and settle into the professional witch mode I’ve spent years perfecting. I’ve done this countless times before. A hot redhead isn’t going to undo me. I reach out a hand. “I’m Pippa, by the way. Pippa Ainsley.”
“Elle.” She shakes my hand, her grip firm and warm against my cold fingers. “Where would you like to start?”
“As far away from the front door as possible. I’ll work from the back of the house forward and toss anything unwanted out the door.”
Her eyes flick from me to the bag sitting by our feet, her expression unreadable. After a beat, she turns on her heel and leads me up the main staircase and into the bedroom farthest from where we started. It’s a corner suite with a private bathroom and small office area.
“This is…incredible.” It’s tastefully decorated.
There’s a queen-size bed in a distressed wood frame with matching side tables bookending it.
Olive-green paint covers paneled walls. The way the pillows are arranged, with the extra blankets draped tastefully on the end of the bed, is cozy and quaint.
Xander has subscribed to interior design magazines since college, and it shows.
The intentionality of everything eases some of my rebound-business worries.
While Elle loiters at the doorway, I move to the center of the room, beneath a stunning crystal chandelier. Deep breath. This is the fun part.