Page 10 of A Witch’s Guide to Surviving Halloween
I chuckle sheepishly. “Well, that goes to show how little you know me. My perfect vacation is a staycation where I curl up on my porch every morning with a book and a cup of coffee.”
He eyes me warily. “That doesn’t sound very exciting.”
We stop at a booth, and I make a show of examining the crystals on display.
I finger a rose quartz heart, tracing the smooth, cool curves, and shrug.
“I disagree. Losing yourself in a good book is the opportunity to live a thousand lives and visit a thousand new places. In the time it took you to climb the nearest mountain, I’ve ridden dragons, been swept away in a whirlwind romance, and defeated villains on a battlefield. That sounds pretty exciting to me.”
I glance up from beneath my lashes to find Oliver studying me with a pleased gleam in his eye and the shadow of a smile on his lips. “Oh, I’m not disagreeing that books give you a chance to escape. But don’t you ever want to experience those things in person? Or at least the closest thing?”
His warm, deep voice wraps around me, making my stomach flip in all sorts of chaotic ways. Swallowing the feeling, I cock my hip to the side and give him my best insolent smirk. “I fail to understand how a trip to Thailand will help me understand what it’s like to ride a dragon.”
Oliver laughs and shakes his head. “Okay, maybe not that. But there are so many other things in life worth experiencing.”
“Like?” I wonder, regretting it the moment he leans in closer, making my heart hammer against my breastbone until I’m sure he can hear it. I hold my breath when his gaze flits to my lips, ever so briefly, as if that’s where he’ll find the answer to my question.
His fingers brush mine, and he grabs the rose quartz heart, holding it up in the small space between us. “Love, for one.”
With a deep, shaky breath, I push down the way his words make my heart (and other areas) clench with anticipation. I barely know this man, yet I’m already wondering what he could mean by the word love. Is he talking about the feeling, a person, or something more physical?
Clearing my throat, I pluck the crystal from his fingers and hold it up for emphasis. “We have love here in Ashwood Haven.”
The corner of his lip curves, showing off that dimple once again. “I don’t doubt it.”
For several breaths, we remain like that, nearly chest to chest, my heart beating so fast it could be a hummingbird’s wings.
But I refuse to be the first to look away, to give in and reveal how off-balance he’s made me.
With our eyes locked, something flutters in my chest, making my heart thud so hard it hurts.
I recognize the sensation immediately.
The town’s magic is bubbling again, and the sound of someone shrieking breaks the tension between us.
In unison, we spin around, searching for the source of the outcry. The flutter of magic draws me toward two familiar girls standing at a soap booth, though I can’t quite recall where I know them from.
“Rach, what is going on? Are you having a stroke?” one cries, eyes wide and round.
Her friend is holding a hand over her mouth, seemingly frozen.
I shove my drink into Oliver’s hand and hurry over, not quite running to avoid adding to the panic. The last thing I need is to cause another scene and draw Stacy’s disapproval once again.
I plaster a friendly smile onto my face, doing my best to sound calm. “Hi, is everything okay?”
The first girl shakes her head frantically, never tearing her gaze from her unmoving friend. “I don’t know. I don’t know what she’s saying. It’s like she’s lost control of her tongue.”
My mouth falls open, but no words come out. I have absolutely no idea how to respond to that, and it takes me what feels like forever to compose myself enough to turn to her friend. She’s shaking like a leaf but is otherwise motionless, as if moving will somehow make the whole situation worse.
“Hon,” I start, channeling Grandma through my voice, “can you tell me what’s wrong?”
The girl shakes her head so hard I fear she’ll give herself whiplash.
“Okay, okay. Take a deep breath for me,” I coo, demonstrating how I want her to breathe until she follows along and calms herself down. I reach up and gently pull her hand from her mouth. “Can you tell me your name?”
The girl takes another shaky breath and then opens her mouth. Out tumbles the most nonsensical string of sounds and syllables I’ve ever heard in my life. It’s how I imagine a Dr. Seuss character would sound, and it takes everything in me not to burst out in a horrified laugh.
The first girl shrieks again. “See!”
I look for Oliver and find him already at my side. The stream of sounds that could vaguely be considered speech didn’t resemble any language I’ve ever heard, but being so well-traveled, he’d know better than I would.
“Do you recognize what language she’s speaking?” I ask him before turning to the first girl. “Does she speak any other languages?”
The girl shakes her head, dark curls falling into her eyes. “I mean, we took Spanish in high school together, but that is not Spanish.”
“Oliver?” I plead, hoping for some kind of answer that makes sense.
Brows furrowing, he looks somewhere between perplexed, horrified, and stunned. It takes him a moment to compose himself, swallowing hard and shifting on his feet.
“Say something else. Have you bought anything tonight?”
She opens her mouth to answer, and once again, a nonsensical cacophony of squeaks and wordless sounds comes out. Instantly, she bursts into tears. Her sobs are more akin to a warble, and that only makes her cry uncontrollably until she’s weeping so hard I’m worried she’s going to make herself sick.
I look at Oliver, but he just shakes his head. “I’ve got nothin’.”
I wrap an arm around the sobbing girl in my best attempt at comfort. “Maybe we should find a nurse or doctor or—where did you get those?” I point at the coffee cups the first girl desperately clutches, recognition washing me with dread.
“Umm . . . the bookstore? Why? What’s wrong with them?” She holds them at bay and studies them as if whatever caused this will jump out of the cup and attack her.
And then it dawns on me why the girls look familiar. They are the same two I saw coming out of my shop while waiting for Oliver.
“No, no, nothing’s wrong with them,” I lie, “but I think I know who can help us.” I lead the girls back toward Moonlit Pages, mentally begging Lucy to remember what charm she’d used on their drinks.
“Is everything alright over here?”
My heart drops through the bottom of my stomach. I stop our small group so that I can turn and face Don, who is hovering nearby with hands on his hips.
“Everything’s fine,” I lie, my voice cracking ever so slightly. “Just a little overwhelmed. We’re all going to hang out at the store for a little while to catch our breath.”
Don’s eyes narrow before sliding to Oliver and giving the new guy in town a once-over; the drawn-out analysis makes me jumpy, because as lovable as Don is, one thing he takes very seriously is Ashwood Haven and its reputation.
He wasn’t kidding when he said all Oliver had to do was run an honest business and stay out of trouble, and so far, he’s been right smack dab in the middle of trouble since he got to town.
I have no reason to believe it’s intentional by any means, but Don won’t see that.
All he’ll see is problems for the town and Oliver standing nearby.
“Uh-huh,” Don grunts before turning his attention back on me. “Well, I trust you to take care of things, but you know where I am if you need anything.”
I soften at his concern, sounding more like an overprotective father figure than the town’s mayor.
“I do,” I assure him, turning back to my small group of distressed girls . . . and Oliver. Before Don has a chance to tag along, I usher everyone out of the market and back to the store, willing this all to be an easy fix.