Page 12 of Bewitched & Bewildered (Witches of Starbrook #1)

Chapter 12

Juniper

Something is going wrong at Hawthorne Apothecary.

I don’t mean the usual dilemmas. This is more than the ghosts haunting the basement and far more than an empty shop.

The day is actually going well. I’ve had a few customers pop in, and even though some didn’t buy anything, they’re still coming. I’ll take it.

One customer is even a fresh face, which means Laurel’s marketing efforts are working.

No, the business isn’t the problem today. We’re entering the dead of fall, and I’m freezing to death. Every customer who comes in comments on how cold it is, too.

I shuffle to the thermostat. Seventy-one degrees. It should be seventy-one degrees. Why is it so chilly in here?

With frigid fingers, I fiddle with the thermostat. I have no experience with heating and air conditioning, but it doesn’t take an expert to realize our heat stopped working—on the coldest day of the year. At least it’s not the middle of winter.

The cold makes it hard to work and even harder to want to stay in the shop. There’s a more significant predicament. My potions require a specific environment—and 55 degrees in a poorly insulated shop is not that.

My initial instinct is to text the bad witches group chat—named that by Laurel, naturally.

Juniper

Bad news (as per usual)

The heating is busted.

Does anyone know what happened?

Rowan

It’s old.

Juniper

Obviously.

What should I do?

Rowan

Call a repair person.

Juniper

Lol thanks.

Can we afford it?

Rowan

Nope.

Laurel

DON’T WORRY! Laurel to the rescue.

I know a guy!

I’ll send someone your way. Xx

I shouldn’t trust Laurel with something like this, and I don’t. I spend half an hour scouring witchlist for someone who will do the work for free or a favor.

No bites, at least not from anyone who will know what to do. A few creeps contact me, but I swiftly block them.

At last, heavy footsteps enter the shop. I should have had more faith in my sister.

I lift my head, offering the patron a warm smile. “Sorry about?—”

Ozan stands in the doorway with a tool belt and toolbox. He wears a brown work jacket, and his hair is in disarray. I let my gaze linger longer than I should, wandering over the pink hue lighting up his face.

“—the cold.” I gulp.

OZAN

I haven’t seen the Hawthorne sisters around my shop—minus Juniper in disguise—since they opened their apothecary. Some popped in beforehand. Maple was kind enough to buy some herbs, and we had a lovely conversation about her rosemary bread.

The youngest sister, Laurel, is the last person I expect to come in. My greeting is more of a grimace than a smile. I can’t help but worry she’s here to flirt with me again.

The worry disappears when I see the dazed, urgent look she wears.

“There’s an emergency,” she says.

“What is it?” I quickly come out from behind the counter. My lips tug into a frown. “Did something happen to Juniper?”

She nods vigorously .

“ What happened?” I ask urgently.

A smile plays on Laurel’s lips—the first sign it may not be all that serious. My shoulders drop.

“The heating at the shop broke.” Her frazzled nature fades. “She asked for your help.”

Whatever she’s planning, it seems more suspicious as the moments pass. Juniper and I have been talking more lately, and I would even say we’ve been civil… but I doubt she wants my help with this—or with anything.

“Juniper wants my help?” I scoff. “I doubt that.”

I can’t imagine Juniper asking for anyone’s help, much less mine.

“You need to hurry!” she says. “She’s freezing . The longer you wait, the angrier she’ll be.”

Juniper definitely doesn’t want my help. So, why is it that when Laurel talks about her freezing , I fight the urge to run to her rescue? I’m unqualified for the position. I’m no repairman, but minor fixes around my apothecary gave me some practice.

“Isn’t she always angry?” I smile wryly.

Her eyes widen. “You’re wasting time asking questions?”

I have more questions than the ones I’m asking—mainly, what kind of heating do they have? Is it oil, or electric, or…

Maybe Laurel isn’t the best person to ask.

“Are you sure she asked for me?” My eyes narrow.

I try to be a trusting guy, but the innocent way Laurel looks at me says she’s plotting something.

“I’m positive. She wants to see you. She needs you.”

Even though I can’t trust her—she may be working some kind of younger sister magic I’m not privy to—my stomach flips.

Juniper needs me ?

It doesn’t take much to convince me to close the shop down, grab my toolbox, and run to the Hawthorne Apothecary.

Juniper looks at me with wide eyes, and within seconds, I realize she is not expecting me to show up. It seems she doesn’t need me after all.

I set my toolbox on the floor.

“Laurel told me to come,” I say.

“I figured.”

The room is chilly. It’s not terrible, but I know it won’t benefit her potions.

“Didn’t want to wait around for a repairperson?” I guess.

“Exactly.” She comes out with crossed arms, looking me up and down. “Can you help me or not?”

“I can try. Do you have any idea what’s wrong with it?”

“Nope.”

“No weird noises? Was it working when you arrived?”

“I don’t...” She looks up at the ceiling. “…think so. It was cold when I came. I tried to turn the heating up, but that didn’t help.”

“And is it gas or electric?”

“Electric.” She looks thoughtful for a moment and nods. “Definitely electric.”

“Then I guess it can’t be the obvious…”

“What would the obvious be?”

“That you ran out of gas without realizing.”

Her jaw drops. “You think I’m stupid?”

“I didn’t say that. You did.”

Juniper is the most intelligent person I know—she always has been. When I ran for class president, she was the only one who could potentially get in my way .

I won, of course—and that’s why she looks at me like dirt on her shoe. She still impressed me in the debates. I never wanted to go up against her again, and I didn’t. That doesn’t stop her from going up against me at every opportunity.

I smile, pretending she doesn’t look like she hopes I’ll disappear into a pile of dust.

Her nose and cheeks are pink from the cold—and it’s not even that cold in here. She shoves her hands into her jacket pockets and looks away, the frown still firmly on her lips. I want to help her. How could anyone see her like this and not want to help out?

“Can you help me or not?” she asks.

“I’m trying.” I take a few steps into the building, peering at the walls. “Can I see the thermostat?”

“It’s this way.”

We meander through the empty shop. The wooden floorboards creak under my heavy gait. She leads me to the back room, and I follow, letting the divider curtain slide over my face.

The thermostat is straight out of the 90s. It’s still on a wheel, unlike the one I had installed in my shop.

“Why is this thing set to seventy-seven?” I turn to her with wide eyes. “Do you seriously run it that high?”

“No!” she snaps. “I was trying to see if turning it up would fix it.”

I shake my head. “That’s not how it works…”

“Fine. I’m turning it down to sixty-nine.”

“Well… other than that, there’s nothing wrong here,” I say. “I’ll check the breaker and heater next. I’m guessing they’re in the basement.”

She points at the door. “It’s down there, but…”

I lift a brow, smirking. “What? You’re still afraid? ”

She always hated the basement. When we were younger, I taunted her with it.

“Maybe!” she hisses. “It’s haunted. I swear by it.”

“You’re a witch. You can’t be afraid of ghosts.”

But she is. And I guess I would be, too, if I recently lost my mom.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” I say. “I need someone to hold the flashlight in case I have to get my hands dirty.”

Her gaze drifts down to my hands, and I swear, her cheeks blaze.

“Fine.” She turns her back on me.

I grab my toolbox, and we descend the creaky staircase. The only light is a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. I can see why she’s not a fan of the space. It’s dank, dusty, musty, and otherwise empty.

They don’t even use it to hold supplies.

“Look at all this wasted space,” I say. “All because you’re afraid of ghosts.”

“Hush.”

“Tell me something...” I move behind the bulky heater and check the plug, tugging it. It’s secure enough. I unplug it all the way.

Sometimes, turning something on and off is the best plan.

“No,” she says. “I’ll tell you nothing.”

“If this place is haunted,” I continue, “why is it only in the basement? Ghosts aren’t confined to a single room.”

She exhales, blowing her bangs up. “It’s not haunted, all right? I know that.”

“Just checking.” I plug the heater back in and wait for it to rush to life, but…

Nothing .

I straighten up. “Circuit breaker?”

“Right there.” She points at the metal box on the wall.

I fling the thing open and peer at the circuits. A puff of laughter escapes my lips.

“There it is,” I say.

“What?” She groans. “Really?”

“You have a blown fuse. Give me some time down here, and I can fix it.”

“You don’t need me to stay?” She hesitates. “I can hold the flashlight.”

“No, no.” I open my toolbox, rummaging around. “I have this under control. It’s similar to the one at my shop.”

“All right…” She’s already creeping upstairs. “If you insist.”

“I do.” I chuckle under my breath. “Get out of here.”

This day could be going worse. I manage to fix the heater—which means I don’t have to be the one to tell Juniper she has to shell out for a new system. Thank the gods.

The tension in my shoulders releases when the furnace comes to life. If everything goes according to plan, it’s already blowing warm air for Juniper and her customers.

When I go upstairs, I find a smiling Juniper. It’s an actual smile—no bitterness—just wide eyes and her plush, pink cheeks.

“You did it?” she asks.

“Yup. Two of them were blown, and I fixed them both. It was easy. ”

She shakes her head, looking away from me. “I could have done it myself…”

“Could you? You wouldn’t even go in the basement.”

When she’s looking at me again, it’s with a glare. That perfect smile is gone, but she looks just as adorable. “I can ! I choose not to.”

“It’s okay to ask for help.”

The words sound obvious to me, but they cause a thick silence to settle between us. Her eyes soften. The moment passes too quickly, and her expression goes hard again.

“How can I repay you?” she asks.

We stand in the middle of the empty shop. The light outside fades as the sunset captures Starbrook in its golden glow. A rainbow light shines onto her fair skin, and I smile, stepping closer to her.

“You can’t,” I say. “I don’t want your money. It’s no good here.”

“There has to be another way. Come on.”

“It’s nothing. I got the job done in under half an hour.”

“I guess…” Her hands hang loosely at her sides. “I don’t understand why you’re helping me. I’ve been horrible to you.”

“Horrible is an exaggeration.”

“Is it?”

“It is—and I don’t understand why a little neighborly help confuses you. I guess we don’t understand each other.”

“I’ve always known that.”

The heater is on, but the building is old and drafty. It will take time to warm up. Juniper’s cheeks are still pink, matching the rose color of her lips, and I can’t look away. She doesn’t know how to accept help—that’s obvious—but I’m fighting the urge to offer her more.

What I want to give her is something she may reject .

I rub my hands together, muttering a spell under my breath. My hands grow warm, and I take hers in mine.

This may end badly. She might pull away—or slap me. I wouldn’t put it past her. I may even deserve it, considering I forgot to give a warning. The sting never comes.

“You’re warm!” she gasps.

“It’s magic.” I chuckle. “You’re not telling me you don’t know about magic, are you?”

“No.” Juniper glares, but it doesn’t have the usual effect when she’s fighting off a smile. “It’s a simple spell. I know all about it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m terrible at spells,” she says. “Big, small, and everything in between… they take a lot out of me.”

“Oh?”

I’ve never heard Juniper admit she’s bad at anything .

She shakes her head. “There’s something about summoning energy. I struggle with it.”

“Hm…” I rub my thumb against the back of her hand. “Potion-making is a powerful skill. You can do anything with your potions that I would do with a spell. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Her gaze softens, and her eyes meet mine. We stay like that, in silence for some time.

“Thank you,” she says, breaking the quiet with her soft, smooth voice.

“It’s nothing. Just neighborly help, like I said.”

“Really?” She lifts a brow. “That’s all this is?”

What is she asking? I gulp.

It can’t be anything else, no matter how sweet she looks when smiling at me and how good her velvet hands feel in mine. I doubt Juniper wants anything more. Even if she does, I can’t give it .

Not yet.

“Do you want it to be something else?” I whisper. Saying the words aloud feels daring.

I’m afraid of her answer, searching for clues in her expression. We’re feet from where we first kissed near the cash register. She grabbed my shirt and pulled me in. I gasped when our lips touched for the first time.

Then I kissed her again.

It wasn’t the most romantic spot, but it wasn’t supposed to be.

Something about it feels romantic now. I can’t give her anything she deserves, but I think… if she asks me to, I would still kiss her. I’m as weak for her now as I’ve always been.

“No…” She lifts a shoulder. “This is good. I like this.”

Her words bring me back to reality. Of course, Juniper doesn’t want to kiss me. I don’t mind. We’re holding hands, no matter the circumstances.

I like it, too.