Page 16 of Bewitched & Bewildered (Witches of Starbrook #1)

Chapter 16

Juniper

The lapis lazuli he gave me dangles around my neck, hidden under my dress, and I wonder if this is part of its intention. It is a stone of communication, after all. Blue crystals usually are.

But I doubt he meant for me to use it like this…

I tore down a stranger, and it may have been his ex-wife.

Arguing with Ozan is a pastime of mine, but what she said is over the top. Bringing her date is, too.

She’s gone now. Most people are. The town square has gone quiet, and only the vendors remain.

I should talk to Ozan. Even though I was standing up for him, I owe him an apology. I embarrassed him—not just in front of the other woman, but the entire festival.

It’s embarrassing for me, too. My sisters will never let this go.

I put off approaching him until the night is nearly over. My sisters are in the car, bringing the items back to the shop, and I’m about to call it a night… when Ozan draws near to me instead .

He looks sheepish when he does, standing with his hands in his pockets and a half-smile on his face.

“Need any help?” he asks.

“We already took care of everything.” I smirk. “You should have come sooner.”

This may be my first time requesting his presence. Things are changing, and I don’t know when it started or where it will end.

He lets out a short laugh. “You’re right. That wasn’t very chivalrous of me. I guess that’s because you’re the chivalrous one.”

I wince. “Listen. I’m sorry, that was embarrassing?—”

“No. It was sweet.”

“I’m never sweet.”

“It was sweet by my standards. If it weren’t for you, I would have had to brag about my business myself. That would be an ugly look, so… thank you.”

I press my lips together. “Was that your ex? Seriously?”

He shrugs. “I guess so.”

“Was she always a monster?”

“No?” He shakes his head. “Or… I don’t know. I don’t think so. She’s going through a rough patch.”

It’s a divorce, I guess. It’s hard for both sides—not that I would know.

“I’m glad I never got married,” I say. “That feels like… a lot.”

“There’s still time. You never think about getting married?”

“Not really. I haven’t had anything close to that in… well, in a long time. What? Are you going to sell marriage to me after that?”

“I may not be the best salesperson. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll get married again. ”

I find it astounding that he would consider remarrying at all. Curiosity nips at me—but I don’t take the call.

“That’s what I thought.” I step closer and cross my arms. “Tell me about her—or your relationship.”

I mean to phrase it as a request, but the words come out firm and harsh. I cringe at the sound of my voice.

“What do you want to know?” he asks.

“What happened to make her like that?”

There has to be something .

“I don’t know. She cheated on me —with my friend. That was the man you saw her with.”

“What?” I let out a choked laugh. “She had the gall to come here with him?”

“She was trying to help… I think.”

“There are better ways to help. Come on. That was deliberate—and evil.”

The wind blows. I push my hair out of my face—and his fingers twitch at his sides before relaxing.

“I don’t want to keep talking about her,” he says. “You helped. That’s all.”

“I tried. I would have done more if I knew the full story.”

“How much more are we talking?” He grins. “I can’t imagine you throwing fists.”

“Oh, nothing like that. I’m better at verbal sparring. The moment there’s a fist in the air, I’m gone.”

“Respectable.” He looks me up and down. It feels like he’s stripping me bare.

A shiver runs up my spine.

“Let me walk you to your car,” he says.

“Sure. It’s the least you can do.” I give him a cheeky smile.

Between the veil growing thinner and the adrenaline from the festival, the night is strange. Ozan and I getting along adds to the abnormality, too.

“I can’t believe you’re still driving your high school car,” he says.

“Why not?” I pat the hood of my old, rusty graduation gift. “It works. I take care of it. Regular maintenance means a car can last… well, not a lifetime, but a long time.”

“That’s a feat.” He tilts his head to the side. “Am I going to see you at the after-party?”

I’m drained from the long day, and I yearn to go home, shower, and hide in bed…

But it sounds like Ozan wants me there. Why does that make me want to go?

“Who’s throwing it this year?” I ask.

“Donnie. You can’t miss a Donnie party.”

“Then I guess I’ll be there.”

There’s a rich air between us. My heart thumps in my chest.

“Let’s go together,” he says.

I should say no. I should want to say no. But I don’t, and he doesn’t make it sound like a question. Ozan is sure of this. Why shouldn’t I be?

“Okay.” I drop my keys back into my purse. “You’re driving.”

I can’t believe I’m here with Ozan. It feels wrong to enter the party with him, and I know I’m not imagining things when heads turn to stare at us in the entryway. By this time tomorrow, they’ll be spreading rumors about us.

They won’t be true . I’m here so he can drive me home, and to have a drink or two. There’s no other reason.

Donnie and his husband throw the best parties in Starbrook. The others don’t bother trying to outshine them. The couple is especially known for their Christmas party, but their harvest party isn’t one you want to miss.

It’s not quite the Halloween party—that will be next week, and everyone will be dressed up.

This is more casual. Groups of people linger around their large home with glasses of spiked hot chocolate and warm cider. Soft music plays in the background.

“Juniper! Ozan!” Donnie calls our names as he weaves through the party. “Oh, it’s great to see you.”

Donnie is a tall, half-demon man. His outfits always match his purple, curling horns; tonight is no exception. He stands out in an otherwise casual party, and I know standing out is the intention. Donnie loves attention.

We’ve been acquaintances since high school—he was two years ahead of me. I can tell by how he looks at me that he’s surprised to see us together . Anyone from our school would be.

“Good to see you, too.” I smile politely. “You outdid yourself with this one.”

“You say that at every party.” Donnie chuckles and gives me a one-armed hug. “Get a drink, settle in, and find me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Ozan pats the demon on the back.

We’re silent until Donnie is out of earshot.

“He’s right,” I mutter, going to the drink table. “I need a drink.”

Ozan follows. Of course, he does. We came together.

There’s no denying that feeling his colossal form shadowing me makes me warm. His presence is protective, even if he doesn’t mean it to be.

I pour myself a cup of warm cider, and, to my surprise, he grabs an ice-cold bottle.

“What? You aren’t cold?” I lift a brow.

He shrugs. “I run hot.”

My gaze sweeps over his body without meaning to—to the scruff of hair on his face and the chest hair poking out of his V-neck shirt…

I swallow thickly. “Yeah. You seem like you do.”

He doesn’t ask what I mean—and I’m grateful because I have no idea. Who says that?

A lazy smile appears on his lips. “You run cold, don’t you?”

“I’m as cold as anyone else. I run average .”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“What makes you so sure? You don’t know anything about me.”

I expect Ozan to come up with a retort. It never comes. He looks over my head—easy to do, considering he towers over me.

“Ozan?” I tug at his shirt. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t look.” He turns his attention back to me. Panic registers in his round eyes. “It’s Vanessa.”

“Who?”

“My ex.”

“Oh.”

Oh…

Not only did I tear her a new one in hopes of defending his honor, but… she’s here. Great.

I know how this looks. It seems like we’re together , or at least that I have feelings for him. He doesn’t want to be seen with me. When you’re trying to impress your tall, hot, modelesque ex-wife, you don’t use me for the job.

No, I’m not another self-loathing fat woman. Ozan would be lucky to have me on his arm.

I don’t want to be used to make her jealous, thank you very much. Still, Vanessa and I cannot be compared, and that is a fact. We’re like day and night, and?—

“Can we kiss?” Ozan blurts out.

His words are jarring—not because the idea revolts me, but because they’re the opposite of what I expect to come from his mouth. He should step away from me or do something to make it clear we’re platonic.

Instead, he’s asking to kiss me. The drink in my hand shakes. My heart pounds.

“What?” I breathe.

“I want her to think I moved on. I know, it’s stupid?—”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Move on?” I step closer.

I don’t want to be used by anyone, for any reason, including making someone jealous. This is for me. I would love to make Vanessa’s blood boil. I think she deserves it, and if there’s one thing I enjoy, it’s dishing out justice.

“I’m trying to move on,” he says. “Her being here is…” He shakes his head.

Then, he hasn’t moved on. My stomach flips and sinks.

Ozan must really need my help.

“Good,” I say. “Keep trying.”

I grab a fistful of his shirt. When I pull him in, his eyes register surprise, but there’s no reluctance. His expression melts as he leans down to kiss me, bridging the foot of distance between us.

His beard grazes against my skin. It’s the first sensation I feel, and it’s not unpleasant, but it’s nothing compared to his soft lips on mine.

We’re hesitant at first. My eyes droop shut, and my head tilts to the side as our lips slot together.

The tension breaks. How long has it been building between us? I’ve ignored it since the potion incident, but it feels like it started before. It’s ancient, swirling, begging to break free since our souls were created.

His free hand moves to my waist, tugging me until I’m flush against him. He touches the small of my back, and his fingers dig in.

We can stop now. I don’t want to.

My lips part in a desperate invitation, and he accepts with equal fervor. Everyone is watching. I don’t care. Need rushes through me.

Finally, I’m living my fantasies. He’ll never know, but this is for me as much as it is for him. His tongue slips into my mouth, and a soft moan passes between us.

It may be his or mine. We meld into one.

The vibrating sound brings me back to reality. Back to where we are, and who I’m kissing—and why I should not, in a million years, feel warmth pooling between my legs. Not with him.

We pull away and look at each other with wide eyes.

“Th-thank you,” he says in a low voice.

“Do you think that was enough for her?” I ask.

His eyes darken, and heat blazes between us.

“No,” he says. “She needs more.”

OZAN

I don’t know if Vanessa is watching anymore, and I don’t care. There is no hesitation as Juniper and I explore each other’s mouths. This isn’t the sort of party where we should be doing this. We’ll be the talk of the town when tomorrow comes, but…

I’m not thinking straight. Kissing Juniper makes me dizzy.

The next kiss is as long as the last, and I don’t want it to end. I press a few gentle pecks to her lips. Each time I pull away, she’s chasing me for another one.

“I don’t think she’s watching,” I say, though I still don’t know.

I can’t bring myself to look or care. This isn’t for her anymore. It’s not just for me, either. A soft sound of regret and need comes from the back of Juniper’s pretty throat.

Even though I’ll regret it, I want to give her a chance to stop it before we go too far.

“Oh,” she breathes.

Her cheeks are pink when we pry away from each other.

I’m kissing Juniper. It’s not the first time—but it’s better than the last. So much better. We’re not foolish, bumbling teenagers now. She’s not my first kiss anymore. In a way, she always will be…

But it doesn’t feel like that now.

It feels like I need her. She said she wants me to move on but doesn’t realize how much she’s helping me do it. I’ve always been attracted to Juniper, but this is something else.

She looks up at me with wet, parted lips. Does she know how enticing she is?

I never wanted to open my heart again, but it feels inevitable now. She opened my chest and pulled out my desire. I can’t shove it back in.

If there’s a chance she wants me like I want her, I need to tell her.

“Do you think—” I start.

I never get to finish.

Laurel meanders over with a gigantic smile on her face and a big drink in her hand. “Hey, lovebirds.”

Juniper’s pink cheeks turn red. “It’s not like that!” she blurts.

I can’t even be offended. I don’t have any younger siblings, but I wouldn’t want them to know about my love life if I did.

Laurel leans on the wall. That’s the first giveaway that she’s drunk. The next is her lifting her cocktail to her lips and taking several moments to get the straw in her mouth.

She takes an unnecessarily long drink.

“Juniper was doing me a favor,” I say.

“Oh, I bet she was,” Laurel says. “Looks like you’re going to be doing a lot of favors later, if you know what I mean.”

I chuckle nervously. “I really don’t…”

Juniper shifts—it’s one I recognize. The fun, sweet, soft, kissable Juniper is gone. Her hands are on her hips, her eyes narrow, and I know she’s about to lecture someone.

On second thought, she’s equally kissable like this. I want to kiss the scowl right off her mouth.

For once, she won’t be lecturing me. I may enjoy this.

“Are you drunk?” Juniper asks.

Laurel shrugs. “It’s a party. Everyone is drinking; you’re drinking!”

“Laurel… ”

Laurel tears up before Juniper can begin her lecture. Her lower lip trembles.

“Don’t,” Laurel mumbles. She tries to set her cup down and knocks it over in the process. If the liquid spilling bothers her, she doesn’t let it show. “Don’t act like Mom. You’re not my mom.”

“I’m not—” Juniper shoots me an apologetic look. “Sorry. This was… fun… but I have to go deal with her.”

“Deal with me?” Laurel wails.

Juniper winces. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s fine,” I murmur. “I get it.”

This is a reminder of how much the Hawthornes are going through. From the outside, they are perfectly fine. They’re working together and focusing on their shop.

But they’re not okay. Why would they be? They lost their mother. Losing the head woman is a big deal in any family, but in a family of witches, it’s huge.

Laurel stumbles through the party but only takes a few steps before falling to the floor.

Juniper pulls away to follow her, but I touch her arm. She stops.

“You didn’t bring your car,” I say.

“I can drive Laurel’s.”

“No. Let me help you get her home.”

Juniper’s brows furrow. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Yes,” I say, “I do.”

Our eyes lock. Neither of us speaks for several moments. The only thing I hear is the Monster Mash playing in the background.

“Okay,” Juniper says, so low I nearly miss it. “If you’re sure.”

I am sure. Her other sisters are nowhere to be seen, and someone needs to help Juniper. This is another example of her trying to take care of everything alone.

For some reason, Laurel is more receptive to my suggestions than her sister’s. It takes both of us to keep her upright, but we get her in my truck with minimal fussing.

Hopefully, she doesn’t get sick in my backseat.

“You good back there?” I watch Laurel through the rearview mirror as I carefully drive through the streets.

Juniper sits beside me in the front; she hasn’t said anything since we started driving.

“Super good,” Laurel slurs, leaning against the window. “Do you know where my bed is?”

“It’s certainly not in this truck,” Juniper mutters.

“We’re almost home,” I say louder, hoping to overpower Juniper’s snarky answer.

Quick transportation is a small-town perk. The downfall is everything else—including the gossip that is sure to come. What will the townsfolk be more interested in: Laurel being drunk in public or Juniper and I?

It will be tough for them to pick which piece of gossip to focus on. Either way, the Hawthorne sisters are in for a frustrating week.

We park outside their home, and I help Laurel exit the backseat.

“I’m so excited for bed,” Laurel says.

The youngest Hawthorne would eat dirt if I didn’t help her down, but with my guiding hand, she manages to land on her feet. Juniper follows behind as I walk them to the front door. Laurel holds onto the wall, stumbling inside, and I reluctantly let her go.

“Come on in,” Laurel says.

With an open mouth, I turn to face Juniper. “I don’t have to?—”

“I know,” Juniper says. “But I want you to. Come.”

My heart races. Does Juniper want me…inside her home? I can hardly process her words. I’ve been visiting the family shop since I was a kid, but I’ve never visited their home. It feels sacred.

From the outside, it’s a large, cozy, red house. There’s a porch swing, wildflowers on the grass, and several interesting gnomes.

But gods, she sounds exhausted. We’re all tired after the long day, but no one sounds as worn down as Juniper.

Laurel takes her shoes off and kicks them in opposite directions before collapsing on the couch.

I stand near the doorway, unsure where Juniper wants me.

“Thank you for this,” Juniper whispers, stepping closer. “Laurel is going through a lot right now…”

“I know she is,” I say. “So are you.”

She blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” I should stop, but I can’t. “I see what you’re going through—all of you. But you? You’re going through it while taking care of everyone else. That’s a lot of pressure.”

She sighs slowly, and her eyes close. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

Touching Juniper is a one-way ticket to her swatting me away. I don’t bother with it. Something possesses me now. I touch her shoulder gently at first, and when she doesn’t shrug me off, I squeeze.

“It can’t be easy on you,” I say. “But you’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t…” Her voice breaks. “I don’t know if I am.”

This is the closest Juniper has come to breaking down in my presence. She’s still hanging on, but I want her to know she can let go. I’ll be there to catch her .

As a neighbor, of course. After a long night, I have to remind myself that’s all I am to her.

I slide my hand down her arm, my fingers brushing against her soft skin. When I’m at the bottom, she’s reaching for me. Her fingers interlace with mine. She squeezes hard—tight enough for me to feel the pressure but not enough to hurt.

I squeeze back.

“You will be okay,” I say.

Her eyes flicker open, and she meets my gaze with more softness than I would ever expect. “How do you know?”

“Because I know you. I see you.”

“I don’t want to be seen.”

“Too bad.”

Her lips part again, and her hand is still in mine. She could let go, but she doesn’t. I could too, but I won’t.

I know I can lean in and kiss her—and I want to—but I won’t do that either. Not right now. It’s not what she needs.

The night has me feeling bold. I take another risk, brushing my lips against her forehead instead.

She lets out a soft, sweet gasp.

“Get some rest,” I murmur. “Everything will be clearer in the morning.”