Page 7 of Bewitched & Bewildered (Witches of Starbrook #1)

Chapter 7

Ozan

“You’re back?” I can’t hide my surprise.

Juniper returns an hour before closing, with someone following closely behind. It’s one of her sisters. The inch of ginger roots sprouting from her green hair makes it apparent. I still remember Juniper for her red hair, but her dark hair is as striking. She fixes me with a death glare, and I melt into a puddle.

I don’t know which sister this is. It’s definitely not Maple, the only other sister I’m familiar with, and…I don’t care who it is.

My eyes are stuck on Juniper. She was already here a few hours ago. Why the hell is she back? It seems like she’s making a pastime of tormenting me.

“Yes,” Juniper says in a tight voice. She exchanges a look with her sister. “I’m back.”

“You were here earlier?” the younger woman asks. She’s trying to whisper, but she’s loud enough for me to hear.

“Just for a moment,” Juniper says.

I move out from behind the counter. A few other witches browse the shop, my cat prowls around, and the bun is safely upstairs. Aiyla doesn’t like crowds.

“What can I help you with?” I linger near the pair.

The younger one looks me up and down. A slow smile appears on her face. It’s as if she’s noticing me for the first time.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Do you own this place?”

“Yes…” I chuckle nervously.

Where is she going with this? It should be evident that I’m the owner. Hasn’t Juniper told her about me? My eyes drift to Juniper, and I tilt my head to the side, begging her to answer a silent question.

What is going on here?

“Wow,” the stranger says. “You have got to be the hottest shop owner I’ve ever seen.”

My eyes widen. That’s not what I was expecting. This Hawthorne seems to handle things differently from her sister.

“Laurel!” Juniper hisses. For once, her glare is pointed at someone else. “Be professional.”

“It’s fine.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Let me know if I can help you guys with anything—any supplies, I mean, not?—”

“We get it,” Juniper says.

“Cool.” I turn away, desperate to avoid the younger Hawthorne. “I’ll just…”

Juniper’s voice makes me freeze. “Actually…we have a few questions for you.”

I wheel back around. “Oh?”

Juniper nods. “We were wondering how much you charge for, say, a tarot deck.”

Last I knew, Juniper was planning on reopening her family shop. I can’t imagine why she’s interested in one of my decks, but I’m curious. I’ll bite.

“That would depend on the deck,” I say. “Come on.”

I have an impressive collection of cards. Some I brought from Boston, and others are from local artists. We stop in front of the display, and I gesture vaguely.

“The traditional one,” I say, “goes for twenty bucks. But if you want this hand-painted… that’ll be closer to fifty.”

“This one is gorgeous.” Laurel gasps, brushing her fingers against the gold-foiled letters on the box.

Juniper swats her hands away. “We have better decks at home.”

“I guess…” Laurel frowns. She doesn’t seem so sure.

Juniper hesitates before turning away from the decks. Her eyes wander to the stack of bundled herbs—rosemary, lavender, and more. “What about the bundles?”

“Five bucks,” I say. “For any of them.”

“You go with a flat-rate price?” Juniper asks.

“It’s easier that way,” I say.

My suspicion grows by the moment, but I continue playing her game.

“And your crystals?” Juniper asks. “Let’s say, a generic clear quartz.”

I click my tongue. “That depends on the size. You know that.”

Juniper is playing dumb—and the more questions she asks, the more I think she’s not here to shop. I lead her to the crystals anyway, picking up a massive slab of quartz.

“This thing?” I hold it up to the light. “This will go for sixty dollars. But if you want a little point—that will only run a few bucks.”

“I’d like a breakdown of your price by weight,” Juniper says .

I squint.

“Please,” her sister adds.

I set the quartz down and cross my arms. “You’re not here as customers, are you?”

“No.” Juniper lifts her head higher. “You cannot truly think we would shop here.”

“Actually,” Laurel says, “I’m coming back for the deck. You can’t stop me.”

Juniper glares at her.

“I’ll give you a discount,” I tell Laurel, grinning. Anything to get under Juniper’s skin.

It works. Her face is red when she looks at me again.

I lift my hands, feigning innocence. “What?”

“You know what!” Juniper snaps.

“You’re in my shop,” I say.

“Yeah,” Laurel says, “I don’t think you should talk to him like that. How would you feel if someone came into our shop like this?”

I snicker.

“I’m leaving!” Juniper announces, marching away.

“Wait!” I call.

She pauses. Both witches look at me.

“I’ll give you a breakdown of my prices,” I say. “Free of charge.”

Juniper turns back around with narrowed eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you need help,” I say, “and Starbrook has never been about competition. Why would it be now?”

I know why. It has nothing to do with the town and everything to do with Juniper and me. We’ll never be close enough to be coven mates or even friends. Hell, I don’t think she considers me an acquaintance .

It doesn’t matter. I’m still going to help her out when I can.

And I do, even though I know it’s silly to put so much effort into someone who doesn’t like me. I send them away with a printout of my prices. It does nothing to lift Juniper’s spirits. There’s still a scowl on her face when she leaves.

JUNIPER

“You need to tell me who that fine specimen is right now,” Laurel hisses.

“He’s no one. Drop it.”

We got what we came for, but I don’t feel successful on the way out. I pass the papers to Laurel, not wanting to think about them. His prices are higher than Mom’s. That means we can raise ours without suffering too badly, but…

I can’t believe I’m competing with Ozan again—and he’s winning! People were in his shop until the last minute. How? I bet he’s not even doing online marketing.

I guess that’s one thing we can do better than him.

This feels too much like when we were young, always neck-in-neck with our studies, and the class president debates, and …there’s a lot more, but who cares?

I’m an adult now. He shouldn’t be able to rattle me like this.

“That was definitely someone,” she says. “A whole lot of someone, if you know what I mean.”

“Laurel!”

“You can’t lie to me. ”

“Fine.” My jaw tenses. “He’s someone I knew in high school. Is that the answer you’re looking for?”

“Ah… I see.” Her smile is full of mirth. “I know who he is. You don’t have to tell me.”

I groan and open my car door. “Then why are you asking me silly questions?”

“Because he’s the one from the reading!”

I stare at her with wide eyes until she disappears into the car. I scurry to get inside. “He is not.”

“Oh, yes, he is!”

“That man is the bane of my existence. He may be returning from the past, but it’s not in a-a-a… not in a six of cups way.”

“But you admit you have history.”

“Yes, but?—”

“The cards never lie.”

“They do,” I say. “That’s one of Mom’s first lessons. We can interpret things wrong, or the timing can be incorrect, or?—”

“Fine. Witches can make mistakes. That’s true. This isn’t one of those times. Mark my words. That man is the six of cups.”

“No. That’s impossible. You don’t understand?—”

“He gave you those flowers, didn’t he? That’s the most literal depiction of the six of cups.”

“Enough!” I lift a hand. “I’m setting a boundary. We are not talking about Ozan anymore.”

“Is that his name?” She gasps. “Ozan! Oh, I am totally doing a wax-scrying spell tonight.”

“You had better not. I don’t consent.”

“But Juniper! Wax scrying for your future spouse is so romantic.”

Thinking about Ozan being my future spouse makes me sick to my stomach.

“No. No way,” I say. “I’m not dating right now—and if I were, I would not be dating him .”

I once thought love was for me—before countless breakups, being ghosted on dating apps, and…gods. It’s certainly not for me now. It can’t be. I have a shop to run and sisters to care for.

It’s the same reason Mom never dated after our father left, and it’s the rule I’m sticking to.

“Fine.” Laurel pouts. “I won’t do anything without your permission, but…”

“There are no buts.”

“There is. Fate doesn’t fuck around.” While the words are crass, there’s something wise about how she says them. “You can try to avoid him, but if he’s the one my cards showed me… it’s inevitable.”

She can say whatever she wants.

Laurel is mistaken. The cards may not be, but she is. If the gods send me the gift of love—and I doubt they will—it must be in a different package.

Ozan is a lovely package from the outside. He’s tall and rugged, and he can grow an impressive beard…

His personality is what ruins it.

“I guess we’ll see.” I’ll say anything to make her drop the conversation.