Page 7 of Bewitched By the Siren (The Bewitching Hour #1)
CHAPTER SEVEN
Brendan
Walking into the kitchen, I grab a protein bar to tide me over until dinner.
Hopefully, Hali will agree to accompany me to a grocery store when our tour is over so I can grab some real food to stock the pantry and refrigerator.
And with her there, I’ll be able to pick her brain and find out what kind of food she likes.
Cooking dinner for her would definitely earn me a few brownie points, right? That is, if I can get her to agree to come over one night this week so I can cook for her.
I finish the bar in a few bites and brush my teeth before stepping back out onto the front porch to enjoy the salty breeze and the calming sound of the waves until Hali comes to get me for our tour.
It really is serene and beautiful here. Los Angeles has some amazing beaches, of course, but there’s something different about the vibe on Circe Key.
Life feels slower. More relaxed. Like a person could really unwind and recharge here.
A few minutes later, I hear Hali’s front door click open and watch as she steps through it. I hop up as her gaze turns in my direction. She doesn’t smile, exactly, but she doesn’t frown either as we both take the steps down from our respective porches to meet in the middle.
“Were you afraid I was going to sneak out without you?” she asks, nodding toward my abandoned chair on the porch.
“I wasn’t stalking you. Scout’s honor,” I say with a smirk, holding up my right hand with the three middles fingers extended.
Hali hums in disbelief, but her eyes are actually filled with humor. For once. Excitement blooms in my chest as I meet her sparkling gaze. Sure, it’s a tiny, little step, but a step in the right direction, nonetheless.
“Seriously,” I say, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly. “I just love it out here. The view, the wind, the crash of the waves… It’s amazing.”
Her expression softens as she looks between our houses toward the ocean. “I know what you mean, and I couldn’t agree more.”
She turns toward town and starts to walk, asking, “Do you have a place on the beach back in L.A.?”
I fall into step beside her with a laugh. “I wish, but no. While I make a decent living, I don’t really make enough money to afford oceanfront property in Southern California.”
“That’s too bad,” she says in an honestly sympathetic tone. “I would never want to live anywhere but here with the beach right outside my door.”
I choose to ignore the statement, yet another reminder that she has no intention of signing a record deal that would take her away from this place.
I don’t want to push the issue or do anything else that will make her end this tour before it’s even begun.
I can ease into that another time. Right now, I just want to get to know her, a little bit. Let her get to know me .
We get to the strip of road that makes up downtown Circe Key, and Hali points out the sights as we pass them.
The Circe Key Grille , which she assures me has great food, has a patio on the roof where diners can see the ocean and feel the breeze while they eat.
Memaw’s Bar ––which I’ve already seen, obviously––is at the other end of the strip of businesses.
A couple of souvenir shops, a soda-slash-ice-cream parlor, and a boutique sit between the two larger businesses.
A bike rental stand, a burger joint, and a gas station sit directly across the street.
Down at the end on the beach side is the Sea Turtle Center, and when she points it out, I ask if we can go inside.
She goes rigid, then shakes her head. “It’s closed to the public on Sundays. And you can’t just buy a ticket and go in like a regular aquarium. You have to reserve a tour slot, and they’re only offered Tuesday through Saturday.”
I’m disappointed. Sea turtles are awesome. I make a mental note to schedule a tour later in the week, even if Hali refuses to join me.
“Is there a grocery store around here?” I ask as we amble on.
She nods and heads left, taking a side street to the next block.
It’s obviously less tourist-friendly over here, the area filled with warehouses, auto repair shops, and the like.
Hali leads me to the grocery store on the corner, and I’m pleased when she doesn’t try to ditch me here and go on about her day.
She walks beside me as I roll a cart up and down the aisles, grabbing a few necessary things for the beach house.
“What are some of your favorite foods?” I ask, pretending like the question is off-hand while I reach for a box of cereal.
She seems more comfortable than before, like doing something so mundane as grocery shopping has softened her defenses.
“The usual, you know,” she says with a shrug. “Burgers. Pizza. Steak. Fish.”
“Have you ever had Baja-style fish tacos?” I ask, latching onto that last one because fish tacos are definitely my specialty.
“I don’t think so,” she says slowly, her brow furrowing like she’s trying to recall if she’s actually had the meal before.
“Oh, you’d know if you had,” I say, then give her a firm nod. “That’s it. I’m making them for you. I mean…will you please join me for dinner tonight?”
She looks like a deer in the headlights, her back stiff and her eyes wide, but as a few seconds tick by, she slowly relaxes. She gives me a single, unsure nod, and I feel like I just won the God damn lottery. I don’t want to scare her off, though, so I tamp down the excitement.
“Great. Let’s go see if the seafood department has any decent halibut.”
We find some good filets, and though the beach house came stocked with a decent spice cabinet, I buy everything I’ll need, just in case.
Chili powder, cumin, garlic powder, smoked paprika, and a few other things find their way into the cart, as well as some limes, sour cream, mayonnaise, and sriracha sauce.
Hali goes off in search or tortillas while I stroll through the produce department, picking out avocados, cabbage, and cilantro.
When she gets back, and I approve of her selection, we grab the cotija cheese and a six-pack of Mexican beer before making our way to the check-out line.
After we pay, I look at the bags before turning to Hali. “Should I order an Uber? I didn’t expect to have this many grocery bags to carry.”
“We don’t have that here,” she says with a laugh, then starts gathering up half the bags. “We have one taxi, but old George will charge you twenty bucks to drive you four blocks.”
I reach in and pick up the heaviest bags before she can attempt to grab them. If we’re carrying these all the way home, I’m doing most of the work. Besides it being the gentlemanly thing to do, Hali didn’t sign up for this when she agreed to show me around.
“Thanks for the help,” I say as we leave the store.
She shrugs. “You’re cooking dinner for me. We can call it even.”
“Even, it is,” I say with a grin, and she smiles back at me, making my stomach flutter in a way it hasn’t since…I don’t know when.
It’s happening. We’re getting to know each other, and soon, she’ll see that I’m on the up-and-up. That I only want to help her. That she can trust me.
This little tour was the start, and tonight’s dinner will get the wheels rolling even faster. Hali Weston will sign with me by the end of the week, and she’ll let me film her for Julius this weekend.
Things are changing. I can feel it.
And I’m so freaking stoked.