Page 2 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)

Dear Maria, count me out.

Magnolia

Present Day…

Oh, fuck me .

Sophie Larson was practically skipping toward me as I slipped the key into the door of CharCutie, dragging some poor soul behind her.

The sun was bright behind their heads as they made their way down the sidewalk, so I couldn’t see his face, but good gravy, that man was tall.

Towering a good foot over Sophie’s head with a seemingly good head of hair and well-toned legs that went on for days, there was no way he didn’t have a face to match.

But it was the tightness in his broad shoulders that pulled my focus.

Poor guy looked more anxious than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, probably desperate to be rescued from little Miss Shrill.

“Maggie!” The excitement in her voice grated against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard as she hollered my name again.

Groaning, I finished unlocking the door and turned toward her, a manufactured smile plastered on my face.

I couldn’t stand the woman. She was the head cheerleader in high school and had made it her sole mission in life to make me feel the size of an ant—something that hadn’t changed after high school either.

I silently thanked the Mother as a cloud rolled in front of the bright sun, then promptly retracted it and cursed her instead as my lady boner shriveled up and died.

Taylor mother-fucking Hallows. The bane of my existence in high school and my sworn enemy—not that he knew that.

I was pretty sure he didn’t remember me or the torment he and his cronies put me through during their final year at Bellevue High.

“Maggie, you remember Taylor Hallows from Bellevue High, don’t you?” Sophie beamed at him like he was the fat, prized pig that had won the blue ribbon at the fair. Pig? Yes. Fat? Pretty sure his body had never heard the word.

Squinting, I canted my head to the right, pretending to give a shit. “Can’t say that I do.”

As the words left my lips, Taylor’s gaze lazily perused down my body before settling back on my face. A small smirk tugged at his lips as he extended his hand. “Taylor Hallows, pleasure to meet you.”

My eyes flicked from his face to his outstretched hand, then back again, before I slipped mine into his. “Magnolia Bellevue, the pleasure is all yours.”

His smirk grew a fraction, but he didn’t release my hand. “I believe you mean, ‘the pleasure is all mine,’ Ms. Bellevue.”

He practically purred the words, and it took a great deal of effort not to roll my eyes. Instead, a sickly sweet, Southern-belle, bless your heart smile spread across my face as I stared him straight in the eyes. “That’s what I said, Mr. Hallows. The pleasure is all yours.”

Sliding my hand from his, I pulled open the door to my little shop and stepped inside, leaving Sophie standing there with her mouth gaping open like a big-mouth bass, and Taylor looking like he was still trying to figure out what had just happened.

The cool air of CharCutie kissed my cheeks—thank god for air conditioning, since Louisiana still hadn’t gotten the memo that it was supposed to be fall.

I flipped the switch by the door, sending the fluorescents flickering to life.

After pulling my phone from my back pocket and connecting it to the sound system, I scrolled through my Spotify playlists, deciding what kind of vibe I wanted today.

I listened to a little bit of everything, from Kelsea Ballerini and Luke Combs to Queen and ELO, or Paramore and MCR.

After the encounter I’d just had outside, it was definitely a Paramore kind of day.

The Mother—or maybe it was just irony—had a sense of humor, as Ignorance by Paramore filtered through the speakers.

It was early, and with the blinds still down on the front windows, I sent tendrils of magic throughout the space, flipping the switches in the display cases and turning on the large neon sign that read Cheese!

which hung on a wall of fake greenery in the “photo-op corner” at the front.

I had just finished starting up the POS system when Jaelyn, my best friend and only employee, walked in from the back.

CharCutie was technically owned by me and my sisters, but they let me run it however I wanted, and they pitched in when I needed help… or when they were bored.

“Morning, bestie!” she trilled as she plopped her slouchy bag on the counter.

“Morning, sunshine.” My tone was light, but there was an edge to it that she could’ve picked up all the way in Georgia.

Jaelyn narrowed her caramel-colored eyes, tilting her head slightly before her expression shifted, her lips pursing as she nodded. “Rough morning? Or is this just the vibe for today?” she asked, gesturing to my outfit.

Like my music, my outfits reflected my mood. Today it was black cutoff shorts—despite the fact that it was October—a cropped tee that read Caffeinated, but dead inside, and my Jadon Dr. Martens.

“It’s just today’s vibe.”

Her dark brows shot up to her hairline, her expression saying she wasn’t buying anything I was selling.

“Okay, fine. It started as a vibe… then slowly became a mood.”

“Oh?” she asked, pulling her phone from her bag. “What happened? It’s not even ten a.m.”

Rolling my eyes, I huffed my way into the back of the shop, Jae following to help with opening duties. “I ran into Taylor forking Hallows this morning. Well, more like had his unwelcome presence thrust upon me by none other than Sophie Larson herself.”

When the swish of her maxi skirt stilled behind me, I turned, finding her rooted to the spot, her eyes the size of a cheese wheel. “I’m sorry… you ran into who? What in the fuck is that douche canoe doing back in town? I thought he left to go do… fuck if I know. I just know he wasn’t here anymore.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up my throat at Jaelyn’s outburst. She’d been there for me through the thick of Taylor’s torment in high school.

Whether it was them knocking my books out of my hands, the endless jokes about my clothes, or his cronies following me around making Chewbacca noises because I didn’t shave my arms, Jae had been there through it all.

She even tried to convince me to get Aunt Evie to hex him after his group “accidentally” spilled coffee all over my pale blue dress before an awards ceremony, staining it muddy brown.

It was meant as a joke, but since my aunt was the town “witch,” I knew she actually could…

and I’d even considered it for a brief moment.

“I don’t know why he’s here, or why Sophie felt the need to let me know, but seeing his smug mug was not how I intended to start my day,” I said, pulling out a stack of orders for the day.

CharCutie was my baby. After going to community college in Baton Rouge for two years and realizing college wasn’t for me, I traded the campus for a kitchen, enrolling in the Louisiana Culinary Institute.

Sixteen months later, I graduated with an Associate’s in Baking and Pastry, moved back to Bellevue, and started CharCutie from Aunt Evie’s kitchen.

Meshing my love for aesthetics, culinary pairings, and bite-sized foods, I created a charcuterie board business.

Like most small businesses, the first year was slow, but it ever so gradually picked up—especially after I added dessert boards to the lineup.

Who knew swirls of buttercream, chocolate, pastries, and fruit would be what put me on the map?

Three years later, with help from my sisters, I opened my own brick-and-mortar shop, taking orders daily for personal and party-sized platters.

After splitting the orders between morning and afternoon pickups, I started pulling ingredients from the walk-in cooler while Jae assembled the boxes.

An easy quiet settled around us as Dog Days Are Over by Florence + the Machine filled the speakers.

Soon enough, we were both singing along, albeit horribly off-key, and dancing around the kitchen.

Was it the most efficient way to prepare orders?

Probably not. But it was fun and lifted my mood instantly.

That was, until the bell chimed over the door, and I turned to find none other than Taylor Hallows standing in my shop.

Taylor

The bell over the door of CharCutie chimed as I pushed it open.

Sophie had explained that it was a charcuterie board shop as well as a bakery, and I had to admit the “cutie” part of the name threw me for a loop.

But standing inside, it made sense. It looked like a 1950s diner, with black-and-white checkered tiles on the floor.

Every wall was bright pink and covered in vintage signs—except for the one behind the counter, which was robin’s-egg blue and filled with black-and-white photos of Bellevue throughout the years.

There was also a greenery wall with a neon sign that read Cheese!

Cute.

I was just about to take a step toward the glittery teal vinyl booths that lined the far wall when Magnolia turned. The smile on her face faltered before she pulled it back into place and stepped out of the kitchen, her hands tucked securely in her back pockets.

“We’re not open yet.”

God, this woman. I’m pretty sure she intended for the smile on her face to look friendly, but the bite in her tone said otherwise.

“You should probably keep the door locked then, huh?” I smiled. She bristled.

Her eyes narrowed as she took me in, and I had to keep from laughing when I’d Do Anything by Simple Plan came over the speakers. At least I knew she had good taste in music, unlike most of this town.

A smile tugged at her lips, but it was so sickly sweet it made my teeth hurt. “Is there something I can do for you… sorry, what was your name again?”