Page 6 of Charmed, I’m Sure (Witches of Bellevue #1)

Libated minds make for liberated ideas

Magnolia

A week had passed since the incident at the bar and, thankfully, had remained Taylor free.

I hadn’t bumped into him in town. I hadn’t seen him enter the shop, but Jae said he’d dropped by to pick up his order while I was out.

It was good. A welcome reprieve after seeing him three times in one day.

So why did I expect to see him standing there every time the bell over the door chimed?

And why was it that I was slightly disappointed when he wasn’t?

Hormones. That had to be it. It was that time in my cycle.

The one that makes you all boy and sex crazy because your baby box is insisting that you give it an inhabitant.

That was the only explanation for why my sex-deprived brain was latching onto the man who waltzed back into town like he hadn’t made my life a living nightmare throughout high school.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that assholes like him never got hit with the ugly stick.

It had nothing to do with his chiseled jaw or the stubble that looked to be just past the prickly stage that hurt when you kissed someone, but like it would be soft beneath my fingers instead.

Certainly had nothing to do with those deep blue eyes that seemed to sink into my soul…

Son of a bitch, Mags. Pull yourself together.

I shook my head and took a deep breath. I needed to focus. The first “Meat-Cute” mixer was tonight, and I needed it to go off without a hitch.

It had been a random idea I’d had during a girls' night with Jae, my aunt, and my sisters. We were all complaining about how hard it was to meet new people in this tiny town we called home, and well…libated minds make for liberated ideas, I guess. I’d thrown out the idea of hosting a mixer for singles.

A safe space where people could mingle, meet others, and potentially find someone they connected with.

We’d talked for hours about the logistics, but the conversation that had us all almost peeing in our pants was the one over the name.

“Just call it the CharCutie Mixer,” Maddie suggested as she took a sip from her White Russian daiquiri.

“Ughhh, that’s boring,” Jae chimed in from her position on the couch, hanging upside down.

Names like Singles Mingle and Flirty Fridays had been tossed around as well, but Aunt Evie’s idea won. “How about Meat-Cute… ya know… because meet-cutes are in romantic comedies… but spell it M-E-A-T because you sell charcuterie boards. Get it? Y’all get it, right?”

Silence had descended as we all looked at one another before peals of laughter filled the house once more. We all fell in love with the idea after that, and when it didn’t go away once the alcohol wore off, I decided to give it a shot.

The plan was to set it up like speed dating—only I’d never been speed dating, so I was winging it.

We’d give each person a card with three slots to write down the names of the people they clicked with throughout the night.

Then, the girls and I would play matchmaker, and anyone who matched would get the other person’s information.

It was a completely private event. Everyone attending had to sign up and pay a cover charge to help offset the cost of food and drinks that CharCutie was supplying.

And it had blown up like gangbusters. We’d actually had to turn off the sign-up form because we were creeping on max capacity for my space.

And it wasn’t just people from Bellevue or the surrounding towns.

People had signed up from Baton Rouge and New Orleans, too.

As I scrolled through the guest list one more time, making sure we weren’t over capacity, my to-do list ran through my mind like a hamster on one of those little wheels.

It was simple, really. All I had to do was make a bunch of charcuterie boards—both savory and sweet—clean the entire shop, set up the high-top tables, make sure that the wine and alcohol in the cooler were actually in the cooler, double-check that my liquor license was displayed… and on and on and on.

My list was never-ending and seemed to grow by the minute. Why had I decided that this was a good idea? I was an introverted extrovert. I was happy and free with people I knew but put me in a room full of strangers, and my social battery depleted faster than a hot knife could slice through butter.

The sound of the back door opening pulled me from my mental spiral, and I turned toward the kitchen as Jae poked her head out. “Hey, boss lady, where do you want these tables set up? The guys from the rental place offered to carry them in for us.”

Oh, blessed Mother, thank you.

“Umm, just have the guys bring them in here. Once we figure everything out, we can shimmy them into place.”

“You got it, boss!” she hollered, giving me a mock salute before turning back toward the exit.

I took a few deep breaths and pulled my crystal locket from beneath my shirt.

The simple silver cage held a small rose quartz stone.

It was meant to relieve stress and anxiety, and as I clutched it in my palm, it did just that.

The negative energy surrounding my mental space seeped away as positive energy flowed in.

It hadn’t taken long for the guys to set up the high-top tables; they’d even stuck around to move them into place for us. Although I’m pretty sure it had more to do with Jae’s sultry smile than the tip I’d slipped into each of their palms before they left.

Jae took off shortly after they did, and I sighed in relief as I looked around my little shop.

The tables were all covered in white tablecloths, with small pink rose arrangements gracing each center.

I’d already spelled the lights to dim, giving the space a more intimate feel.

My Spotify “Party Playlist” was cued up and ready to go, and even with nerves prickling against my skin, I was excited.

Glancing down at my phone to check the time, I blew out a relieved breath.

Four-thirty. The event was set to start at six, so I had just enough time to get home and change before I had to be back to set out the charcuterie boards and drinks.

Taking one last look around, a small smile pulled across my lips.

Perfect. It was perfect.

It was absolutely, one hundred percent, not perfect.

“How in the hell did he even get in?!” I whisper-yelled at Maddie, who was helping me put together another dessert board in the kitchen.

The Meat-Cute was going off without a hitch.

People were laughing and taking pictures in front of the photo wall.

My phone had been blowing up nonstop with all of the tags on Instagram, and I couldn’t share them fast enough.

I’d even booked CharCutie to cater at least three parties in November and one in December.

It was amazing, and I couldn’t have asked for it to go any better…

at least until Taylor waltzed in. I hadn’t seen him in a week.

Why was he always around at inconvenient times?

“I don’t know, Mags. I didn’t see his name on the list the last time I checked, but it must be there if Mer let him in.”

Meredith, my baby sister and bouncer for the night.

She was five-foot-five-inches of unicorns and sparkles most days, with gorgeous blonde hair that many women would pay an arm and a leg for at the salon and killer blue eyes that brought men to their knees.

But if someone got on her bad side? They would have been better off poking a hornet’s nest.

Unfortunately, between her classes at the university in Baton Rouge and her job, she could only come home a few times a month. And I had been beyond grateful to see her little baby-blue VW Beetle in the driveway when I’d gone home earlier.

“What? Like, I’d miss seeing all of the cute guys and gals coming here tonight? In your dreams, Mags,” she’d said as she hugged me hello.

“What do you want to do about it?” Maddie’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back into the present.

Groaning, I looked back over my shoulder. There wasn’t much I could do if he’d actually paid to be here. “Nothing, I guess. Plus, he’s here now. Throwing him out would cause a scene.”

Maddie nodded, but a small smile tugged at one corner of her lips.

“What?” I asked, my eyes narrowing as her lips curled inward.

“Nothing… just that, well… at least now we know he’s single.”

“Madison!” I admonished through a whisper, tossing a strawberry top I’d just cut off at her.

She chuckled and used a wisp of her magic to deflect it into the trash can at her side. “I’m just saying it’s a good tidbit of information to hold on to, that’s all. I mean, Mags. You have to admit. He’s not bad to look at.”

Her eyes flicked up behind me, and though everything in me told me not to, I turned around.

Good god. It wasn’t fair, really it wasn’t.

Taylor was a walking wet dream, and it pissed me off.

He was in dark wash jeans that looked like they had been painted onto his body, hugging his thighs like they were holding on for dear life.

The sleeves of his sky-blue button-down were rolled to his elbows, which did him far too many favors.

It made his sapphire blue eyes take on a lighter, brighter hue…

not that I noticed. And I never did understand why forearms were sexy, but his most definitely were…

fine. They were fine. His dark chocolate hair was neatly mussed, and he was wearing his godforsaken glasses. Why were men in glasses hot?

Fuck. Me.

“Earth to Magnolia…” Maddie’s voice trickled into my mind, and when I turned back toward her, I wanted to wipe the smug look off her face. “See something you like, sis?”

“Fuck off. So he’s good-looking, so what?”

Maddie’s face paled slightly as she curled her lips inward and glanced back toward her board.

“Wha—”

“Who’s good-looking?” A deep timbre sounded behind me, cutting through my question and sending a chill down my spine.

Mother above—of course, he’s standing behind me.

Grabbing my piping bag, I picked up where I’d left off and began swirling lines of ivory buttercream around the board. “Oh, loads of people,” I said, not bothering to turn in his direction.

Maddie nodded emphatically, fighting the smile threatening to stretch across her face. “Mm-hmm… like Tom Hiddleston and Ryan Reynolds.”

“Or Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki from Supernatural, they’re pretty hot, too,” I added. Aunt Evie and I were binge-watching it, and as much as I loved that show, I was beyond grateful that the supernatural part of my life was nothing like theirs.

“Oooh, what about Misha Collins? Isn’t he the guy who plays Castiel?” Maddie said as she snickered and waggled her brows at me.

I mentioned it one time. One. That Taylor looked kind-a, sort-a—if you squinted and tilted your head just right—like Misha Collins, and she just had to bring it up in front of him.

“Oh?”

Taylor’s voice was closer now, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Piping bag still in hand, I turned toward him. “What do you mean, ‘oh’?”

“Nothing. Just didn’t realize you went for older guys, that’s all.”

His grin was far too smug, and my grip on the frosting bag was far too tight as it slowly started slipping through the tip. I placed the bag down on the counter before I ended up painting his face in buttercream and crossed my arms. “Is there a reason you’re in my kitchen?”

Maddie snickered behind me, then slipped back into the mixer, having finished both of our boards.

Taylor took a step closer, but I refused to give an inch.

This was my space. My business. There was no way I was going to let him dominate it.

It didn’t matter that he was a good four or five inches taller than me, and I had to crane my neck to look him in the eyes.

“You’re in here.”

“Yes, well. It’s my kitchen.”

“So you’ve said… twice now.”

The absolute gall of this man. Fisting my hand around my pendant, I took a deep breath. “Taylor, do I need to teach you manners like I taught Kyle?”

He flinched, actually flinched at my words, and a small part of me wanted to apologize. But then I remembered that he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t done anything—then or ever—and that small part died as quickly as it bloomed.

“Magnolia, about that—”

“Taylor, I don’t want to hear it. I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.” I patted his chest and skirted around him. I hadn’t even reached the threshold before his hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me to a stop. When I met his gaze, guilt filled those ocean blues.

“I know, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

My brain slowed to a crawl at his words. Sorry? Did Taylor Hallows just apologize to me? That certainly wasn’t on my Bingo card for this year. Not sure where to go from there, I forced my head to bob, pulled my hand from his grasp, and disappeared into the crowd.

I felt his eyes on me the rest of the night.

Felt them burning holes into my back while I talked to the guys at the party.

Felt them searing into me as I stood behind the counter or went into the kitchen.

He stayed the whole time, but he didn’t seem to really be interested in chatting with the women who were there.

Which begged the question, why? Why was he there if it wasn’t to meet someone? Was it just to bother me?

Shaking the notion free from my mind, I focused on the smiling faces in front of me. But I also couldn’t help but notice when he slipped out the door.