Page 38 of How to Flirt with a Witch

“H-hi,” the girl stammers, a hand shooting up to smooth her curls. “Welcome.”

The guy wears the same starstruck expression. “Our—um—New Year sale is on now.”

Natalie nods politely. “Thank you.”

I smile at the floor. Good to know I’m not the only one who forgets how to use words around her.

We start at a section of dishes. I scan them, waiting for that sense of anticipation to overcome me like before. But nothing remotely close happens, especially not with Natalie at my side. My pulse is racing for an entirely different reason, a warm, exhilarating rush tingling through my body.

Focus. We’re here to prove my ability.

“Did you celebrate the holidays?” I ask, hoping it’s okay to talk about other things while I search.

She nods. “My sister and I went to a Christmas thing with some friends.”

“That’s nice.” Interesting she didn’t mention parents. “Just the two of you?”

“My dad’s in Turkey right now. He travels a lot.”

No mention of her mom. I don’t pry.

Nothing in the dishes section catches my attention, so we move on to lamps and furniture. I freeze as a chill sweeps over me—only to realize I’m standing under a vent.Dammit.

I keep moving, studying an oil painting of a meadow.

“How old is your sister?” I ask.

She paces half a step behind, hands in pockets, as if to avoid distracting me. “Eighteen. Three years younger.”

“Same age as me,” I say. “That makes you twenty-one, which is definitely too young to have a doctorate.”

Her mouth tightens as if she’s fighting a smile. “Not necessarily.”

“Does your sister also do what you do?”

“No. I mean, it’s a similar line of work, but no.” Before I can ask her to elaborate, she says, “Did you have a good Christmas with your family?”

“I did.”

“That jacket looks nice on you.”

The compliment makes me want to skip, but I stay calm. “Thanks.”

“Tell me about your holiday traditions.”

It’s a specific, pointed request. Maybe she and her sister don’t have much in the way of traditions.

I meander through the furniture, grazing my fingers along the wood and upholstery in the hopes that touching a curse will help me sense it. “We have a feast on Christmas Eve, usually a roast and lumpia—they’re like spring rolls. We open one present each, which is always pajamas. In the morning, we do the whole stocking and tree thing, and my dad makes crepes. We ordinarily have another feast with my extended family in the evening, but this year, we went to a restaurant since it was just us.”

She watches me closely, hanging on each word. “Sounds perfect,” she murmurs.

I nod. “Holidays have always been fun… ever since we were little kids staying up late in our unicorn nightgowns, watching for Santa’s sleigh out the living room window. Our poor parents had to put up with a lot of screaming.”

When I meet her eye, she’s smiling. It catches me off-guard, tingling all the way to my toes. It’s the first time I’ve seen a real smile on her—and it’s as stunning as the rest of her. It crinkles her eyes and dimples her cheeks, brightening her whole face.

“What about y—”

“Does this shelf have anything suspicious?” She motions to a miscellany of decor and appliances.