Page 10 of Magic & Matchmaking (Moonflower Witches)

Chapter Nine

EMMA

E ager witches lined up outside the door to Steeped in Love. The fifth bell rang from the bell tower, indicating it was evening time. The sun sank in the sky, and I straightened my shoulders from behind the counter. Riven’s hand found mine, and it filled me with a sense of calm.

Morty’s plan had worked. As soon as those girls saw Riven and me holding hands, they’d immediately done what teenage girls do best: gossip. Word spread, and by the end of the day, everyone in Thistlegrove knew that Riven Shiu and Emma Thorne were in a relationship.

Even better, I’d had almost no incidents with the tea shop in the last week since we’d made things official.

No plates getting thrown at my head, no chairs trying to trip me, no shelves threatening to topple over.

It was nice not having to worry about losing any important limbs.

Riven had been here every day, holding my hand, slipping his arms around my waist. Subtle touches and smiles.

It looked like it had been enough to convince the tea shop.

And now I was hosting our first matchmaking night since I’d taken over, which I sensed made the tea shop happy—and made me nervous.

Matchmaking, love, it was what made the shop and the tea special.

We’d placed candles on each table to provide some ambience.

They flickered with a dim light. Rose petals were scattered across the floor, and we’d covered each table with a silk pink tablecloth and seafoam-colored linen napkins.

I grabbed my wand and walked over to the hearth, stirring the cauldron that bubbled with a pink, frothy liquid.

Heat warmed my skin from the small fire crackling under the cauldron.

I’d made a special potion tonight, one that would help our patrons follow their intuition, find the right person for them. Pink smoke curled up in the air.

Everything was perfect. I turned to survey the small space and made my way across the room again, where Riven was polishing the last few tea cups.

We had specific tea sets for these events.

Tea that inspired romance, sensuality, and love.

Tea that would help everyone open up as they mingled with different partners and hopefully walked away with a date by the end of the evening.

Steeped in Love had one of the best matchmaking events in the realm.

I didn’t know what I’d been thinking canceling the first one.

“Are we opening yet?” Herman swooped down and landed on the bar top. “Oh, I’m so excited. It’s going to be awkwardness galore tonight.”

Riven snorted, and I raised a brow. “That’s what you’re excited about? Not the potential for people to meet their true loves?”

Herman scoffed, smoke puffing from his nostrils. “You don’t even believe in love.”

I felt Riven stiffen beside me, and he slipped his hand from mine.

The majority of his songs were about love, so clearly Riven believed in it.

Probably because he’d had so many girlfriends over the years.

Gossip about the bard spread fast and furious, and I was constantly hearing about the gorgeous women on his arm at different events.

“That’s not true,” I said. “Why would you say that?”

“Oh, maybe because in all the years I’ve been at Arcane Creatures Emporium, I never once saw you in a relationship.”

I glared at him. “That’s because I was busy running a business and taking care of my father. But now I’m in a very happy relationship,” I said with an edge to my voice.

We hadn’t told Herman about the fake part of our relationship. The dragon could not keep a secret, and if we told him the truth, he wouldn’t last a day before spilling it to someone.

“I’m surprised,” Herman said. “I mean, yes, you always talked about Riven all the time. Riven this and Riven that?—”

“And that’s enough out of you.” I stuffed a chocolate-covered strawberry into his mouth, my cheeks flaming.

“So what’s in the tea?” Riven asked from beside me, and I hoped he hadn’t been paying attention to Herman while he polished the tea cups.

I didn’t talk about Riven all the time. He was an important part of my life, so naturally, I mentioned him occasionally. Herman was exaggerating. Like always.

I pointed to the tins. “It’s actually Layla’s recipe. She thought of the idea to create a custom mix for tonight. It’s never been used before.”

Which made me a little nervous, but when Layla approached me with the idea, I figured why not try it?

She’d seemed so nervous and unsure of herself, and I wanted to give her a confidence boost. I hoped it worked, even though Layla wouldn’t be here to see it.

She’d told me in advance she wouldn’t be able to work tonight, which was why Riven was here to help.

“Cocoa nubs, dried cherry leaves, carob chips, and rose oil. Plus a hint of an aphrodisiac leaf that Layla made using one of her spells.”

The trays were ready. Now all we needed was to open the door and invite the patrons in. I nodded at Herman, and he made a sound I’d never heard come from the dragon’s mouth.

Riven leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Did he just squeal?”

“You heard him.” I crossed my arms. “He’s ready for the drama.”

Riven raised a brow. “Are we expecting drama?”

I shrugged helplessly. “I’ve never done this before. Maybe it’ll be inspiration for a new song?”

He laughed.

Herman used his tail to turn the handle on the door.

A blast of wind blew it open, and all our waiting customers began to file in, sitting at tables where their name cards were propped.

Layla had told me it was best to have themed nights.

Ones for men and women, ones for older witches, ones for men who preferred men or women who preferred women.

Tonight, we were doing a witch-only event.

I stilled when I saw Layla walking in. She gave me a shy smile and wave before taking her seat at a table. So that’s why she couldn’t work tonight. Because she was attending the event.

“Is that . . .?” Riven gestured to Layla.

“Yes! I didn’t know she was looking for a relationship.”

Another witch sat at Layla’s table, brown hair long and wavy. Riven took his seat in the corner, grabbing his lute, which was propped against the chair. He’d offered to be the musical guest tonight, set the ambience, and I’d eagerly agreed.

His fingers deftly plucked a few strings of his lute as he started to sing.

All the breath left my lungs. I hadn’t heard Riven sing in a long time.

Long before he became famous. I heard his songs sung by others, especially other bards who did their own interpretations of them.

But he’d never actually put on a show in Thistlegrove.

He closed his eyes, strumming a gentle tune while the words flowed from his mouth, smooth and buttery. Beautiful. The song was about a lost love. Haunting but hopeful, the ending hinting that the love had come back, that there was another chance.

“Are you going to actually serve the tea or just stand there and look at Riven all night?” Herman said from next to me, flapping his wings. “He is very easy on the eyes, but you have a job to do, you know.”

I startled, realizing I’d leaned my elbows on the counter, chin propped in my hands while I stared at the bard. “Yes.” I cleared my throat and straightened my apron. “I was just about to get started.” Low murmurs and conversation filled the tea shop along with Riven’s rich baritone.

The trays lifted into the air and floated toward each table.

Herman and I spent the rest of the night flitting from table to table, taking additional tea orders, keeping time, and encouraging everyone to switch tables and meet as many new partners as possible.

Layla and the woman with the brown hair were the only ones who didn’t move from their tables, sitting in deep conversation.

I couldn’t help the way my gaze kept gravitating toward Riven.

His muscles flexed from under his blue tunic, which had laces in the front that showed his hard chest. That same chest that had been pressed against me just a week earlier when he’d tried to save me from that shattering window.

I hadn’t let myself think about that moment until now.

Riven was my friend. He was also famous and could have any woman he wanted.

Not to mention he was only here for a month and then would be off again, gone for who knew how long.

There were a million reasons why he and I could never be in an actual relationship, and yet, staring at him as he played and sang so soulfully, I was starting to forget every single one, letting myself remember that night so long ago. That night we’d almost kissed.

The song came to an end, and I jolted as everyone broke into applause.

Riven stood, his chest glistening with sweat.

I supposed playing was hard work. He strapped his lute around his back, waving to the crowd, then shot me a smile that made my knees go weak.

His dimples puckered in his cheeks, his eyes sparkling.

He was meant to do this. It was clear Riven was in his element when he was playing.

He winked at me, then sat down to start playing again, and I tore my eyes away, forcing myself to wander around the room, pick up empty plates and tea cups. I strayed toward Layla’s table, overhearing her conversation with the other witch. Althea, I believed, was her name.

They spoke in hushed, quiet tones, but I picked out a few pieces of their conversation.

Well, conversation was a generous term. Althea talked the entire time, Layla barely having a chance to respond.

I grabbed a rag from the counter and leaned down to wipe a nearby table, wondering if the reason Layla hadn’t matched with any others was because Althea was dominating the entire conversation.

I bit the inside of my cheek, wondering if I should intervene. If Morty would intervene.

Before I had a chance, the sixth bell rang throughout the village. The night was officially over, and we’d survived without a single hiccup.