Page 2 of Magical Melee

So, was I tempted to put a little castor bean oil in his favorite workout drinks?

Maybe.

Again, don’t judge.

It’s been a rough few months.

I didn’tactuallydo it.

Instead, I took the time to imagine him taking a swig while he was pumping iron with his mistress and urgently running to the restroom and not making it in time.

Generally, I didn’t daydream about such childish misadventures, but recently, I clung to them to keep me smiling.

Spotting the perfect table in the corner overlooking the sidewalk, I sat down with a thud and took in the rest of the store.

The shop had been hidden away in a quiet corner of Stonewick, a quirky village in the heart of the Midwest that celebrated all things witchy and magical.

Tucked between an old bookstore and a narrow cobblestone alley that most wouldn’t notice,Stonewick Teas and Sundriesevoked something magical merely by stepping inside. Soft light warmed the space from old brass lanternsabove, appearing as if they floated effortlessly overhead. The space felt warm and earthy, precisely what I needed.

Skye knew me well.

A large burled-wood table anchored the shop, and smaller tables outlined the rest of the area. A mix of vibrant-colored chairs brightened up the tea shop, and it felt likeHansel and GretelmetAlice in Wonderland.

The scent of exotic teas and spices wafted through the air, making the shop cozy and inviting.

Even though Stonewick was only a couple hours from where I’d lived with my ex, it felt worlds away. Alex thought it was a foolish place and too touristy with its witchy themes, gothic architecture, and Fae Festivals in the heart of Wisconsin. Ironically, my mom felt the same while I was growing up. She said she had better things to spend her money and time on. I won’t go into a detailed list of those things, but avoiding Stonewick was the only thing my ex and mom ever agreed on.

But call me a tourist, so what? I was beginning to love this little village and needed a break from real life.

The pumpkins spreading onto the sidewalk underneath the window added an extra reminder that fall was here, prompting me to figure things out quickly. Staying at a B&B would soon deplete my savings, but that was where I was headed after the house closed in three days.

But this weekend wasn’t about reality. It was clearly about escapism.

“I love that woman,” I whispered to Skye as she sat across from me.

Skye nodded and stretched toward the ceiling. “She’s a real hoot.”

“And she called me miss, not ma’am.” I chuckled. “I don’t remember the last time someone said that to me.”

Skye pushed some blonde hair from her cheek and smiled wider. “Well, it’s all a matter of perspective. She has to be at least eighty.”

I flashed a wry grin. “Thanks for that.”

Skye was about ten years younger, but sometimes it felt like that decade was a century.

Happily taking in the ambiance, I glanced at the English bulldog sitting upright in the corner, staring at me.

“Do you find it odd that dog watches me wherever I go?”

Skye shrugged. “Not really. Animals love you. Plus, I don’t think that’s what is really happening.”

I frowned and looked over at the bulldog, only to see it wink at me. A gasp rolled off my lips, and Skye eyed me.

“You okay?”

I chewed my bottom lip and raised my brows. “Not sure. The dog just winked at me.”

Skye snorted and shook her head. “You needed this more than I realized.”