Page 11 of Of Poison & Pumpkins (Of Witches & Men #3)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rynn

I nside Elias’s shop, I’m immediately surrounded by a mass of helium pumpkin balloons.

They attack me like those crazy gadgets in a car wash machine.

Elias tries to bat them away, while mumbling something about squirrels, but we end up enveloped inside the cluster of helium weapons together.

We stare at each other. The dark browns of his hair contrast against the orange backdropping his head.

Undertones of earthy soil and sweet vanilla scents accentuate the pumpkin aroma we breathe in. He holds my gaze as I try to calm my racing heart.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. No one’s blaming you for what’s happening out there,” he says gently.

“ Yet . No one’s blaming me yet . The popsicles were purple !”

“But you don’t sell popsicles.”

“It doesn’t matter! Gossip will spread.” I pace, but bump into the dome of balloons. “If I’m forced to shut down, then I’ll have to move back home, and I can’t go back there. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

“Sunflower, look at me.” Elias’s hands grip my arms, a comfortable squeeze I desperately need to ground myself.

“If they take away my business, then—no, I won’t let that happen.”

Large business loan hangs over my thoughts like a thick raincloud ready to burst.

“I’m obsessed with game shows,” he blurts like he’s on a sugar rush.

“What?”

“And I’ve never been to a museum,” he says quickly.

“I eat anything and everything but potatoes because once I had a traumatic event with a French fry, don’t ask me about that story.

Hmm, let’s see, oh yeah, the only thing I splurge on is my suspender collection.

” He snaps the straps of the purple pair with a ladybug print he’s wearing.

“I only read if it’s an audiobook, and it’s best to finish the whole book in one swoop, so I listen on long car drives or my monthly hikes up Mount Gashville. ”

“What genre do you listen to?”

“Adventure, survival fiction. Like that guy who got stuck rock climbing and sawed his own hand off.” His smile transforms his face.

“Of all things, that makes you smile?”

“No, you make me smile.” He steps back. “Look, my distraction worked. You’re not freaking out anymore.”

“I wasn’t freaking out.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and glare into his otherworldly eyes.

“You care too much about what others think of you, and haven’t cried a day in your life, and—” I step forward.

Not even one of these balloons could fit between our chests with how close we are. “And you still park terribly.”

“And?” His smile doesn’t falter.

“And your cat is a nuisance.”

He gasps, but that adorable, awful, perfect smile remains. “Take that back. Goosie is an angel.”

I cross my arms. “Last night, Tinz texted me that Momma Kitty was howling. She went to check on them and Goosie was somehow there, taking up all the space, cuddling with the kittens.”

“Unspeakable!” Elias throws up his arm. “Toss him into the feline detention center.”

“She needs room to nurse!”

Elias’s gaze bores into mine, then drops to my mouth.

He licks his lips and a different nickname for him comes to mind, one only meant to be used in bed, but that’s not our path.

His attraction to me, despite being flattering, is temporary and only because I’m the new fruit in a big jungle or something.

I don’t know, I’ve never been good at metaphors.

He sees me as a shiny new apple, ripe for the picking, but he will quickly find a grape, or cantaloupe, or juicy melon that will suit his hunger.

“Why are you listing off fruits?” he asks.

How much had I said out loud?

“You were wrong,” he says, and dares to brush a finger along my jawline. “The last time I cried was at my grandpa’s funeral.”

His skin against mine should not feel this explosive. If a slight feathery touch sends a spasm through my core, then I need to get laid, and soon. Maybe Porter will be available tonight.

I clear my throat and gesture at the balloons. “We should untangle ourselves before someone needs one of these,” I say, yanking on a string and making the balloons bounce.

“The shop’s empty. No one will miss us.” His voice is thick with a feeling I shouldn’t investigate.

Though, he’s right. It is eerily quiet here.

Only the sound of the pumpkin clocks tick-tock can be heard.

Not that I can see if they’re truly pumpkin-shaped through this balloon bubble, but I’d bet they aren’t shaped like flamingoes.

A flamingo-themed shop. Now that would be eccentric.

Flamingos. Ha. A strange laugh bursts out from the seams of my lips, wild and inappropriate.

Elias’s playful eyes sparkle with intrigue, and he joins along while poking the balloons with his finger, causing them to bang into our foreheads.

“Aaaah,” he half-sighs, half-sings. “So, what now? We could hide in here forever, but you get hangry. Since you’re vegetarian, only I’d survive if there was an apocalypse.”

“Are you suggesting that you’d eat me if necessary?”

His eyes narrow playfully, then asks, “Are you volunteering to be eaten?”

I dip out of the balloon cage to get away from that remark.

“The popsicle sticks in their hands were purple.” I start tidying his shelves just for something to keep my hands busy. With each item I move, Elias softly replaces it to its original position as he follows me. That doesn’t stop me from continuing down the entire aisle.

“I thought Alexandra only wanted revenge on her husband. So, why is she passing out poison to random Nergs? And why did she pick such an outrageous curse? How far is she going to go? How many people? I need to stop her from handing out anything else.”

“Why don’t I use my magical wish on you now?” Elias offers his power of the month like a refillable cup of soda.

“No, I won’t accept it. Find someone else.”

The front door swings open and a few customers skitter inside, whispering to each other and checking over their shoulder at the commotion. At least a dozen first responders circle the victims, flashing lights bouncing off the metal fountain.

“… be okay?” one customer finishes.

“Never seen anything like that …”

“… purple store, my friend said …”

Behind them Tinsley and Zanther scurry in, the latter taking up the width of the entire aisle. That man could be his own island.

“Oh, Rynn! Thank Goddess!” Tinsley suffocates me in a rare hug. “I called the school first to make sure Maya was okay, then called you a million times. Have you checked your phone?” Her eyes drop to my hand. “You’re holding it! Why didn’t you answer?”

As if the universe has plotted a personal plan of torture, my sister’s face lights up the screen. Brooke’s name flashes, but I ignore the call, as usual, then tuck it back in my pocket.

“They’re all going to blame me and Palooza.”

“What? No way!” Tinsley shakes her head and guides me away from Elias, but I can feel him tread behind us. “We don’t sell those popsicles. You can take a needed vacation if you want, but I’m still opening the doors, with or without you.”

I’m too afraid to ask if it’s because of her loyalty or because of the money I donate to help raise Maya. Something brushes against my leg, startling me. Goosie.

“Hello to my new favorite handsome guy.” Tinsley reaches down to pet Goosie, but Elias jumps between them.

“Awe, you’re too sweet. Elias Thoren, at your service.

I assume you’re a good friend, so listen up.

My pronouns are he/him. Class of 2015. Go Wildcats!

No criminal record, or crazy ex stalkers.

I have one fetish which is negotiable.” He pauses, grins my way, and I can barely contain my blush.

“Uh, let’s see … I’m afraid of anything sticky.

Don’t have allergies, but potatoes are a deal breaker. ”

“Well, are there applications available to experience this fetish of yours, because Miss Rynn here might be?—”

“Tinsley! That’s enough from you.” I narrow my gaze at her. “Wait, if you’re here, who’s watching the store?”

“Oh, right!” She rushes out on tiptoes as more people walk inside.

A section I hadn’t noticed in the back corner grabs my attention. Gorgeous knitted pumpkin creations with stitches from basketweave to herringbone to reverse stockinette are all displayed in the shadows.

“These should be up front! They’re beautiful!” I’m ready to take a stance against whatever argument Elias is about to raise, but he nods.

“First thing tomorrow, I’ll switch it up. Any other suggestions?”

As unique and trendy as this shop is, I haven’t seen his eyes light up with passion when talking about his business.

Was the theme his uncle’s idea and he went along with it?

Did he sacrifice his real dreams to make his family happy?

A conversation we had long ago resurfaces, the need to win his father’s approval. I wonder if it’s still true.

“No other suggestions. You’ll make headlines before Halloween.”

He runs a hand through his hair and suddenly finds something on the ground extremely interesting. “Nah, we’re small and simple. This is a test run for the real thing.”

“And what’s that?” I lean closer.

“Eli!” Zanther lunges out of the back hallway. “Come to the back! Now!”

I race after him, careful not to run into the mannequin with a pumpkin head, then turn the corner into the back hallway past the ‘Employees Only’ sign. We step down three stairs into a long corridor similar to mine.

“What is it, Zee?” Elias asks.

“We have a fuckin’ problem, man.”

The obvious drip drip drip drop couldn’t be clearer. Everything within four inches of the floor is soaked and ruined. I glance around noticing a cot and a hamper of clothes. One poor lamp and a mini fridge that might electrocute us all if we don’t unplug it asap take up the remaining space.

“Turd nuggets!” Elias yells, then yanks off his suspenders until they hang loose.

Before I can turn away, Elias whips off his shirt.

I should be thinking: ‘what good will that do?’ but instead an overwhelming freak-out consumes me.

I freeze. He stands half-naked in front of me, and I can’t think straight.

Inappropriate images come to mind. One in which I’d tie his hands with those suspenders and ride him until he screams a real curse word.

I’m momentarily stunned by the intensity of my imagination, plus the sight of his bare upper body is basically poetic. I long to know what the tattooed symbols on his chest mean. When did he get the body art? Does he plan to get more?

On his hands and knees, he tries to plug the hole.

“Hurry, save my …”

“Your suspenders!” I jump towards the hook on the wall where at least ten pairs hang—dry and safe, thankfully. Rolling them in close to my chest, I take in the scene once more. “Have you been living here?”

“Never did like those five-star hotels.” Elias chuckles, then leans back so his butt rests on his heels allowing his glorious, unearthly, immortal chest attempt to seduce me again.

I swallow down a wad of saliva that has accumulated out of nowhere and stare at a spiderweb in the upper corner of the room. “Come on, collect what’s still dry. I’ll help you carry it out.”

There isn’t much to grab. I smile at his retro rip-off daily calendar that shows October 15 because next to the date is an image of a popular band from our high school days. Did someone give him a Lollipop Daze souvenir as a joke, or is he still a fan of the pop group?

Zanther’s head pops in through the doorway and says, “At least the water doesn’t smell. Don’t think it’s contaminated. I’m on hold with the restoration company, and I’m emailing your insurance agent right now.” His forehead creases before he disappears out of the door from the hallway.

Guess it makes sense, since he may not even fit in this space with the two of us. I can’t believe Elias lives here.

Elias rises, his sculpted back towards me. As he rings out his shirt, his shoulders and back flex. My unspeakable parts want unspeakable things. Water shouldn’t be sexy. He turns, and that makes everything worse. Because his pants are also wet, giving me a detailed outline of his yums.

Maybe a one-night stand with my past flame wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He seems like the type to try anything once, so I may as well take advantage while he’s flirting.

“Come on, Doomsday. You’re sleeping at my place tonight.” I gesture for him to follow me out.

For the first time, he seems to realize minimal clothing items are separating us and takes a step backward. “Doomsday? You can do better than that. I need an epic nickname; one you can scream at the top of your lungs or from the peak of a mountain.”

While he slips on a fresh shirt, I silently imagine all the ways I’d want him to make me scream.

I take a deep breath. “Need anything else?”

He reaches for something pinned on the wall next to his microwave that I hadn’t noticed. It’s a picture of him and Zanther, both laughing while rowing on a lake under a sunset. The expression he wears is … well, it’s everything.