Page 9 of Of Poison & Pumpkins (Of Witches & Men #3)

CHAPTER SIX

Elias

I wake as Goosie’s paws knead my forehead. “That’s enough, sir,” I grumble and rub my eyes, then inhale the forever pumpkin scent that might tattoo itself onto my soul.

I bolt up and scan my closet/home for the essentials.

My suitcase of clean clothes has a couple of items left.

I jump around the small space in the nude.

Careful not to step on my fiery orange feline bestie, who is currently licking his balls, I shove my bare legs into a pair of briefs, decorated with none other than acorns, almonds, macadamias, and pecans, because: nuts.

In a rush, on go the rest of my clothes, finishing off with a new pair of purple suspenders from her store.

Outside my locked door, I hear the bustle and chatter of customers browsing in Pumpkins. Who will be the lucky one to win a gift at check-out? I love spreading positivity to others in little ways. During my endless goal of winning back my father’s attention, at least I can spread joy along the way.

My stomach rumbles and tightens. Whipping open my minifridge reveals no miraculous treasure, only the same expired cheese as before.

Details from last night rush back as I close the fridge.

A lot happened in one day—reuniting with Rynn, the ritual, claiming a new spell, and seeing her apartment.

My mind feels like it’s on overload. Everything had gone much better than I had anticipated.

Except for the shady thief who stole her paint.

“Don’t look at me like that, Goosie. There’s no way in turd-nuggets I’ll let Rynn be caught purple handed.” I scritch his ears as the door opens into the hallway. “Don’t worry, Goosie,” I call after him as he sprints out the emergency exit door, “we can find that thief without you.”

“Thief?” Zanther asks.

Sunshine disappears when he storms through the door. My little brother’s shoulders barely fit through the frame. It doesn’t help that he carries crates of merch.

“You look like a pumpkin god with those biceps,” I joke, then pretend I’m going to punch him in the stomach.

He spins, more fluid than a dancer, and knocks me against the wall. “What thief?” Zanther asks again, smiling as I’m stuck under his hold.

Sure, I’ve sculpted my five-foot-eleven mass into a rowing weapon of power, but Zanther will always win in our duels.

I grunt, pushing against his hold.

Zanther bends a bit, while still carrying the crates, and bites the upper curve of my ear.

“Frippin-aardvark!!” I scream and slump to the ground. “You bit me!”

His laugh booms louder than dynamite, echoing down the hall. “Serves you right for lying to me, Eli.” He turns, walking away without a care in the world. “You taste like sour fungus, bro. Go take a shower.”

“Thanks for opening this morning. Don’t you need me now?”

“My dad’s here. Go shower. No one wants your stinky, sweaty meat-sock stench in the store, even if your ball sack is made of cupcakes.” I grab my sneaker and chuck it at him, but my bro disappears into the chaos of customers.

Frustration and guilt wash over me for oversleeping.

Quickly, I collect what’s needed and dart into the ‘Employees Only’ restroom.

Stripping, I use the single sink to clean.

I should send Zanther a gift card for lending a hand when he has his classes at State to worry about.

Without his help, there’s no chance I’ll win.

Two weeks left to earn the popular vote and make more sales than the other shops, including Rynn’s. Two weeks to get my dad’s attention.

This is the only chance I have left. After a lifetime of trying to win Noah Thoren’s approval and rope him back into my life, this will be my last attempt. If I fail, I’ll be out of options.

So I not only must compete against Rynn, but crush her. Which does not sound appealing.

I dip my head under the faucet and douse my hair. As the soap washes over me, I consider my options. What would convince an independent, assertive woman to go on a date with me? I’d need to pick a restaurant with vegetarian options.

When I shake my head, water splatters on the floor. I grab a hand towel and pat myself dry. My reflection in the pumpkin-shaped mirror shows a man who wears a mask. At least that’s what my therapist said before I quit and moved across the country to chase impossible approval.

I prep my razor and flick it under a trickle of water. Does Rynn like bearded men or short stubble, or clean and bare? It’s not like I have to stare at my own face, so I’d groom myself however the frick she wanted.

If she still likes indie musicians, I could check the local listings of bands playing. Or I could take her to a bookstore. The last time I checked her social media, she had posted a review about a popular thriller.

My sunflower would never be caught dead reading a romance.

“Son of button!” I hiss from nicking my neck and press against the bubble of blood.

Serves me right for calling Rynn mine. She belongs to only herself, but the thought of her whispering, ‘ I’m yours’ in my ear sends a shiver jolting up my bare flesh.

My cock twitches. I force myself to think of Zanther making out with my step-dad to calm my hard-on before something needs to be done about it.

Now that the incestuous images of Kurt and Zanther embracing are forever imprinted in my brain, I re-dress and stash away my few personal belongings.

When I open the door, the pleasant pumpkin aroma floods my nostrils.

The room is sprinkled with patrons of all shapes and sizes, even at such an early hour.

A middle-aged man to my right picks up an orange bandana with pumpkins on it and wraps it around the head of a little boy.

Across the way, two elder women giggle and point at a teacup set with pumpkin shaped tea-plates.

And of course, the best-seller area is crowded with children grabbing pumpkin stuffies.

My stomach yells at me again. I head towards the baking aisle. It wouldn’t be too terrible to swipe fresh pumpkin bread for breakfast. Zanther stands in that aisle, taking out individually wrapped pastries from his crate and displaying them on the counter.

“Took you long enough.” He clicks his tongue and pretends to be upset. “Were you busy jacking off to her?”

“Shut up,” I say, while snatching my favorite pumpkin muffin and ramming it into my mouth. “I didn’t see what spell you picked last night.”

“The ability to outwit you in any challenge.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I stare at him, eyes narrowed.

He shrugs and before I can determine if he’s serious, his dad rounds the bend.

“Oh, good, our pumpkin prince has awoken from his slumber,” Kurt says in a voice deeper than a well.

I turn to shake my stepdad’s hand. His grip could break my spine in two if given the chance. His bushy eyebrows rise into an angle more crooked than my parked car.

Kurt is the reason Zanther and I are such different sizes.

We’ve had a blast teasing him about having to order custom sports jerseys from the tall and wide men’s store.

I can’t remember the last time Kurt was seen without sports attire—from NHL, NFL, NBA, MLB, and everything in between.

I swear he owns at least a thousand jerseys.

Recently, Mom customized a closet for him to display them all.

“You two up to no good already?” Kurt teases with a broad smile that could brighten all of Antarctica in the darkest hours. “By the way, we both signed up for extra shifts until Halloween, right, Zanther?”

My caveman of a brother grunts, his gaze continuously darting to and from the front door.

“I chose a spell for the register to check out customers on its own this month, so we won’t need to worry about staying behind the counter.” Kurt gestures to the pumpkins every which way and nods with pride. “You’ll definitely win the competition, son.”

Son. If only the man who gave me his genes would call me the same. I should be grateful for having a supportive role model like Kurt for most of my life, but it’s not enough.

Does Rynn remember when I bore my soul to her at graduation? I let her know my deepest secret back then, that I’d do anything to be a son that Dad is proud of. I’m well aware of how broken that sounds, but no amount of therapy has changed my mind.

I blow out a deep, weighted breath. I never told any of my girlfriends this fundamental truth, that trying to impress Dad drives all my choices.

Only Rynn. Honestly, a part of me hopes she forgot, considering how shattered I sounded.

My own father hadn’t even shown up for my high school graduation that day.

If it weren’t for impressing Dad, I’d never try to beat her shop in a competition.

The pumpkin bell dings above the door as it swings open.

One person enters, the definition of timid written across their forehead and rocking a shape curvier than an umbrella.

They curl in on themselves while slowly perusing the options.

To my side, Zanther drops a bunch of items on the ground, then clears his throat, stumbling away without picking them up.

Kurt puts a hand over the back of my neck. “I’m afraid that Zee is lost to us. He’s a complete gonner,” he says, nodding to the shy customer.

I follow his gaze to the petite newcomer, who blushes when Zanther points something out and crouches to whisper something in their ear. They blush and cover their mouth with one hand.

Interesting.

“Do you mind if I make suggestions to help Pumpkins?” Kurt asks.

With a degree in marketing, I don’t need his help, but nod my assent. It never hurts to agree if it makes someone happy. “Sure! The more minds we combine, the better off we’ll be. Send me an email and I’ll look tonight.”

“Oh, I can list them off now. We should add beauty products, ya know, pumpkin scented perfume, lotion, chapstick, and shaving cream, all of it.”

“I’ll look into who could stock that.”