Page 4 of Untraced Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #1)

Morga n

Later that evening, a chill had set upon Cutters Cove. Not that there had been an ounce of warmth in the day, but dusk had swallowed daylight, leaving a newfound bitterness in its wake.

A shiver staked its claim over my body, and I was about to seek refuge in the warmth indoors when the padding of footsteps had me glance over my shoulder.

A guy in a black hoodie with eyes a bright tint of green leaned over the crooked fence separating our properties, his lower half hidden from view.

“I thought I’d come over and introduce myself. You must be our new neighbor. I’m Wesley.”

He pulled back his hood, revealing a square jaw and thick dark hair that fell loosely over his forehead. I waved awkwardly from my front steps.

“Hi. I’m Morgan,” I said, offering him a polite smile.

He looked at me with intrigue, his head cocked to the side, in thought it seemed. When he spoke again, his demeanor changed, and a cheeky grin filled his features .

“We’re having a small gathering here tomorrow if you wanted to come and meet a few people in town.”

A question that sounded oddly like an order.

His eyes took a dive to my feet then slid back up to meet mine again.

I inwardly groaned.

Flirt.

No wonder Betty was getting all giggly talking about the boys next door. Wesley was not a boy. He was all man. I guessed in his late 20s and a good-looking one, too.

Except he knew it.

I knew all too well how these guys worked, thanks to my ex.

Gripping the handle of my broom tighter, I swept the last of the season’s bronze dusting my front porch off the side. The leaves floated over the edge and onto the ground. I wanted a day for myself to get settled in, but knew I should at least try and do the neighborly thing.

“Thanks, I’d like that,” I lied. “What can I bring?”

He waved me off. “Don’t worry about that. Just come over around five-ish and leave the rest to us.” Then he winked before turning back towards his house.

I watched him until he disappeared back inside.

Luckily, guys like him were no longer my type.

** *

After waking the next morning, I shoved my feet into my runners, tugging a knitted beanie over my ears. Morning air was the one thing I could count on to help clear my mind, but sea air was intoxicating.

Borderline addictive, even.

There was just something fresh about it, like the salt on my lips could cleanse me in some way. Every breath like a brand-new day.

I set off towards the bus stop until I stood before the town map I’d seen yesterday, skimming over the labyrinth of trails I could follow. There seemed to be a track that looped around the perimeter of the town which would take me past the forest, so I opted for that.

As I walked, I couldn’t help thinking about Wesley’s invitation, or gathering as he’d put it, that afternoon. A heaviness settled in the pit of my stomach. There were things about me I kept hidden, things I didn’t know how to explain, so I naturally kept people at arm’s length.

A party with a bunch of strangers was not part of my plan, and liquid courage would definitely be required to calm the nerves.

The footpath soon turned into a dirt trail that wound its way around the outskirts of town, pockets of darkness peering back at me through dense forest. It trailed off to the right up a grassy bank that spoke of hushed whispers in the breeze, and I rested on a rock for a moment taking in the view overlooking the town.

Cutters Cove was small without being too small, and I liked that about it.

Mountains curved their way around the town as if protecting it with their broad expanse, and in the distance, swampland lay littered with willow trees chasing another life.

Further to the north, large cliffs boarded the edge of the cove, their baren rockface scarred by the elements that evidently tore through the exposed side of the town.

A raven sounded high above me, its raspy craw breaking my attention.

I searched the sky, beady eyes finding mine as it stalked me from its perch on naked limbs. Some people thought ravens were a sign of death or a bad omen. They just gave me the creeps.

With a sigh, I hopped down off the rocky overhang and began following the trail back into town.

Coffee Cove soon came into view, the converted villa a faded timber that had obviously aged over its time. Four women sat at a rustic outdoor table that encroached on the footpath. Wrapped in jackets and deep in conversation, they clutched their coffee mugs, lapping up the morning air.

An older man with a receding hairline leaned against a lamp post. He lifted his gaze at me.

“Good morning.” He smiled genuinely, tipping his head and straightening the newspaper in his hand.

“And to you.” I waved, turning toward the small villa.

Set back a few feet off the footpath, I followed the three cracked pavers to the entrance where a quirky owl held the door open at its base.

As I walked inside, the familiar scent of coffee hit my senses, and the timber floorboards and rustic interior warmed my insides.

I admired the reclaimed whiskey barrels serving as leaners in their second life before my head lifted to the wall of photos, all in mismatching frames and randomly placed on the wall in no particular order.

It seemed Coffee Cove was certainly the place for a morning brew, with most tables full of customers of all ages.

A young child’s eyes sparkled as they met mine, evidence of hot chocolate around his mouth in a prominent circle. I laughed freely as his mother caught my eye, shaking her head with a smile.

Heading over to the fridge, I plucked a bottle of water from it.

“Morgan?”

I followed the voice to find the girl from the coffee cart clearing a table, a tea towel draped over one shoulder.

“Oh, hey.” I smiled at her. “It’s Skye, right?”

“The one and only.” She returned to the counter. “Lovely morning for a walk. This is my favorite time of the day.”

“Mine too,” I agreed, handing the water over to her along with my payment.

My gaze shifted to the window where a haze of sea fog still lay over the cove. Its muted tones stood frozen in breathless air, begging for an artist to recreate its dreamy masterpiece.

A palette made for my soul.

The thought spilled from my mind before I could stop it, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment to collect myself. I hadn’t picked up a brush since the accident; I wasn’t ready.

The emotions that were bound to my brushes, still heavy. Too raw.

I wound my attention back to her, swallowing over the lump in my throat .

“Tell me, what does a girl do on the weekends around here?” I asked as I worked to keep my voice level, determined to bury my thoughts.

Skye shrugged. “Depends on what you’re into.

My brother’s having a party at his house this afternoon.

” She tipped her head to the side. “Actually, to be fair, it’s more of a gathering than a party by the sounds of it.

.. but a girl can bring wine and it soon turns to a party, right? ” Her irises glistened at the thought.

The word gathering caught my attention for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

Coincidence maybe?

I pulled the lid off the water and took a sip, welcoming the liquid as it slid down my throat. “You don’t mean at 19 Cutters Terrace, by chance?”

Skye’s brows creased. “Yeah. Have you been invited?”

I nodded. “Yes, by a guy named Wesley… Is he your brother?”

She shook her head. “Wesley’s my brother’s flat mate. You must be the neighbor he mentioned. This place is way too small.”

At least I would know one person there apart from this Wesley guy.

Skye whipped the tea towel off her shoulder to dry a coffee mug from the rack behind her.

“How about I stop by your place. We could go together? I’m hardly going to know anyone there either. What do you say?” she suggested .

I smiled cautiously as Skye turned to take another customers payment, unsure if making friends was the best idea, but I liked her theory.

I waited until she was free to speak again. “Strength in numbers, you reckon?” It was better than walking into a party full of strangers alone.

Skye laughed. “Yeah, something like that.”

I paused momentarily. “I’m at number 17. See you at five?”

She grinned, waving me goodbye. “Sounds like a plan.”

I raised my bottle to her on my way out, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. I only had to make an appearance; I didn’t have to stay long.

***

Later that afternoon, I shimmied into my favorite black jeans and slipped a tank and sweater on. I was always the first to feel the chill, and my pale skin was proof of that. Running my hands through my hair, I applied some mascara and a nude shade to my lips before smacking them together.

The heaviness in my stomach had lifted knowing I had Skye to go to this party with, happy to go along with her ‘strength in numbers’ plan. The possibility of making a new friend in town made me cautiously uneasy, yet another part of me, the part that longed for friendship, tingled with comfort .

Knocking came from the front door, and I hurried to swing it open. Skye stood dressed in black leggings and an oversized denim jacket with a cropped tee peeking out from beneath.

She held up a bottle of bubbles in one hand and did a ridiculous dance “Are you ready?”

I cracked up. “Just let me put my shoes on.”

It seemed strange to hear my laughter again. The sound so foreign to me after so many years in a state of permanent mourning.

I ducked inside, glancing in the mirror one last time to smooth my hair. Shoving my feet into my sneakers, I grabbed my ciders before following her outside.

We walked over to the neighboring house where the front door hung wide open, a pair of work boots neatly lined up to the side.

We let ourselves into an open-plan kitchen and living area that had an instant ‘boys’ pad feel to it.

It had no particular color scheme, and men’s clothing sat drying on a rack off to one side.

When I noticed the older-style couch and couple of armchairs positioned in front of a large TV and oversized speakers, I was certain of it.

The dull thumping of a baseline hit our ears, followed by a few hoots of laughter erupting from somewhere below.

My head ducked to the side, following the noise that filtered from downstairs.

Skye turned to me with a raised brow.

I pointed down the dimly lit stairwell. “You first.”

The stairs lead to a large room with walls smeared black as if the night sky had spat out its insides in revulsion. Couches and armchairs occupied one area, a makeshift bar set up in the corner and a large door held open, leading outside.

The rest of the room was vacant space, now filled with what looked to be some sort of sparring competition between two guys. One topless, one not. They were both good-looking and well built, but not in an over-the-top way. My eyes widened as I took in their fighting, each blow making me wince.

Skye instantly deserted me, racing over to a guy who was outside with his back to me. She gave him an enormous hug from behind. It had to be her brother.

I stood pinned at the bottom of the stairs beneath the doorway as curious stares landed on me from around the room, piercing my skin. Perks of being the new girl. I was used to it by now.

“Hi, I’m Morgan.” I waved to no one in particular, and a curvy girl with dark auburn hair, heavy eyeliner, and a black choker around her neck approached me.

“Hey, I’m Scarlet.” She smiled in greeting, her hazel orbs giving me a onceover. “Don’t mind them; they’re just having some fun.” She nodded toward the two guys jostling in some supposedly not-so-serious sparring match, but damn, it looked real to me.

It was like something out of a movie, the guys ripped with all their muscles and—

“And that’s Jade,” Scarlet continued, pointing at a girl with bright chestnut hair over the other side of the room. She waved in response.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” I replied, giving Jade a wave as well. My gaze swung around the room, landing on familiar green irises .

Wesley leaned against the back of a couch, beer in hand. He lifted it in the air. “Morgan, glad you could make it.”

“You asked so nicely, I couldn’t refuse,” I countered with a chuckle.

Scarlet moved into my line of vision. “Aaannndd you’ve obviously met Wesley somewhere along the way?” Her hazel eyes watched me with interest.

“Yeah, I just moved in next door, he invited me over.”

Scarlet’s lips formed a thin line, her head bobbing in understanding. She moved in closer, her voice lowering. “Between you and I, many a woman has probably had an invitation to his house, if you get what I'm trying to say.”

I nodded. “Loud and clear.”

No surprises there.

A heavy thump sounded from the center of the room, drawing my attention. Of the two guys sparring, the broader one with light hair stood over top of the other, the darker haired one flat on his back. Blondie extended his hand, helping the guy on the ground to his feet.

They slapped each other on the back in good spirits before circling each other again.

“That’s Reid and Colton,” said Scarlet, motioning to the two guys, but her words misted into the background as my attention gravitated to the guy who I assumed was Skye’s brother, still facing away from me.

When he turned to the side, my breath stilled, lungs holding tight, recognizing the familiar brown hair .

It couldn’t be. The guy from the gas station?

His feet were bare, and he wore a dark t-shirt and faded black jeans that hugged his thighs in a way that should be dubbed sinful.

I was sure it was him.

Scarlet’s voice broke my stupor. “Oh, and last but not least... that’s Skye’s brother, Tyler.” She nodded towards Skye and the stranger from the gas station.

My mouth went dry, falling open slightly. Like I could catch a taste of him.

Skye’s brother .

Tall, dark, and handsome. As if his mother had checked all the right boxes.

I didn’t need the distraction of a male. But against my better judgement, I found myself silently willing him to turn to me.

To find my eyes.