Chapter 2

Winston

"Shit!" I dropped the cookie sheet, and all the cookies I had just baked for the café.

I sighed in exasperation as Charlotte poked her head back into the kitchen.

"Boss?"

"Any customers hear that?"

"Nope, but I doubt they'd care. I mean, we mostly get the college scene anyways."

"Right, right." I glanced at my hand, looking at the burn which was already turning a blistering red. Turning to the sink, I grabbed the ointment Maggie had always kept near it. Good idea, that. Then I noticed Charlotte still staring at me.

"I'm fine. Just a burn. I'll heal it up quickly."

"Okay!" She popped back into the store front. She was so chipper. My aunt had not been kidding when she warned me of that.

A few minutes later, and burn free, I used a pot holder to grab the cookie sheet from the oven. The smell was heavenly, and they were ready right in time for the afternoon rush. At least according to my aunt. I was thankful she had given me so many pointers on the café before I bumbled myself into listening to her and buying it. That said, she'd also left quite a lot out.

Like a certain regular, and friend, named Willow.

The café was still empty as I filled the case up with the chocolate raspberry cookies. I left the back glass open a crack so the smell could fill up the front even more than it already had. Not everything was magic, just simple logic.

Charlotte was watching me when I turned around. Her keen eyes seemed to see every part of me. She was also a witch, and helped in making the coffee. We infused it with wake up spells, or focus spells, all depending on what the customer wants. It was noted on a sign on the counter, so no one could complain they'd not known.

"Can I help you?"

"Nope. Just learning what I can about my new owner. Boss. New boss. The new owner." Charlotte's voice picked up speed as she corrected herself.

If someone's head could explode hers might. I laughed, shaking my head.

"It's okay. What have you learned?"

Rubbing her hands over her bright red face, Charlotte collapsed onto the counter, not looking at me.

"Are you going to survive it?" I asked.

"What?"

"The embarrassment? It's fine, really."

She looked up at me, and straightened off the counter. "Well, you seem to have a good sense of humor. Oh, and you rescue women at 2 am to keep them from being run over, so a gentleman. And you bake really well."

I felt heat creep up at the mention of my late night encounter.

"I couldn't sleep in the new place, so I went for a walk…" I trailed off. She was smiling a little too broadly.

"What?"

"You seem distracted a bit today too. I mean, do bakers normally try to pick up cookie sheets bare handed?"

I growled. "No. And I'm not."

"Not what?"

"Distracted!" I was a bit louder than I meant to be.

"Then you might want to put the tray down and stop waving it about."

A customer walked in and Charlotte cheerily greeted them by name as I ducked into the back. They made a purchase and then I heard noises. It seemed like the afternoon student crowd was coming in to study. I was starting a new batch of croissants for some sandwiches, when Charlotte popped in.

"The cookies smell wonderful. Can I have one?"

"Sure. No cost, just like my aunt."

She beamed, then slyly said. "Her name is Professor Willow Redwine, by the way. The multi-colored haired woman you rescued and briefly met this morning? She teaches at the university - studies and teaches the history of magic."

"Magic? She"s not a witch." Her eyes were the greenest green I'd ever seen.

"Nope. Her best friend is though. She talked about it in class."

I pondered that. "Why would a human teach magic, though? Wouldn't witches hold those jobs?"

"Usually. The rest of the department is. But she mostly teaches all of the rest of them who are curious. Plus, she's really good at it. Published several books too. Working on another one if I remember right. Frequent customer too…"

I realized I was asking way too many questions about a woman I just met. Even if I kept remembering the feel of her on top of me when she crushed me after saving her. And why that memory seemed so appealing, I had no idea at all.

"Thanks Charlotte. When do you get off?"

"I switch out with Lyzzie in about an hour. She'll be here the rest of the evening till we close. She's a pretty good baker too."

"Yeah, Aunt Maggie told me."

"Cool."

A ding went off, and Charlotte went back out to help the next person. The sound became a steady companion as I baked and assembled various sandwiches and foods. Two pots, one of tomato and one of chicken noodle soup simmered on the stove, and I doled out orders as they were called. When the afternoon rush died down, I told Lyzzie, who was the exact opposite of Charlotte in attitude and dress, to come get me if she needed me and headed upstairs.

It was odd to suddenly live above where I worked - and odder still to own all of it. My aunt had been more than nice to sell the place to me, claiming she'd planned for me to inherit and take over for her all along. She'd sold it at quite the bargain too, as she had a life savings already, and planned to cruise away most of it. This way, it saved me on inheritance tax, and she didn't have to keep up with it anymore. She could take the money and live happily ever after with it. It hadn't taken too much convincing on my part, since moving away seemed like the best idea at the time.

I checked my cell phone, and saw three missed calls from my mother, and one from my aunt.

Perfect. I called Aunt Maggie back first.

"Winston!" She screamed when she answered. I had to hold my phone away from my ear, and then decided to put it on speaker phone instead.

"Ouch, Maggie I can hear."

"Oh sorry, hang on!" she shouted, but at a lower volume. I heard a bunch of background noise, and then it died out as a door clicked.

"Sorry, sorry, I was on deck and there's music playing. Wild party, this cruise. How is the first day going?"

"Well. You were spot on about everything you told me. A few customers have been irate at your sudden departure though. Lyzzie and Charlotte coped just fine, and have been running it well so far as I can tell."

"Eh, I didn't want a going away party or any kind of fuss. They'll get over it, at least the ones who even notice."

"A professor named Willow noticed."

"Oh, you met Willow did you? Very nice girl. We've had many chats about magic. She's sweet and loves it all. I wish she had been a witch, really. I'll have to email her."

Imagining Aunt Maggie emailing anyone was an odd thought.

"How is the cruise?"

"Good, I'm having the time of my life. So glad I decided to do this."

A door opened somewhere, because I heard the loud music again, and then it died back down. It certainly sounded like people were having the time of their life out there.

I shook my head. Aunt Maggie had owned the café for as long as I could remember. Over the three decades I'd been alive, I'd spent summers as a kid running around the gardens and helping bake things in the kitchen. And eating way too many sweets. This place held so many fond memories for me, and I knew the layout of the kitchen like the back of my hand. But my mother hadn't been happy with the decision to leave California.

"Remember, don't let your mother bully you. It's a sound investment, and you needed the change."

"It's like you can read my mind. She's next. I've missed three calls."

"Well then, don't let me keep you from the delight. I'll call when I can!"

Click. She was probably off to drink more. She'd always been the life of the party.

Staring at my phone, I realized I hadn't updated my mother's contact photo in years. There she was smiling, her hair still brown instead of the bright silver she sported now, her amber eyes sparkling. I hit the green phone to call, and waited, each dial tone sending my heart beat racing higher.

"Winston!" The tone was miles away from the delight in my aunts.

"Mother. What did you need?"

"What did I need? Can I not just check in on you? I mean, you moved across the county at the drop of a hat! I wanted to know you made it safely, and ask how the first day was going. It's been nearly all day, and I called multiple times."

"Of course you can check in on me. I've just been busy figuring out and running the café, is all. Sorry, I didn't hear my phone. The first day is going well. The café is steadily busy."

"What have you been doing all day, since you weren't answering my calls?"

"Baking. Running a café?" Saving a woman from almost being run over… "I haven't had much time to do anything else."

"Pish posh. Get the employees to do that. Now, is there any chance you'd reconsider–"

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish."

"And I'm not going to. I am not reconsidering my having an arranged marriage. There shall not be one, period. We did not like each other, and I am not being saddled into some relationship to try and produce kids of all things, when neither of us wants it. Stop. Asking. Me."

I was met with silence at that. I knew this was the topic that she was really calling to talk about – not whether or not I had made it safely, or been enjoying my day.

"Now Winston…"

"No, mother. I am not marrying her. Not one single piece of me is considering it. You need to stop."

Multi-colored hair flashed into my mind then, and I shoved the image out of my mind.

I heard my mother snap at someone, then a disgruntled sigh.

"Spend a few weeks there. Think about this Winston. Please. You know that the witch line has a better chance if both parents are witches - and the power between you two would surely produce a witch child. This is an excellent move for everyone involved, and she's a lovely girl. She'd be a great wife for you. She might even move out there and join you in this…. endeavor."

"I don't want to discuss this any longer. Good night, Mother."

Hanging up, I threw the phone at the couch, and collapsed into the soft cushions. She'd never let it go. My phone buzzed, and I picked it up to see a call coming in. My brother.

"Dude, what did you do to Mom?" Brad asked. "She's biting everyone's head off. I regret coming to visit."

"Why was it me? She might be mad about any old thing."

"It's always you. And she had just answered your call."

"I just said I was staying here, and not marrying Sherry."

"She still won't let that go, huh?" I could hear the resigned sigh in his voice. We'd had this talk multiple times over the past few months.

"You could marry her, you know. I wouldn't mind." It was a joke but one I wish I could really implement.

"Hell no. You"re the older brother. Also, are you forgetting the fact that I am already married?"

"You could always have more than one wife, right? Have all the witch kids. Make mom proud."

"Look, I wouldn't marry her either if I was single. I get it. I'll try to bring mom around. It's not like she's without grandchildren, and an amazing witch daughter in law."

I laughed. "Thanks, I needed that."

"How's the bakery?"

"Café. And great. I'm enjoying it." I fiddled with the side of the cushion, thinking about the things I still needed to learn.

"Any hot chicks?"

That made me pause. "Why?"

"That's not a no - so there is?"

I let out a sigh, "Brad, let it go. And why on earth is that your first question?"

"Not in a million years. Because you live near a college now. Who is it?"

"I never said there was someone."

Hearing how my voice shifted, he knew he had me. "Nope, who is it?"

"Just… I kept someone from getting hit by a car. She's pretty cute. She came in this morning, apparently she's a regular here."

"Saved her from being run over? Hero already; way to make a first impression. Nice."

I groaned.

"Witch?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Shit." I felt the emotion in that one word, he summed it up perfectly.

"Yeah. But apparently she teaches the history of witchcraft."

"Well… I'll leave you to tell mom about that one. Oh, here she comes. Later!"

And click. People sure did like to end calls suddenly.

I buried the phone into the couch this time, and ignored it as I went to shower, wash off the smell of cinnamon and dough. Baking was one of my favorite things in the world, but I didn't always enjoy smelling like the inside of a cinnamon bun.

The hot water was glorious as it steamed up the shower. I stood there for several minutes basking in it, before finally washing myself off, and getting out. Looking in the mirror, I saw a bruise on my shoulder where I'd hit the concrete. That would explain some of the soreness for the day. I was bone weary, tired though, and just wanted to sleep.

Thinking back to that moment, I wondered why she hadn't seen the car coming. Then again, it was going rather quickly down the small sideroad. I'd just been glad I'd reached her in time. Her multi-colored hair had been vibrant against the night, and the pixie following her had glowed too.

Her body had felt quite wonderful slammed into mine, and when she looked at me the first time… she'd had beautiful green eyes. Maybe the friend Charlotte had mentioned had magicked them. It didn't matter. My reaction had been rather quick, but then she'd elbowed me in the gut trying to get off, and I'd had time to control myself. And stuff my foot in my mouth at the first opportunity.

I dressed, and did a few stretches with my arm. Giving in, I dug my phone out of the couch and turned on the screen.

One unread text, from mother.

"Think about it, please."

I sat down and dropped my head into my hands, rubbing at my eyes. I'd had a late night running out for supplies and items for the apartment. The bigger items were all to be delivered tomorrow. I needed to go back down into the café, eat something, and help close up for the night. Turn in early, and not sit here thinking about a woman I had no good sense going after.

Running from one relationship, avoiding another, and moving across the country to run a café I bought spur of the moment was probably enough to dwell on for anyone. Who needed to add in another relationship on top of that? No matter how cute she was. Instead, I should think about what I needed to do for tomorrow, and find out where the account books Aunt Maggie had promised me were in the kitchen to figure out the financials…

Willow Redwine. It was an interesting name. I wanted to know more about her… and I'd be sure to see her in the café again if my employees were right. I could only hope I'd see her tomorrow… and maybe strike up a conversation with her. Just to get to know my regular customers, after all. I could ask her if she liked the muffin. It was important to plan out a good menu…