3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Netti

I stand sleepy-eyed in front of the kitchen sink, feeling out of sorts. My roommate, Alita, had already come and gone before I had dragged myself out of bed. After cleaning up my mess and baking the scones, I forced myself to stay up, even as my eyelids drooped heavily, to work on my essay. Throughout the night, I had been plagued by dreams of that shifter.

Even now, I still feel the phantom touch across my collarbone, as though he had marked me. But that wasn’t possible, was it?

Growing up in a household full of witches who ran a bookshop, I had seen my fair share of shifters, vampires, and other creatures of lore. The moment he stepped through the door, I immediately pinned him for a shifter. From the way he walked, his predatory grin, and the otherworldly glint in his blue eyes, I would bet he belonged to one of the wolf clans. I had never been with a wolf shifter before, but I had heard the rumors and wouldn’t need to be asked twice.

Shaking my head, I pull my hair into a messy bun and start washing the dishes I was too tired to finish the night before.

He was a stranger from out of town. Not only that, but he probably forgot me the moment he stepped out of the door.

I had too many things on my plate between college, the bakery, and family to even think about dating. Especially not some rich stranger who I only met once—who probably had dozens of women vying for his attention.

Despite Conner Abernathy’s undeniable handsomeness, it was not the only thing that mattered. In fact, his looks were more than enough to make anyone weak in the knees. After submitting my assignment with two minutes to spare before midnight, I couldn’t help but dive into a Google search about what Mr. Hotshot Bossy Grumpypants did for a living. As the search results popped up on my screen, I was greeted with numerous images of him engaging with mayors, cutting ribbons in front of impressive buildings, and attending glamorous galas with stunning women dressed in outfits that would cost me more than my monthly salary to afford.

With a sigh, I refill the coffee maker and set a single cup to brew. Meanwhile, I start making a list of things I have to do before I start my shift at 1:00 today. It’s a necessity for me. Without my daily list, I would be lucky if I didn’t forget my own tasks. Sometimes, I even half-joke about making a memory pastry to eat with breakfast, so that I don’t forget anything.

The scones.

The shattering of porcelain echoes against the linoleum, followed by shrieks from Honey, who swoops in and lands on my head. I curse as I step backward to avoid the shards of my favorite coffee cup and spilled coffee.

I forgot to tell Connor he had to concentrate on what he wanted to focus on.

Fishing for my phone out of my purse, I wedge it between my cheek and shoulder as I grab the broom and sweep the broken cup together in a pile. The phone rings before Alita cheerfully picks it up.

“Magickal Morsels bakery where every day is a magickal day, how can I hel–”

“Alita, it’s Netti,” I say in a rush, tapping my foot and leaning on the broom. “Has the customer Connor picked up his order yet? The ones with the focus scones from last night.”

“Well, good morning to you too, sleepyhead. Did you get a good rest?“ Alita muffles the receiver on the other end as she calls out, “Have a good day!”

“Alita!” I hiss, storming off into the hall to find the dustpan. “This is important!”

“Yes, yes. Don’t get your panties in a twist. He picked them up bright and early this morning. Grumpy but quite scrumptious. I could eat a man up like him without being asked twice.” She whistles. “Did you get his number?”

I let out a groan, letting my body sag against the wall as I pull my knees to my chest.

“Oh, don’t be down, Netti. I’m sure one bite of your baking, and he will be back begging for more.”

“That’s not the issue. He came in for an order of focus scones–”

“And you gave him a love spell,” she gasps, but I can hear the joking undertone in her voice.

“No!” I whisper over the receiver, as if someone will overhear me alone in our condo. “You know love spells are illegal, let alone rarely work.”

“Then, what is it? Some of us are trying to work here.” Pots and pans clang together in the background.

“Well… I made the scones, as usual, and told him when to eat them and how long they’d last. The problem is, I forgot to tell him the most important thing: to be thinking about what he wanted to focus on when he ate them.”

“Oh boo, so you might have made him concentrate on his next trip to his private island instead of this meeting. I’m sure it’ll be fine; he seemed so uptight. If he’s not thinking about the meeting, then a vacation will do him some good.”

I groan, my temples beginning to throb. I rub at them with my fingers, hoping to ease the pain.

“What if he comes in and complains?”

“Then, you flash him that sunshine smile of yours, get his number, and give him something positive to focus on besides work. Now, get yourself cleaned up. It’s a madhouse, and I’ve got to run to pick up some packages from the post office on my break after you clock in.” The phone clicks and goes dead.

Of course, that’s the advice she would give.

I quickly clean up my mess, the sound of clattering dishes blending with the gentle hum of the morning, and make a new cup of coffee in my glittery aluminum travel mug. The unicorn rearing on the side proclaims, “Sparkle like no one is watching. There is magic inside you .”

I add an extra dollop of caramel sauce and heavy cream, the sweet smell lifting my spirits before I screw on the lid.

I can do this.

I run to the bathroom, pulling on my favorite pastel pink dress and swiping on some mascara and lip gloss before grabbing my bag. Honey squeaks from his perch in the corner of the room where he’s hanging upside down, wings tucked in tight. I scratch the top of his head and blow him a kiss.

“You can’t come today. I’m not working the closing shift. Don’t cause any mischief while I’m gone,” I whisper to him before throwing my phone, keys, and wallet into my purse.

I am nearly halfway down the sidewalk before I remember I left my coffee and lunch on the counter.

I would not starve working in the bakery, but I am saving every penny I can, so packing my lunch instead of going out adds up. The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries is a hard temptation to resist, but most days, I hold my resolve. That and there was no way I would survive today without caffeine and sugar. I rush to the door, my hurried footsteps echoing in the empty street. Fumbling with my keys until I find the right one, I insert it into the lock and jog inside. Tucking my lunch bag under my arm, I run outside, and close the door. I struggle to maintain my balance as I juggle the keys. Suddenly, my coffee tips to the side, the scalding hot liquid cascading down my arm and over my skirt.

“Shit,” I yelp, the searing pain making me jump back. The burning sensation lingers, a reminder of my carelessness. Instinctively, I stick out my arms to avoid getting the coffee anywhere else. I didn’t have time for this, but I couldn’t show up to work covered in sticky coffee. Determined, I hastily wash up and change, sighing as the cool water soothes my scalded skin. Finally, I grab all my things and check twice before locking the door and heading toward my bakery.

I glance down at the watch on my wrist before turning the corner toward Main Street at a brisk walk. After all my delays, I only have twenty minutes until the start of my shift and the bakery was fifteen minute' walk away if I took the shortcut. My eyes glance longingly toward the deep green of the forest dotted with burnished golds and reds. I have always loved nature, so finding a condo that faced the woods was the sign I needed when I came to tour Rusthollow when I was trying to leave home.

“You don’t have time to go the long route today,” I tell myself out loud as I glance longingly at the winding dirt path.

Inhaling the crisp late autumn air, I let the smell of evergreens mingling with wood smoke rejuvenate me. That is, until the scent brought about the memory from last night of the handsome shifter leaning over the counter. Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I brush the thought away. Just as Alita said: we’d probably never see him again.

I turn left, away from the forest, cutting through the neighborhood that would lead me directly to the heart of town.

“Good morning, Mrs. Taylor!” I wave at the elderly witch pulling weeds in her immaculate front yard as I reach the row of Victorian-style homes.

“Good morning, Netti. Off to the bakery?” She sits back on her haunches and lifts her gaze to meet mine, the sun dancing along her tanned face. The corners of her eyes crinkle as she lifts a hand in greeting.

“Yes, I’ve picked up an extra shift today.” I glance at my watch, not wanting to be rude but I did not have time to stay and chat.

“It’s exhausting seeing you constantly running from school to work and back again. You’re a young witch. You should live a little.”

“You know what they say, Mrs. Taylor. Work hard, play hard.” I plaster a fake smile on my lips.

“You’re not fooling me, girl.” She shoves her spade into the flower bed beside her, where the fall chrysanthemums are bursting in warm shades of orange, red, and yellow. “I’ve lived a long life, and you have a bright aura, but I can see it wearing on you.”

“It’s just this time of year. End-of-the-semester projects and all. I promise once winter brea—“

“That is peculiar.” She leans over her white picket fence and I turn around, but nothing is amiss—just another row of houses.

“What is it?”

She lifts a hand and gestures around me. “There is something different about you today. More than just you overworking yourself. Have you met someone new recently?” Her hazel green eyes meet mine, and my palms begin to sweat, my stomach tying up in knots.

Could she possibly know about the stranger from last night?

“I meet lots of strangers all the time working in the bakery,” I stammer, but I feel the pull of her magic and swear even the flowers in her garden turn to look at me.

“I know you don’t have time this morning to come in for tea, but can I see your palm?” She raises a graying eyebrow and holds out her hands.

“Umm, sure.” I bite my bottom lip and switch my mug to my right hand to offer her my dominant hand. Her lips press together in a firm line before she grabs my wrist, her cool finger tightening around the skin and opening my palm. She makes little humming noises as she traces the lines of my palm.

Mom once told me one of my great aunts had read tea leaves and palms. She had always scoffed at the notion that your future was set in skin, but she’d never left an empty tea cup setting with the dregs alone.

Minutes tick by as I wait impatiently, my heartbeat thudding in my ears, for her to tell me some story that I’m working too hard, or my career choice is a poor one and I should have stayed at home and been the ugly duckling of magic in the family. While the boss would be understanding, the thought of being late turned my stomach sour, adding to the tight knot of tension that had taken residence this morning.

“Netti.” Her voice snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts, but her eyes look faraway as though she was seeing through me. “You have run into your life mate, but something is blocking the bond. Catch him before the next full moon, or else your life will take a turn down a dangerous path.”

“What do you mean, my life mate?” My brows furrow together. There was no way she could mean the guy from last night.

She drops my hand asa car passes behind us, breaking the moment.

“Best you get to work. These old bones need rest.” She pats me on the arm before turning around and making her way up the path to her front door.

She couldn’t be right. There was no way I was mated to a shifter, let alone a billionaire. Right?