6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Callum

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you'd think I'd never had a customer in the shop before.

Get a grip, Callum, just act cool.

Who the fuck was I kidding? I'd never been cool a day in my life.

Words. I should use my words. Ask him if I could help him find something.

Like I did with any other customer who wandered in off the street. I knew how to do this. He was no different than anyone else.

He puts his pants on the same way you do , Gran's voice rang in my head, and I shook her words away.

Because Michael's pants probably cost ten times what mine did, and I didn't think I had ever owned a pair that cradled my ass like his did. If I did, I probably wouldn't be single now.

I opened my mouth, and my tongue just deserted me. Completely forgot how to make words. Nothing–absolutely nothing–not one sound came out of my mouth. Clamping my lips tightly together before I made some kind of undignified sound, we just stared at each other for a full minute. Michael silently saying…a prayer, maybe, and me staring like I had seen a ghost.

Finally, Michael visibly shook himself and took a step closer to where I waited silently behind the counter. Then another and another. His face broke into that smile of his, so bright it was like the sun was shining on me through the gloom of the day.

Words. What were words? Who needed them anyway?

Blinking behind my glasses, I shoved them back up my nose and watched him move closer.

My breath caught in my chest, my pulse pounded so loud I could hear it in my ears, and my palms grew damp.

Then he veered to the left, towards the candles on display.

Uhh, what just happened?

Swallowing hard, I watched as he scanned the row, then picked one up. He sniffed it, wrinkled his nose, and put it back.

Running my damp palms down my jeans, I finally tried to speak. "Can– "

The word was garbled and so low I barely heard myself. Trying again, I finally managed, "Can I help you find something?"

There. I did it. I spoke to Michael fucking Endicott. And the world hadn't ended, and I hadn't died of embarrassment.

I could do this. I was a grown ass man now. So was Michael. Just a mere mortal, nothing more. No need for me to completely forget how to function in his presence.

Looking up from his perusal of the various cutesy witch knick knacks we had, he smiled slightly. "I'm just looking, thanks."

Pushing my glasses up further on my nose, I nodded. "Let me know if you have any questions."

Michael seemed completely out of place, wandering the display aisles. When he reached the last one, which was closest to where my tarot reading area was set up, he took a few seconds to scan the signage hanging on the wall above my table that advertised my rates for the various readings I did.

Finally, when he had looked at just about everything in the store, and then consulted something on his phone, he started towards my counter.

"Uh, hi," he said, his voice a tad deeper than it had been in school. Deeper and smooth, like the slide of expensive bourbon going down my throat .

Swallowing hard, I pushed aside the image of me down on my knees behind the counter, something else of Michael's, hot and smooth, sliding down my throat.

That was just a wishful fantasy, and not some kind of vision for the future.

Tugging at the collar of my long-sleeved t-shirt, I wondered why it was so blazing hot in here. Had Gran kicked the furnace up again before they had left? The woman liked to keep the temperature set as high as she could get it.

When I still didn't say anything–because words once again escaped me–Michael's smile faltered a little at the corners, and he looked uncomfortable and a slightly unsure of himself.

Taking a good long look at him, I noticed the dark circles forming beneath his eyes, and the slightly…rumpled look of him. Not bad, but not how I always pictured him in my head.

In school, he was always put together, in the latest styles and fashion. In the papers, he was always in a suit and tie that probably cost more than all of my belongings combined. The casual jeans and hoodie weren't a bad look on him, at all, but I could tell he wasn't at his best.

He looked…troubled.

He ran a hand through his rumpled hair again, mussing it more. It was kinda sexy, the just tumbled out of bed look, and I found myself liking it more than his usual artfully styled look.

Hex being Hex, and a lover of anyone who would give him the slightest bit of attention, chose that moment to jump up on the counter, landing practically under Michael's nose. The poor man startled, letting out a very high pitched, undignified scream. One hand landed over his heart, the other covered his mouth, and he looked as startled as me by the sound he had made.

Hex, who couldn't be bothered to be upset by anything, rolled around on the counter, purring so loud the neighbors probably heard him over the storm. Batting his green eyes up at Michael, the implication that he was to be petted was loud and clear.

"And there's a black cat. Because, of course, there's a black cat," he mumbled.

"His name is Hex," I offered, finally able to string half a sentence together. "He's my familiar."

His eyes widened comically at my lame joke, and his Adam's apple bobbed. "Uh, really?"

"No, of course not. He's just a rescue."

He snorted, looking slightly relieved. "Can I pet him?"

"Yeah. He's never met a stranger."

Michael reached a tentative hand down and ran it across Hex's fur. "He's so soft!"

"Yeah." My conversation skills could use some work. No wonder I hadn't had a date in…well, we didn't need to discuss that right now.

Get it together, Callum!

"Um, so, I was wondering if you sell–" he paused, looking over his shoulder at the empty store like customers had somehow come in without us noticing and would hear him. His hand stopped petting Hex, who unrepentantly batted at his hand with a paw, until Michael started stroking his hand over the soft black fur.

And why was I mesmerized by the motion, wondering what that hand would feel like stroking over my skin? My dick twitched in my jeans, and I was thankful I had left my shirt untucked. Sporting a hard on for a customer was probably bad for business.

When he didn't continue, I prodded, "If I sell…?"

He turned back to face me and took a shallow breath, then lowered his voice to just slightly above a whisper. "I can't believe I'm doing this. But then, I can't believe half the bullshit that has happened the last two days."

When I just stared at him silently, he must have realized he was basically talking to himself and hadn't asked me a question yet. "I read on your website you sell spells. Or spelled candles. I saw those, but I didn't see exactly what I was looking for."

Scraping my teeth along my bottom lip, I asked, "And what are you looking for? "

He glanced back over his shoulder, scanning the store again. It was still as empty as it had been when he'd stepped over the threshold. "Are we alone?"

I shrugged, "Just me, Hex, and the ghosts, of course."

His blue eyes widened comically, and he visibly swallowed. His eyes darted from side to side, like he was looking for a spirit to pop up at him. "Are there ghosts here?"

"Not that I've seen and I've lived here my entire life."

His lips quirked, but didn't break into his trademark smile. "Do you fuck with all your customers."

"Only the really cute ones." Where had those words come from? Had I just been possessed? Because what in the actual fuck was I even saying right now? I could feel the heat creeping up my neck to my face. If Gran heard me talking to any customer like that she would smack me on the back of my head.

Possession. It was the only explanation. I had been possessed.

Playing it cool, like I hadn't just told him I found him cute –what the fuck, Callum!–I stared at him unblinking, ignoring the way my cheeks burned.

Michael stared back at me, and I fought the urge to not squirm under his gaze. His eyes traveled over my face, down my chest, then back up when the counter blocked the rest of me essentially from view. His lips quirked, but his eyes held…interest? Surely not. Not for me.

Wait a minute…was Michael…gay?

In the two years we had shared a school, there had been no indication that he was gay. He'd had the same girlfriend his junior and senior years. Not that that meant anything. But he certainly hadn't been out in high school. Was he bi? A late bloomer?

Whatever his situation, it wasn't my business. Except, yeah, there was definite interest in those pretty eyes of his, I was sure of it. For me.

This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

"That was wildly inappropriate of me," I finally said by way of an apology. "I'm not even sure why I said it. Can we just forget the last five minutes happened?"

"If my life wasn't an absolute train wreck right now, I would probably tell you I find you cute too and maybe ask you for coffee or something. As it is, I just really need to see if you can help me. Then maybe we can circle back to cute and coffee."

I was back to being tongue-tied and speechless.

And convinced I was having some wild dream, and I was going to wake up completely disappointed, and go back to my boring life. Where Michael Endicott didn't blow into my shop, looking like sex on a stick, tell me I was cute and maybe ask me for coffee.

Yeah, none of that seemed like it would ever happen in my real-life world.

Dreaming for the win .

Okay, back to the problem at hand. "What are you looking for? Or need help with?"

"I think I'm looking for a spell? More specifically, something to break a bad luck spell. That someone might have placed on someone else. If that really happened in real life. Hypothetically speaking. Because you would have to believe in witchcraft, and I don't. Believe. But maybe I'm starting to? A tiny bit. I can't believe this is my life."

You and me both, dude.

"Look I googled Salem and spells, and The Witch's Brew was at the top of the search bar. And I think I recognized the woman in some of the pictures on the website. Daphne. She was a friend of mine in school."

Scrunching my nose at his lie, I arched one black brow, giving my head a small shake. "No, she wasn't."

His face fell, and he sighed audibly, placing his hands flat on the glass. "Okay, we weren't exactly friends. We were in the same class, and I knew of her." He glanced around the store once more. It was still empty, nothing new for a Tuesday afternoon. His voice dropped back to that sexy whisper of his again, as he leaned close enough to me that I could smell his soap–lemony or something citrus–and his natural musk. "It was rumored she was a witch."

Frowning, I pushed my glasses back up my nose, because Daphne had likely started that rumor herself, knowing her. She'd always thought it was funny to announce to people that she was a witch, just for the responses it would garner. Especially with our family owning an occult shop, though in Salem they were a dime a dozen.

Michael shook his head, the short drying locks of sandy brown ruffling with the movement. "Wait, didn't Daphne have a younger brother? I almost forgot about him. Super skinny kid, with crazy black hair and glasses he was always pushing up his nose–"

Pushing my glasses back up, I stared at him, unblinking. Though my heart did a little thumpy thump because he had remembered me. Sort of. After a minute or two. Or three. Whatevs. Still counted.

"You're Daphne's little brother? I remember you being shorter."

Yeah, I had been until eleventh grade, when I had sprouted like a tree. But Michael had graduated by that time and had missed my growth spurt.

Michael snapped a finger, "What was your name? Calvin? No that's not it. Caleb? Ugh, why can't I remember? Something with a C or a K, I'm sure."

"Callum," I helpfully supplied, because ugh, he couldn't even remember my name. But also, yay, he sort of had known my name, which was more than my high school heart had dreamed of. And I was going to focus on that positive, especially since I had pretty much lived my life thinking Michael Endicott hadn't known I existed. But he had. In a vague, I-sort-of-remember-you-not-really kind of way. I was still calling it a win.

He nodded, smiling warmly, "Callum. Yes, I remember now. It was a different name, but I thought it was cool. Way better than boring Michael."

I had no idea how we had taken a turn down whatever road we were on, but I wasn't about to stop him from talking. The longer he talked, the longer he stayed in the shop, and maybe I'd be able to get my brain to start functioning and stop sounding like a jackass and blurting out things like how cute I found him. I guess with all my blood rushing down to my dick, my brain couldn't be expected to be anything but a jumbled mess.

I wanted to say something flirty like, "There's nothing boring about you, Michael."

Instead, I just stared at him through my glasses, not blinking, not saying a fucking word.

I was the lamest of the lame. I had zero game. It was truly a miracle I had ever been on any dates and managed to get laid.

"So, is Daphne around, by chance?" He looked around again, like my sister was somehow going to appear out of thin air.

"No."

"Oh," he tapped his fingers on the glass counter. "Could you call her?"

"No," I shook my head, "I can't. Call her." And I was back to two- word sentences. Great.

Michael frowned at me, the skin between his eyes scrunching in the most adorable way. "Can I ask why not? Look, Callum, I really need her help. It's a matter of life and death."

Hearing my name on his lips had my brain back to the non-functioning level. How did the man make my name sound so sexy?

Wait. Hold up. Go back.

Life and death?

A bit dramatic much? No one was dying here.

Before I could tell him just that–if I could manage to get the words out–the bell above the door tinkled and a group of four women came in from the storm, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Tourists, by the look of them.

"Welcome to The Witch's Brew," I called in greeting, and Hex took this as his cue to sit up and look like the regal being he was, slow blinking his green eyes at the newcomers. Who would hopefully ooh and ahh over him, give him pets, and tell him what a handsome boy he was. Probably make some reference to the movie Hocus Pocus while they were at it. "Let me know if there's anything I can help you find."

"Oh, we saw your store online, and came in to look at the candles," one of the ladies called from the candle aisle. They seemed to be on a mission, and I was happy I didn't need to pay too much attention to them .

"And then last night the lovely young lady who led our walking tour on the witch trials recommended we stop in," another one added.

I knew they were talking about my friend, Macy, who led a nightly walking tour and regaled the tourists with sights and knowledge about Salem's famous witch trials. On nights when her sister, Tracy–yeah, their parents had no imagination–couldn't help her, I would fill in. I was scheduled to help her tonight, in fact.

Their presence silenced Michael, and we once again found ourselves staring silently across the counter at each other. He had the prettiest eyes, a gorgeous cornflower blue. The tiredness shining in them, along with the dark circles beneath them, didn't diminish how pretty his eyes were. I found myself wanting to caress the crease between them, to somehow ease whatever was troubling him.

He moved out of the way when the ladies brought their purchases to the counter, watching as I rang up their sales. They chatted amongst themselves and to me, and I answered a couple of questions they had about some places I thought they might enjoy seeing. They all gave Hex the praise he deserved, which he and I were both happy about. Anyone who didn't like cats wasn't welcome in my shop, a philosophy my mom didn't adhere to, unfortunately. She thought everyone was welcome, even the cat haters of the world. They were not, and while she was gone, it was my rules .

But the ladies petted Hex dutifully, remarking over his silky fur and pretty eyes. Hex ate up the praise, purring and stretching so they were sure to scratch in all the best spots.

Finally, they took their leave, and the shop fell silent. Michael had spent the last three minutes running frantic fingers through his thick hair, until the now dry brown locks were a mess on his head.

Leaning over the counter at me, there was a bit of frantic energy rolling off him, his eyes wide. Looking down into the case, he went stock still, and slowly asked, "Is that a skull?"

Following his gaze, I nodded. "Yep." It wasn't real, just a resin replica to add to the spooky, witchy vibe of the store.

He gulped, "Oh."

"What's the issue, Michael? Maybe I can help. Or direct you to someone who can help. Daphne isn't reachable right now."

I wasn't about to tell him she was at a yearly get together with the local covens, up in the wilds of Maine, doing whatever it was they all did when they converged together. Honestly, I'd rather not think about what they got up to.

He chewed on his thumbnail, looking uncertain, a look I had never seen on him in high school. Michael always looked confident. Sure of himself. It had always made me a little envious, because I had never felt like that. Still didn't most days .

"I made this one-night stand I picked up in the club leave after we were done, and he was super pissed, and I think he put a curse on me." Michael didn't pause between words, talking so fast I had trouble keeping up with what he was saying. "And now really bad things are happening to me, and I feel like I'm losing my mind."

His fingers tugged at his messy hair, pulling slightly on the sandy strands and making some of them stand on end. "My bosses for sure think I'm losing my mind. They've pulled all my cases and made me take a vacation ," his fingers left his hair to make air quotes, "and I just want my life back. I saw Daphne's picture on the website, and yeah, we maybe weren't close in school, but I figured she might not think I'm a complete nutjob. And it says you sell spells and spelled candles, and I'm really just grasping at straws here, Callum. But there's a skull in the case and a black cat and…" he waved his arm around, his words wheezy and his chest heaving, "tarot card readings, and witchy…stuff. But it is Salem, so I mean, you know, there's witchy stuff everywhere and I really need help before more bad shit happens. Because I'm pretty sure he put a curse on me!"