Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

As Iris navigatesthe winding streets of downtown Mystic Hollow, the nostalgia hits me in waves, each familiar storefront and weathered sign a reminder of a time in my life long gone. The town hasn"t changed much, its charm as enduring as the ocean that hugs its shores.

"So, there"s a BBQ and bonfire happening tonight at the Seashell Inn. I thought we might swing by," Iris suggests, her eyes flicking to me briefly before returning to the road. "Unless you'd rather just crash at my place. It's totally your call."

I smile at the mention of the Seashell Inn. "Isn"t that the place owned by the lady who used to chase us off her beach with a broom?" The memory of Mrs. Mitchell, her stern face barely visible over the hedge as she shooed us away, brings a genuine smile to my face.

Iris laughs, the sound bright and easy. "Mrs. Mitchell handed over the reins years ago. My friend Morgan runs it now. But if you"re not up for it, we can skip it. I promised Jasper I"d show, but?—"

"No, don"t change your plans because of me," I interrupt, shaking my head. The thought of a quiet night alone doesn"t appeal to me, not when there"s a chance to reconnect, to maybe even find a sliver of the joy I used to know here. "But I should probably find a place to stay. Think they"ll have a room available?"

"Probably, but you know you"re always welcome to stay at my place," Iris offers, her tone sincere.

I shake my head. "No way. You and Jasper need your space." It"s an easy assumption that Jasper has moved in; the way Iris"s face softens at his name says it all.

As we turn into the inn"s parking lot, the ocean comes into view. There's something about the Gulf of Mexico. The water is such a soft green compared to the dark blue of the Pacific. We make our way to the beach, where the setting sun casts a warm glow over the gathering of friends. The air is rich with the scent of BBQ and salt, the sound of laughter mingling with the gentle lapping of the waves.

"Gigi"s going to be thrilled to see you," Iris says as we approach.

"She's here?" I scan the crowd for the older woman with silver hair and a feisty attitude.

"Oh yeah, she works for Morgan, but she'd be here anyway. All you have to say is the word party, and she'll practically plan it."

I quickly spot Gigi sitting around the bonfire, regaling the group with one of her outlandish tales. "The squid was easily ten feet long, gripping the boat with his tentacles. I said, Connor McFadden, I know that's you. Now you let go of this boat, or I'm gonna whack you! As soon as he saw the oar, he let go so fast. I tell you what?—"

And then I see him—California Guy—frozen mid-motion, a coke bottle hovering inches from his lips. The recognition in his eyes mirrors my surprise, a silent acknowledgment of our shared journey here.

The moment our eyes meet, it"s like a current zips through the air between us. My heart does this weird skip, and for a second, I"m back at LAX, caught in the whirlwind of nerves and the unexpected comfort of his presence. It"s ridiculous, really. He was just a stranger who happened to sit next to me, who made a turbulent flight slightly less terrifying. And yet, here he is, in Mystic Hollow, looking as stunned to see me as I am to see him.

My mind races, trying to make sense of the coincidence, or fate, or whatever mystical force that"s decided to throw us back into each other"s orbits. I feel a flush creeping up my cheeks and I curse it silently. I"m not one to get flustered easily, but something about him—about this unexpected reunion—throws me off balance.

Iris, oblivious to the undercurrents, cheerily introduces me to the group. "Guys, this is Claire. She"s a friend from way back."

Morgan recovers quickly, lowering his bottle down with a casual ease. "Nice to see you again," he says, his voice light, betraying none of the tension that zings between us.

"Again?" Iris looks between the two of us. "You two know each other?" she asks, an eyebrow arched in that way she has when she"s stumbled onto something interesting.

Before I can answer, Gigi"s laughter rings out, drawing everyone"s attention back to her and her sea creature encounter. It gives me a moment to collect myself, to shove down the fluttery feeling in my stomach and replace it with something resembling my usual calm.

"We met on the flight over," I manage to say, hoping my voice sounds more casual than I feel. "Small world, huh?"

California Guy—no, I should really stop thinking of him as that—nods, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Definitely a small world. Claire, right?" He remembers my name, and the way it sounds in his voice, warm and tinged with a hint of amusement, sends another unexpected shiver down my spine.

"Yeah, Claire," I confirm, offering a smile of my own, though I"m pretty sure it comes off as more awkward than anything. "And you"re...?"

"Morgan," he supplies, and the name fits him somehow. It"s easy and unassuming, just like him. "Morgan Price."

I nod, filing away the name, along with the rush of warmth that accompanies it. "Nice to officially meet you, Morgan."

"Bet you could use a drink," Morgan suggests.

"You already know me so well," I reply, trying to play it cool.

Iris leans in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Wait, he was the guy on the plane?"

I elbow her gently, a silent plea to keep the details of my flight to herself. Now"s not the time, not with curious eyes on us, not when I"m still untangling the knot of emotions his unexpected presence has evoked.

"Jasper," Iris says when a tall man with dark hair joins us. "This is my friend Claire," she introduces us.

I eye the tall, dark, and handsome man and can completely see why Iris fell for him, not to mention the sparks that practically shoot out of their eyeballs whenever they look at each other. Their chemistry reminds me that I need to find a room for tonight.

I eye Morgan over at the tiki bar and feel my stomach drop. Why did I feel like staying here was akin to walking into the lion's den?

Gulp.

"Oh, there"s someone else I want you to meet." Iris nabs a woman by the fire. Even in the low light, I can see she has the same eyes and coloring as Morgan. "This is Morgan"s sister, Eliza. Eliza, this is Claire, and like you, she"s a pastry chef."

"Really?" That was unexpected. "It's very nice to meet you," I say, extending my hand.

Iris jumps in, eager to boast about my talents. "Claire"s actually working on opening her own patisserie back in LA. She"s quite the baker."

My heart twinges at the mention of a dream that now feels worlds away. "Was working on it," I correct gently, the word "was" heavy on my tongue.

Eliza"s expression shifts, a mix of intrigue and concern dancing in her eyes, but I offer a reassuring smile, not ready to dive into the saga that led me here.

"It"s complicated," I say, as if that explains it all.

"I know all about that," Eliza replies with an eye roll, and I have a feeling she does. Suddenly, her eyes light up like she thought of something. "Oh! Are you here for the competition?"

I blink, taken aback by the mention of a competition. "The what now?"

Eliza"s smile widens, and she leans in, her voice animated with excitement. "The Sweets and Spells Bake-Off. It's one of Mystic Hollow"s highlights."

I give her a look that says I have no idea what she's talking about.

"It's a dessert competition where the magic of baking meets the magic of, well, actual magic," she explains.

"Oh, no. This is the first I've heard of it."

"Really? I've been looking forward to it since losing to The Fondant Fellas last year."

"The Fondant Fellas?" I question.

"Yeah, they're as douchey as they sound."

"I bet. Too bad I don't bake with magic," not unless you count Tina stepping in every now and then to help back in LA.

"What? You're killing me."

I point to my chest. "Shifter."

"You're just like Kylie then. My partner for the competition," Eliza explains. "And I can assure you, there's just as much magic in her veins as mine."

"Maybe next time," I suggest, knowing they'll never be a next time. I have no intention of staying in Mystic Hollow for a whole year. This is just a quick getaway. A chance to sort out my life before returning to Cali to face the aftermath.

"You should at least come to watch," Eliza suggests, her enthusiasm infectious.

"Now that I can agree to," I say.