like that.” I pointed out a psychic who looked exactly like a gypsy. The woman’s onyx-black poodle hair and flashy cloth headband attracted a lot of attention with the Crazies. At least twenty people stood in line.
“There’s Rose,” Drake observed, arcing his chin to a spot behind the popular psychic. She leaned over the woman and whispered in her ear.
“Huh. What do you think she’s saying to her?”
“She’s probably telling her to get a move on.” Drake called out and waved, “Hi, Rose.”
Rose’s eyes lit when she saw him and waved back.
Still conscious of the semi-fight we had earlier, I only smiled in return.
“What’s wrong?” Drake asked.
I sighed, unsure of how much to tell him. “We got in a little bit of a fight earlier. I guess.”
Drake laughed. “A fight? About what?”
“She found me in the library and told me I couldn’t go in there.”
His face was open, caring, with soft lines highlighting his features. But his chin was rigid, firmly set. “Well, it is her house.”
“I get that,” I said. “It’s just that I found a journal in the library that looks just like my dad’s. I tried to ask her about it but she shooed me out and told me there wasn’t anything of my dad’s in there."
“Sarah,” Drake sighed my name like I was being stupid. “I know why she wants you to stay out of there.” He reached up and moved my hair off my shoulders, even played with one of the curls. “A lot of the old books are kept in her library. She has old journals and things from the first settlers. You probably freaked her out when you went in there and it shocked her. Did you give her a chance to explain? She’s not used to living with someone, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.”
Drake’s attention flicked toward Rose and his voice faded to a whisper. “My dad even told me once that she has a lot of books about Wicca in there.”
My mouth dropped and my hand reflexively tightened around his. “Wicca? Like the witch religion? Is she, you know, a witch?”
His eyes flashed. “No. She was doing research to tie the old journals from the first settlers into modern and ancient practices. She wanted to find out if some of the villagers back in the day were actually witches. That’s probably where the rumors got started."
Rumors? Maybe that’s what Marlene was about to say at the diner… “Did she find anything? Any proof, I mean."
Drake’s eyes shifted and he stared off at nothing. “I don’t know. My parents died before I could ask about it again. I haven't actually thought about that since the accident.”
I put my arms around him before I even realized I moved. It was reflexive, like catching a falling baby or breathing in the perfumed smell of flowers.
He smiled down at me, eyes creasing at the corners. There was a different hesitation to him. Not like he was uncomfortable, but like he thought any sudden movement might scare me away.
His lips parted. They looked smooth, like unworn silk. “Sooo…,” he said, obviously trying to change the subject.
A light touch trailed down my spine. My heart thumped in response. I wanted to kiss him in the worst way. To feel the soft touch of him on my lips, his muscled body embracing mine.
He cleared his throat. “Do you want to do anything else? Psychic readings, crystal balls, tea leaves, anything?”
I shook my head and stepped away. When Drake was around, I had to constantly remind myself that this wasn’t a vacation and he wasn’t going to be some sort of summer fling. “I don’t know.” I hesitated. “The rest of these people seem kinda out there.”
Drake’s eyes scanned the crowd and I followed his gaze, looking for a normal psychic. Realizing that was in and of itself ironic, I gave up.
Instead, I stood watching townies wait in long lines and shell out five dollars here and ten dollars there to learn things they already should know about themselves. Both the men and the women observed their psychics with bated
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