What's a Witch to Do?: A Midnight Magic Mystery by Jennifer Harlow Page B

“Hey, some guy’s asking for you.”
    My body tenses. Another hit man? “Who is he?”
    She smiles mischievously. “I told you. Some guy.”
    Great. I stand and walk into the store, my heart leaping into my throat when I lock eyes on the man at the counter. She was right, he is some Guy. “Dr. Sutcliffe,” I say with a nervous laugh. He looks gorgeous in his dark blue jeans and plaid sweater with white shirt underneath. “Um, hi!”
    “Hi,” he says, blushing just like me.
    Neither of us says another word for seconds, we just coyly smile at one another. Billie eyes us both, then clears her throat. “May we help you with something, doctor? We’re having a sale on Harry Potter items.”
    “Oh, uh, no. Thank you.” He clears his throat. “I was just stopping by to check on Cora. How is her hand?”
    “Fine. She said it still hurts and itches a little though.”
    “That’s normal. It means it’s healing. The discomfort should stop in a day or two.”
    “She’ll be happy to hear that,” I say.
    More awkward silence where we gaze at our shoes. Billie clears her throat again. “Sorry. Frog in throat. I’m going in the back to get some water. Excuse me.” She winks at me as she passes. I really hope he didn’t see that.
    When the curtain shuts, Guy and I smile nervously at each other. “So … you own this place?” he asks.
    “Yeah, it’s been in the family for generations.”
    He glances around, taking it all in. “I’ve never been in a magic shop before. It’s … interesting. Are there a lot of Wiccans in town?”
    Really only about fifteen who practice the religion. “Enough.”
    “And you’re the, what do they call it, ‘High Priestess’ is it?”
    “Who told you that?”
    “Collins. I never would have pegged her or you for a Wiccan. I always imagined someone like Stevie Nicks or Goths singing to the moon. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he backpedals. “Or the religion. To each his own and all.” Oh my goodness, I’ve flustered him again. A handsome man is clumsy around me. I like it. “I didn’t insult you, did I?”
    “Not at all.”
    He shakes his head. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me today.”
    “It’s just one of those days,” I say with a chuckle.
    “I guess,” he says, averting his eyes. “So … have you always been Wiccan?”
    “Pretty much. It’s the family religion, not unlike being a Baptist around here.”
    “And you perform spells? Do they work?”
    “Most of the time. They’re really just a way to focus and meditate on what you want. We don’t sacrifice animals or anything like that.”
    “Oh, no, I know you don’t. The websites said so.” He was researching witches? There go the tingles again. He blushes again at his slip. “So uh, Founders’ Week is this week, right? What’s that usually like?”
    I shrug. “Don’t know. We haven’t had one in fifty years, since the three hundred mark.”
    “But you’re on the committee, right?” Has he been checking up on me? “What, um, events do you suggest I hit?”
    “Well, you missed the crafts fair yesterday, but you can make the bake sale at the Methodist church today. My auntie’s making pig cookies. They’re delicious. I’m really just coordinating the festival on Friday. It’s gonna be great. We have games, rides, even fireworks. Sophie’s actually in the pageant that day.”
    “I’ll definitely have to go then,” he says.
    “Um, here,” I say, handing him a yellow flyer on the counter. “This
has the schedule.”
    He reads it. “‘Bachelorette Auction?’”
    “Yeah, it was my cousin Erica’s idea,” I say, rolling my eyes.
    “Are you in it?”
    “No, no,” I say with a chuckle. “Hell no.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because … ” Nobody would spend a nickel on me, “I’m too busy.”
    “To go on a date for charity? That doesn’t sound like you.”
    “But you don’t know me very well,” I point out.
    He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you