The bartender’s eyes widened. “Ouch.”
“And I wasn’t even trying to score. I just ordered my usual, smiled at a stranger, and—bam.” I slumped lower on my stool. “Now I’m banned from my favorite café.”
He winced and shifted to stand between me and the coffee pot brewing on the countertop as if it might become a projectile. I pressed my lips into a frown. Smart move, but still… hurtful.
“Oh. It gets worse,” I said, taking a sip of courage from my frozen cocktail. “Last month, I was stranded on the side of a country road with miles of sun-bleached hills and stubborn tumbleweeds in every direction.”
“Sounds isolated. What happened?”
“My magic happened.” I pointed the end of my straw at him like he was an agent in one of my seminars. “You see, damsel-in-distress is supposed to be a sure thing. It’s a classic scenario.”
"Makes sense," he said.
“Well, a handsome stranger pulled over. Tall, dark, helpful—” I sighed, puffing a stray curl off my face. “and apparently, a carjacker. While I was digging lipstick out of my bottomless purse, he hitched my Mustang to his tow and drove off. That’s not a meet-cute. That’s grand theft auto.”
The bartender’s rag nearly slipped from his fingers. “You are cursed.”
“I know! I can’t be the matchmaking agent who racks up more police reports than phone numbers. My coworkers are starting to notice.”
I brushed imaginary lint from my strapless dress and scanned the bar, double-checking that my secret was still safe. Then I took a long swallow of my cocktail. Maybe tequila would dull my humiliation and make my confession less tragic. But honestly? There wasn't enough tequila on the island for that.
It wasn't just my reputation that haunted me—Imissedit. The sparks. The butterflies. The miracle moment I could conjure for everyone but myself.
Now I was stranded in no-man’s land—literally—and every failed attempt left a residue of jealousy that grew into something worse: the quiet ache that maybe my glitch was permanent.
I'd started to doubt my abilities. Sometimes even love itself.
And if I stopped believing in love…
My throat squeezed. I couldn’t go there. Not yet.
“Have you tried the apps?”
The bartender's voice cut through my thoughts, bursting the little bubble I'd built around them. I scoffed, flicking melted ice from myfingertips.
Have I tried the apps.Did he think I was new?
“My accounts were hacked. Twice. Then some dude stole my bio and started catfishing subscribers. The cybercrime task force has me on speed dial.”
“Yikes.”
“Exactly. This is how it starts. Doubt settles in, belief systems falter, and it trickles down to my clients. Then—” I snapped my fingers. “Poof. Magic gone. I’ve seen it happen. I know how bad this can get.” I leaned over the bar, my desperation thicker than the sultry air. “So tell me, are the stories about the waterfall true? Can it fix me?”
His expression softened into something close to pity. “You mean the wishing waterfall? Locals say it can wash away whatever weighs you down, bad luck, even curses.” He tossed his rag over his shoulder, warming to his topic as if he normally served oracle wisdom alongside his drinks. “Just be careful what you wish for. The water doesn’t always flow the way you’d expect.”
An ominous shiver snaked down my spine. I shrugged it off. Figures there’d be a catch. But warning or not, a ritual cleansing was exactly what I needed.
Before it was too late.
I’d already tried burning enchanted candles. Salt circles had been a waste of time—and salt. I even splurged on the fullThree-Ghosts-of-Christmasovernight package with a highly sought-after medium. It cost a fortune and did absolutely nothing.
Scrooge got enlightenment.
I got an empty bank account and a new fear of the dark.
I cringed. No more ghosts for me. I was one jump scare away from moving into a blanket fort.
The wishing waterfall might be my last shot.
