I groaned and put a hand to my head.“Oh, yeah.I forgot.I’m not dressed.When can you be here?”
He chuckled.“Already am.I’m standing on your front porch with a latte and a bag of donuts.”
My stomach growled at the mention of coffee and food.“You’re officially my hero.I’ll be right down.”
I rolled out of bed and realized with horror I’d gone to sleep in a tank top and tiny Juicy shorts.Perfect.Nothing like greeting the town heartthrob half-dressed and hungover on potion fumes.Excellent life choices, Piper.
I considered changing.Really did.
But he was already there.The coffee was already cooling.And the idea of making him wait while I spiraled over wardrobe choices felt… worse.
I padded downstairs instead, fingers combing through my hair in a useless attempt to make it look less like I’d lost a fight with a pillow.
When I opened the door, Owen stood on the porch in his usual rumpled button-down and jeans, looking like he’d stepped out of some small-town book boyfriend mood board.Latte in one hand, white paper bag in the other.
His gaze slid over me and stalled for the briefest second on my bare legs.
Heat prickled up my neck.
“I—uh.”I snatched the coffee like it was a life raft.“Thanks.”
“Long night?”he asked, stepping inside when I moved aside.
“You have no idea.”I took a gulp of latte so enormous it was probably illegal in several states.Heavenly caffeine hit my bloodstream.“Owen, I found something.”
His mouth curved as he stared at me a long moment.“You said my name.I like hearing it.”
I swallowed.Then—
I gave him a look.“Do you want to see the thing that might keep our town from being overrun by demon cow-things, or flirt with me on my front porch?”
“Why not both?”he said easily, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth.“But yes—show me.”
I grabbed his free hand before I could think better of it and tugged him through the kitchen toward the basement door.His palm was warm, callused, unnervingly nice to hold.I pretended not to notice.He pretended not to notice me pretending.
“Warning,” I said as I flipped on the basement light.“It’s a disaster zone.”
He let out a low whistle when we reached the bottom.Glassware, bowls, and vials were scattered across the worktable.Herbs and petals dusted the surface like confetti from some unhinged botanical party.The only thing neat was the wall of labeled jars.
“Look, I put everything back in its place,” I said defensively.“Mostly.”
“It’s… impressive,” he said.And there was no sarcasm in it.Just honest surprise.“Like Harry Potter’s Potions class got organized.”
“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”I set the bag of donuts on the edge of the table and snatched up the red folder, holding it aloft.“Behold.The Holy Grail.”
He deadpanned, “It’s a red folder.”
“Check what’s inside the red folder, McAllister.”
He took it, balancing the latte in one hand as he flipped it open with the other.Pages crackled.His expression shifted from skeptical to intent to faintly stunned.
“This is…” He turned another page.“These are Alice’s recipes.Full lists.Instructions.It’s her entire potion book.”
“Yup.”I popped open the donut bag and pulled out a chocolate-glazed one.“I found it in a locked drawer in the basement lab.Willow and Tani helped.”
He looked up at me.“You made the gate potion?”
I nodded, suddenly a little shy.“Took a couple tries.The first one was apparently a ‘protect the house, not the world’ blend.But we got it right.”
