“Itisa job. I’m making their orders. That’s what they pay for.”
“I understand that, but you need to let them in a bit. When you’re brewing the tea, your back is always turned. They can’t see what I see—the way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating on selecting the perfect ingredients, the way your eyes shine when you know you’ve just crafted the ideal brew. The smile that lights up your face when you pop the lid on the takeaway cup or set the spoon on a saucer—the final step before you’re about to make someone’s day better.”
Her cheeks darken, and she turns her hands over, lacing her fingers through mine. The movement sends a jolt through my arms, my skin heating at her soft touch.
“I… can’t believe you noticed all that,” she whispers.
“How could I not?” I lean closer. Release a hand just so I can tuck an errant curl behind her ear, silky soft, coiling around my finger like a vine. “We’ve already proven this endeavor is much more than tossing a few leaves into a pot. What you offer here goesfarbeyond that. Your magic, you, all of it. You need to believe that for yourself, and let your customers connect with it, too.”
“My why.”
I nod, still fingering that perfect curl, still holding her hand, not wanting to let go of either. “I’m bound by the spell to help you unlock your heart’s true desire. You said it was to save the shop, but no. That’s just the ultimate goal. Your truedesireis what lies deeper than that—the magic, the passion.”
“I get what you’re saying, but… I have no idea how to do that.”
“I’ll help you.”
“You will?”
“I promise you, mushroom. I’m in it to win it. But the spell requires me to unlock your heart’s desire. So, as much as I hate to say it—andyoumight hate to hear it—Ireallyneed to understand what makes that heart tick. Because that’s it, love. That’s your why. And if we can bring it out of hiding, we might just figure out how to save Kettle and Cauldron from the chopping block.”
Another smile, and she tightens her grip on my hand, renewed hope singing through her touch. “You really think so?”
“I do.” I finally release her, mostly because if I don’t, I’m going to kiss her, and that can only end in disaster. So, turning on another smile of my own, I lean back against the shelving, cross my arms over my chest, and give her a once-over. “Nowpleaseput a pre-dinosaurian Devil out of his misery and tell me what youeversaw in Mr. Twenty-Watt Dildo the Third.”
Chapter Sixteen
VIOLET
This is a bad idea. Possibly worse than the summoning itself. And the failed banishments. And allowing Devlin to wear a suit to the café, looking so fine it’s almost as distracting as his patio-day-drinking birthday suit.
It’s worse than pretty much any idea I’ve ever had since the dawn of Violet Pepperdine. Well, except for dating Brandt last year. Nothing will ever top that in terrible life choices.
But…sigh. Devlin’s right. We need more than a marketing plan to save the shop, and if he thinks I’m the problem—that I’m getting in my own way and hiding out from my “why”—then it’s time for a new tactic.
So this is me, cracking myself wide open for the Devil.
Which soundswaymore sexy than it is.
Unfortunately.
Because the way Imeltedwhen he grabbed my hands, when he touched my hair, when he saw right down to the core of me…
Head in the game, Pepperdine. Head in the game.
Anyway. We started our new mission immediately, no time to waste. Closed up shop at five, headed upstairs, fed the kitties, and now it’s official—no more company behavior. No more politely shuffling past each other on the stairs. No more Devlin sitting in his expensive-suited fabulousness while silently observing me at work. No more me watching Charmed or reading alone in my room while he retreats to the purple couch downstairs (and steals my feline reading companions, not that I’m bitter).
From this moment forward, Devlin gets the real me, live and uncut.
And I get the roommate from Hell. Literally.
Goddess, this is crazy. But I’m in too deep now to turn back.
“Consider yourself lucky,” I say now. “No one outside the inner circle gets my homemade grilled cheese and tomato soup.” I slide the sandwiches off the griddle and onto our plates, cheese bubbling out the sides, the bread crisped to golden, buttery perfection. “This is my favorite comfort meal, especially as the weather turns colder.” I glance out the window, the rain blurring the trees into a stained-glass tapestry of reds and golds. “There’s just something so cozy about it. All that buttery goodness, the gooey melty cheesiness, the tang of the tomatoes.”
Eagerly waiting at the small table in my kitchen nook, Devlin laughs. “Well. Now you’ve gone and hyped it up to the point where it can’tpossiblymeet my over-inflated expectations.”
“Just try it.” I ladle the soup into bowls and set everything on the table, taking the seat across from him. Then, dipping a corner of the sandwich into the steaming soup, I say, “Like this. Only way to do it.”
