Page 87 of Flirty Fall Fling

Gray eyes meet mine. “Very, very interesting.”

Blaire waits patiently. I read the sign above the counter with the woman’s name. Sophia Sanderson, the original Sanderson sister. She also claims the title Generational Witch.

“Your auras.” She points her finger between us. “They’re braided in the center. Red and blue, combining to make a gorgeous purple. The same color as your ring.”

Blaire’s breath hitches as she glances down at the mood ring on her finger. A bottle falls from a shelf behind us and shatters across the floor.

“Rosemary,” Sophia whispers. “Interesting.”

Blaire rubs her arms like a chill has run over her body.

The woman cleans up the mess and walks past us with a smile.

“We should get a reading from her,” I whisper.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Blaire tells me.

“She’s too scared of the truth,” Sophia says, moving behind the register. “But you aren’t. Maybe a reading for yourself?”

“Sure,” I say with a shrug.

Blaire’s head whips toward me. “You’re a skeptic.”

“When in Salem …”

Sophia tips her chin toward the back of the shop. “Come when you’re ready.”

Blaire looks between the two of us, and whatever she reads in the old woman’s face doesn’t fully comfort her. Sophia disappears in the back.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” Blaire tells me.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, just a lot of energy in here, and I think I might’ve overdosed on it.”

I laugh. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Blaire walks through the shop, the bell ringing overhead, and I move to the back.

There’s a small table behind a velvet curtain in the corner. Lanterns light the space. I sit.

Sophia doesn’t bring cards or the ball from the window. She takes both my hands and turns them palm up, pressing her thumbs into the center. She doesn’t look at them, just at me.

“You don’t believe,” she says.

“I’m coming around.”

She presses her thumbs a little deeper. “You realize you’re dating a witch. That bloodline is older than this town.”

“I know,” I say with a smile. “She told me.”

Her gray eyes sparkle in this light. She taps the center of my palm once, the same spot Blaire traced the night of the pool. “That woman is the love of your life. The one you’ve been searching for.”

My throat goes dry, and I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You already know she’s not the love of your season.” She keeps going. “Your future. Your forever.”

I smile; the thought almost comforts me.