Page 21 of Meet Cute Magic

“So they either talk about what I’m selling, which I’m comfortable talking about, or they keep to themselves. I can talk about dragons and card games and value of figurines or trading cards for days. But small talk? Not my thing.”

“I never noticed,” she says, and when I look at her, I expect to see the sarcasm on her face, but I’m a bit confused when I don’t.

“Because I never talk to you?”

“No, because you never seemed uncomfortable around me.” I’m a bit stunned by that, since Rosie always makes me feel out of sorts, but then a smile spreads on her lips. “I think you’re always too busy getting all cute and mad at me.” I stare at her and feel a blush burning on my cheeks without my permission, and she laughs before popping the last bite of her muffin into her mouth, checking and sliding off the counter.

“Okay, Jack Attack. Time to get this thing going.” Then she whispers something, and bags close and crumbs are swept away. I’m so distracted by her and her magic, I don’t even remember to tell her it’s just Jack.

We spend the next forty minutes together, walking to the same field as the day before, and she makes her magic visible again so I can see it move along the grass in the same breathtaking way. I use the opportunity to ask her as many questions as I can, and she answers each one with kindness and patience I’m still unused to. Today, I learned that each witch receives their magic when they’re around eight, and each witch has their own specialty, which tends to reveal itself when they’re thirteen or fourteen. It shouldn’t surprise me that romance is her specialty, something she fulfils with her romance bookstore, helping customers find their true loves by choosing a book for them.

After we get the second day’s dew, she answers more questions before we reach our street. I feel the need to walk her to her door as if this is something other than a quest to break a curse. Maybe it’s the manners my parents drilled into me or the fact that the little witch is growing on me and I want to make sure she’s safe, but I stay until she closes the door behind her, flips on the lights for her store, and waves at me through the window. I return it, fighting the smile that’s pulling at my lips before stepping back.

But when something moves in the window above her shop, I glance up to see a ghostly form move quickly out of sight, as if he’d been watching. I move my eyes down the street, ensuring no one else is around to see it, before looking at the window again. As I do, my grandfather floats up, a sheepish look on his face that makes me smile. I wave before heading to my place, already looking forward to the next day.

Day three, my front door is unlocked, already anticipating my morning visit from Rosie. She walks right in like she owns the place, a wide smile on her face that I have to force myself not to mirror. Something tells me that if I give Rosie Mayfield an inch, she’ll take a mile. If she gets a whiff that I enjoy her antics, she might keep going. The most terrifying part of that, though, isn’t that I wouldn’t like it: it’s the confusing realization that I might.

This morning, I get a pumpkin spice latte and a cinnamon roll, plus a pumpkin-shaped sugar cookie that I set aside to enjoy later. I have a big shipment coming in later today, and I’ll need a pick-me-up to endure unpacking those boxes. After her normal breakfast, she asks me a dozen questions that have stopped being about the shop and turned into an inquisition of me. We’re off on our mission, walking toward the same spot we’ve gone the past two mornings, when I start my own question asking.

“So, your magic.” I start with the question that’s been spinning around in my mind since yesterday. I keep my voice low even though no one is around. “It doesn’t work on you?” She shakes her head, strawberry blond curls swaying as she does.

“Nope. And trust me, I’ve tried.” I smile, thinking about a stubborn Rosie trying to outsmart her own magic and getting annoyed when it falls short.

“What about your sisters?” I ask, because from what I know, both of her sisters are single as well. I know she said the curse affects her entire family, and while I’m not as in tune to the town gossip as Rosie is, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of her sisters even dating. Rosie sighs deeply with the question.

“My magic works on other supernaturals, but I’m not sure if it would work on my sisters. Unfortunately for me, they aren’t interested in finding love for their own reasons. Don’t ask me why, because love is the most magical thing on this earth. My magic only works on people who are ready and willing to find love.” So it abides by free will, I suppose. Interesting. “Though, I suppose it could be the curse getting in the way.”

“Do they know about the curse?”

“No, not that I know of. I’ve never asked them if Mom told them before she passed, but they’ve never mentioned it. I’ve always grappled with when and if I should tell them, and figured I’d tell them when they have a serious relationship, but Violet dates around and says she’s too busy with the bakery for a relationship. Poppy hasn’t mentioned anything, but like I said, my magic senses neither of them is ready or looking for love.”

“Do you try anyway? To give them spelled books?”

She smiles. “They think I do, at the very least.” I lift an eyebrow, unsure of what that means, and she sighs, letting out a small laugh. “Sometimes I guilt-trip them into reading one of my favorite books so I have someone to talk to about them. I tell them that my magic felt pulled to it and I think it might be for one of them, but I’m really lying. I’ve never felt the pull to give my sisters a book. I just want them to read my favorites.” She lets out a loud laugh at that confession that’s so wholesome and so very Rosie.

“So you guilt-trip them into reading your favorite books? And they do it because they’re afraid to hurt your feelings?”

“Pretty much.” She pauses before looking at me seriously, her steps slowing. “If you ever tell, the decapitation of your warlock will look like child’s play,” she says with a menacing glare, and I lift my hands.

“Your secret is safe with me.” I don’t tell her that I don’t ever find myself chatting with her sisters, much less about magic or spells, but I don’t have time to as we’re back at the field. Like the previous two mornings, I’m mesmerized when her magic spills out onto the wet grass, gathering the dew into fat droplets that slowly rise and deposit themselves into the glass vial.

“That was it?” I ask as we approach her front door. I’m skeptical because it seemed far too easy, but what do I know about collecting ingredients for a magic spell?

“Yup. Easy as can be! One ingredient down, a handful more to go!” There’s too much cheer in her words to be casual, and it rubs off on me. I shake my head with admitted astonishment. I notice how she won’t tell me exactly what we need for this potion of hers or even just how many things there are.

“Yeah, I mean… I guess it was pretty easy. Much easier than I thought it would be, that’s for sure.”

“I am totally capable of gathering ingredients,” she adds. I nod because there’s no arguing that. Despite her chaotic nature, Rosie is very capable of accomplishing things. “So you’ll let me do it myself?” Her question catches me off guard, and I turn to her, confused. “You see that I am fully capable of gathering the ingredients on my own. I know what I’m doing. So you can just give me the flask and we can both go on with our lives.” I stare at her, a mix of impressed and aghast.

“All this was to butter me up and convince me to let you do this alone?”

“I mean, not all of it, but—”

“But a good chunk of it.”

She sighs. “I really do want you to like me. But I can do this on my own, Jack. I don’t need help, and I could do it much quicker and with much less stress if I just did it myself. I always do things by myself.” I stare at her for a long moment, and for the smallest of seconds, something flashes across her face before she hides it once more behind her happy mask. Sadness? Disappointment?

I don’t know if Rosie actually likes doing things by herself or if she’s just used to that being the case. With her parents’ passing and having to take care of her two younger sisters, something everyone in town knows about, she likely was the one to take on the most responsibility as a kid. I wonder how much of that carried into her adulthood.