Page 23 of Meet Cute Magic

“Not really a date night outfit, Jack,” he adds with a wide grin, and even if there was any confusion about whether he was truly my grandfather or not, it would be gone now. My grandfather loved nothing more than poking fun at me and getting under my skin. I look down at my green Gaming Den hoodie and khakis, not seeing much of an issue with it before realizing he’s baiting me.

“Oh, leave him be, Phillip. We’re going to get another potion ingredient,” Rosie says with an eyeroll.

“An ingredient? What’s next?” I ask, trying to change the subject to something easier, though I don’t miss the irony that witchcraft and curse-breaking potions are an easier topic right now. Rosie pulls something out of her bag before she hands over a slip of paper written in curlicue handwriting. As my eyes scan it, I realize it’s the recipe for the potion, and the first item beneath a vessel touched by the departed and dew from the days before, of, and after the waxing crescent moon is two ounces of the most expensive liquor from your local tavern. My brow furrows in confusion.

“Tavern? I don’t think we have any nearby.”

“The bar on the outskirts of town is as close as we’re going to get, so we’re heading there.”

I give her a dubious look. “Should we really be cutting corners? I don’t think this is the right time to—” I’m cut off by her words and an irritated glare that doesn’t hold the heat I would expect.

“Which one of us knows magic?”

“Allegedly, you,” I say with a smile, unable to stop myself from poking at her a bit. She gasps in faux outrage.

“Allegedly? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I smile at my well-placed barb. This feels like more even footing; in our small interactions over the years, she’s loved to tease and poke at me. I’m learning, and I love it just as much. “I conjured your grandfather, Jack.”

“Allegedly,” I say with a shrug. “I wasn’t actually there for that.” She smiles and shakes her head, and I think she is enjoying it just as much as I am. My grandfather looks from me to Rosie, and a mischievous smile I’ve seen before spreads over his face. It was the one he used a lot when he was trying to convince my mom and dad to let him take me on some wild adventure. He’d start by suggesting something so totally outlandish that when he suggested his real idea, they would jump at it.

“Oh, this is fun. You know, your grandmother and I were like this, always arguing back and forth. Kept things interesting.” That grin spreads further, and dread curls in my gut as he floats to Rosie. “You know, if I recall, my boy always had a thing for redheads. This could be a good time—” I glare at my grandfather and cut him off before he can continue, before Rosie has something new to tease me about.

“Okay, on that note, it sounds like we have a tavern to find. I’ll drive,” I say, turning toward the door. “I have to get my keys and lock up.”

“I’ll come with and we can leave from there,” Rosie says, lifting a bag over her shoulder and turning to Percy, pointing a finger at the cat. “You stay here. Be good.” The cat blinks at her, but she nods, seeming to take that as a response.

“Don’t hurry home! Take her out for a proper meal!” my grandfather calls after us. I roll my eyes, opening the door. And I could be imagining it, but there’s a self-satisfied smirk on my grandfather’s lips as I wave to him, holding the door open for Rosie as she walks out before me.

“You’re not going in there,” I say twenty minutes later as we park outside of the old, run-down bar on the outskirts of Heartwood Hollow. “It looks like you’d get caught in a bar brawl the second you step in there.” While I knew of its existence, I’ve never actually ventured out to this side of our very small town, never needing to, and right now, I’m grateful. It looks so run-down; if the lot were empty, I’d think it was permanently closed.

“It’s not as bad on the inside,” she says, and finally, I stop looking at the health code violation and turn to her. She’s staring at the building like it’s bringing back a flood of memories, and my brow furrows.

“You’ve been in there? Were you held at gunpoint and forced inside?” In disbelief I take in the pastel colors of her outfit, her coat long forgotten in my backseat, a floaty dress that ends just above her knees, with long sleeves and a scoop neck, and a pair of pretty heels with flowers on them, her red hair flowing down her back in soft waves.

Rosie Mayfield is not a biker babe, not in this lifetime.

“My ex owns the place,” she grumbles, still glaring at the run-down building.

“You dated the person who owns this shithole? You, Rosemary Mayfield, of the romance bookstore and constant sunshine?” She turns and smiles at me, wide and knowing.

“You think I’m constant sunshine?” My blush returns with a vengeance, something only Rosie can manage, it seems.

“Everyone in Heartwood Hollow knows you’re constant sunshine, Rosie. It’s not me pointing out anything but the obvious.” She raises her eyebrows like she isn’t buying it, so I continue. “Which is also why you can’t go in there. There has to be another place that will work.” She shakes her head.

“This is the only one, I checked with Phillip. I’ll be fine, though. I just need to get a drink, a quick in and out.”

“Did things end amicably with your ex?” She hesitates for a split second, which tells me everything I need to know: things ended anything but amicably with her ex. I groan aloud. “Rosie.”

“This is what I have to do. You were full steam ahead, insisting that you needed to help me with this. While you’re cute, I don’t think you can convince Jake to give you what we need. I probably can.”

“With magic?” I ask, trying to ignore how she called me cute and how that settled in my gut in a warm and prideful way.

“You can call it that,” she says, then starts shifting in her seat.

“What are you doing?” I ask, looking over at Rosie as she stares intently at the run-down facade of the bar while readjusting her breasts in her bra and tugging the low neckline of her dress down a bit. I’ve made an effort not to look, but with her hands adjusting the lush curves, it’s impossible.

“Preparing.”

“For what?” She turns to me with a devious smile.