Page 6 of Meet Cute Magic

“Well, you’ll need to gather some ingredients.”

“Ingredients?”

“Yes, yes, for a potion. Simple things, you know. A hair from the most powerful man in town, three a.m. moonflowers, tears from a vampire—” he starts.

“Are you kidding me?” I glare at him.

“They should be relatively simple to find.” He waves his hand like it’s no big deal. He tips his chin to my desk in the corner. “Do you want to grab a pen?” I stare at him, then at my desk, before sighing.

“In a second,” I say, crossing my arms. “Once I have the ingredients, then what do I have to do?”

“Well, you have to brew it up on the next full moon, then I drink it.”

“You drink it? But you’re a ghost.”

“This kind of potion, I can drink,” he explains with a wave of his hands.

“And what, then is the curse broken?”

He nods eagerly. “Once I pass on, all of my curses are broken. Your curse will be broken.”

“Forever?”

He nods again.

“And I won’t remember my past heartbreaks? They won’t hurt anymore?” I’m so over the pain, the dread of it all. That might be the best part of breaking this curse, after all: not the promise of new love, but the relief from the past disappointments.

“You won’t feel the pain of your past heartbreaks, and the first person you date after the curse is broken will be your true love.” I furrow my brow, not really believing it. “Same as how your magic works,” he says, and I raise an eyebrow. “If they have pure intentions and are ready for love, they’ll find you first, and it will work out.” I sit on that, but I can’t argue his logic. He’s right: it’s exactly how my own magic works, after all.

And I desperately want this curse gone.

“Do you promise?” I ask, knowing a promise between a witch and a warlock is unbreakable.

“I promise, Rosemary Mayfield, on the life of my own line, that the Mayfield curse will not exist in any regard when you brew this potion for me.” His words are so specific, as if he knows I’ll look for loopholes and trip wires, and I stare at him for what feels like an eternity, his spirit floating before me, before I decide to go for it. True love is worth the risk, after all. Right?

I nod, stepping back and grabbing my pen and notebook, writing each obscure ingredient down as he rattles them off.

“So, waxing crescent dew, hair from the most powerful man in town, the most expensive liquor from a local tavern, moonflowers collected under a full moon, tears from a vampire, a sweet exchanged in harmony… what else?” He smiles then, and I know I’m going to regret thinking this would be simple.

“And finally, I need you to get a vessel I touched when I was alive. That’s the only way I’ll be able to hold the potion and take it.”

I stop writing and glare at him. “Are you fucking kidding me? How am I supposed to—”

“Calm down, little witch. My grandson has a flask of mine. You might know him. His name is Jack Haggerty; he owns the Gaming Den.”

CHAPTER 3

Rosie

49 days until Halloween

There are thirty-three steps across the cobblestone road between Meet Cute Magic and the Gaming Den. I know because as I walk over, shoulders back and a friendly smile plastered on my face, I count them.

According to Phillip, his family’s magic line ended with him, so he kept his warlock status a secret. Magic is typically inherited, so it’s incredibly rare for a warlock to be born unless both his mother and father hold magic. Because Phillip married a normal, mortal woman, neither of Jack’s parents held magic. That helped me sleep a bit better, knowing Jack did not have any magic in his veins to curse me with.

Jack Haggerty has hated me since I opened Meet Cute Magic three years ago. The Gaming Den had been there for a little over a year when I opened up shop, and he wasn’t very impressed when I started painting my storefront with the happy teal color I had chosen. Every time I waved hello, he would grimace, grumble under his breath, or ignore me altogether. I figured he was shy, so I said hello every time I saw him, but it never changed. And with each passing day, his attitude got under my skin more and more.

No one has ever disliked me. I’m perfectly, undeniably, supremely likable, in fact.