Page 4 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

They rounded the corner onto Pumpkin Hollow’s famous Main Street, where the smell of cinnamon rolls and fresh bread drifted on the breeze from the Wicked Whisk bakery, which had already attracted a crowd. The line stretched out the front door, with excited onlookers pointing at the enchanted sugar-moths that fluttered and dusted everyone with powdered sugar as they passed, earning a chorus of oohs and aahs from several tourists.

“Pembrooke!” Rowen called before Milo could even see him. A hand waved from above the heads of the crowd. “C’mon, make way for my friend here. He’s the mind behind my color-changing strudels.”

That earned Milo a few interested looks as he shyly ducked his head through the parted crowd.

“There he is—man of my heart,” Rowen, a Kitchen Witch, said in that comfortable, borderline flirtatious way of his. He brushed aside a lock of his bright magenta hair. “You have the goods?”

“When have I ever failed a delivery?” Milo asked, trying to return the same confident energy.

These days, his crippling social anxiety was… better. Not gone. Probably never gone. But better. And having the sexy man beside him standing sentinel wherever he went certainly helped. His change showed in his interactions with his fellow Pumpkin Hollow residents. Residents that he could now, shyly, call his friends.

“Fuck, I forgot to tell you before this morning, but you didn’t happen to bring extra Daydr⁠—”

“Daydream powder? Yeah, I got it. Knew you’d need more than what you ordered.”

Rowen’s shoulders relaxed. “You’re a doll, I could kiss you right now.”

“Try it,” Grievance growled.

“Just a joke, man,” Rowen said with a wink that had Grievance immediately stiffening. “Set the crates over there, big guy. I’ll haul them to the back in a minute.”

The Kitchen Witch flicked his wrist, sending a floating bowl and whisk gliding gracefully onto the counter. Rowen inspected the bright blue frosting inside.

“Yeah, that’s separating nicely. Couple more minutes.”

Then he snapped his fingers, and the whisk immediately sprang back to life, whipping the mixture into a perfect swirl.

“Showboat,” Grievance grumbled under his breath as he set the boxes down.

“Be nice,” Milo hissed, but was half-smiling. Grievance never took to Rowen’s loud personality.

Milo checked the order form, making sure he’d actually remembered everything. The three wooden crates were packed to the brim with giggle tonics, enchanted honey, moonlace flour, cinnamon bark, and enough rainbow jinx syrup to keep Rowen’s bakery stocked through Pumpkin Festival.

“It’s all there,” Milo said, handing Rowen the order form. “Just remember—you ordered enough jinx syrup to turn half the town’s hair every color of the rainbow.”

“That’s what I like to see,” Rowen said, scanning the list.

Business had become something of a partnership over the past year. Rowen baked. Milo brewed. Between the two of them, half the town insisted they were solely responsible for surviving flu season with Rowen’s cough syrup candies and Milo’s fever reducers.

Rowen looked to the list, then to the crates. “You brought it all in one trip? This has got to weigh a metric fuck-ton,” he said, eyeing the stack.

“Maybe for you,” Grievance said shortly. “I had no issue.”

Milo didn’t miss the way he crossed his arms, his sleeveless vest doing everything to show off those mouthwatering biceps.

Rowen looked at Grievance, and Milo wasn’t sure if there was some sort of alpha moment happening, but after a second, the tension dissipated, and Rowen nodded.

“I respect that.” Then he returned his attention to Milo. “You have your eye-candy muscle. And I have mine— hey, babe! You mind taking these to the back for me while I ring up the customers?” Rowen called behind him to the kitchen.

What Milo didn’t expect when Rowen called for his eye-candy muscle was the most petite blonde woman to dance from the back, wearing a thirties-inspired bubblegum-pink polka-dot dress, her bright blonde hair curled in a perfect bob.

“You got it, sweetie!” she said, reaching for the crates.

“Perhaps I should take them,” Grievance began, leaning over to help, but before he could, she seized the stack with inhuman speed, carrying them as easily as she would a purse.

“I’ve got it, hot-stuff.” Then she winked, flashing a pair of sharp fangs before disappearing into the kitchen. Milo got the distinct impression that she could probably throw a refrigerator. With one hand.

When Sadie was out of sight, Rowen clutched at his chest, falling back against the counter in an exaggerated swoon. “Ah. I’m in love. Vampires are so hot.” His eyes fell just behind them. “Did you bring a goat into my bakery?”