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“Fixing it.”
“I tried to fix it.” I’m on my feet again, pacing across the floor. “I came back. I made plans. I executed those plans, and still, she doesn’t trust me.”
“You came back for two weeks.Talkedabout all these so-called plans. Buying a house, dating Bexley, making her your wife, blah, blah, blah. But two weeks isn’t enough time. You’re still in my guest room, and the first sign of it not working with Bexley, you’re taking off.”
He’s right.
Damn it.
I hit the dresser drawer shut. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
Rock rises to his feet. He has a goofy look on his face as if my question is the most ridiculous ever.
He stops in front of me. His fingers dig into my shoulder. “Stick around, Johnny. Show us. You can write whatever the hell you want in your column and say whatever you want to us, but we’ll only believe it when we see it. When you stick around.”
“And Bexley? She’s made it clear she only wanted a weekend fling.”
“Prove to her you’re not only here for the weekend.” He pats my shoulder and walks away.
“Suggestions?” I call after him.
“Use your creative storytelling writing juices and figure it out.” He pops his head back in my door. “And unpack, or I’ll do it for you. I bet you’re staying and I ain’t about to lose five-hundred dollars.”
***
BEXLEY
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“HE’S TOTALLY HOT. Didyou see him?” A pretty brunette fans herself as she walks past my booth.
Her friend whistles. “Take off the jacket and show us what you have underneath. He can be my Danny Zuko any day.” The obvious Grease fan yanks up the collar of her leather jacket.
It must be a full moon tonight. All the women have gone man crazy. Either that, or I’m just so miserable I can’t even handle a little boyfriend talk. Could be a bit of both. It’s been a long week. A long week of expecting every person who entered the shop to be Johnny. A long week of wanting every person who entered the store to be Johnny. But, of course, they weren’t. Because Johnny Creed has once again proved he’s only interested in the ride.
I refill the pumpkin spice bag.
“That’s the love spice.” Clove stops my next scoop. You’re filling up the wrong bag.”
I focus my gaze on the bag in my hand. Sure enough, the cinnamon scent wafts out.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. My concentration has been crap all week, and it has everything to do with the darn spice in my hand. I drop the scoop in the pumpkin spice bag and roll up the love spice bag.
“You know, I hate this spice.”
Clove takes it away from me. “I know.” She walks behind our display table.
“No, I mean, I hate it.” I stomp around behind her. “I used to believe in this spice. I grew up thinking one day I would find my real true love and use this stupid spice, and he’d fall in love with me.” I grab the bag from my sister. “But it’s all lies.” I stare at the bag for a long time, fighting a mixture of tears and anger. “I hate it.” I throw the bag in the garbage can under the table.
“Feel better?” Clove crosses her arms over her chest.
“No.”
“You spoiled an entire order of love spice.”
“Good. We are the ones who sell it across town.We promise these lies to people, and people get hurt.” I kick the garbage can. “It’s about time we stop accepting witchy-touched spice, and we definitely stop selling it.”
Clove takes my hands in hers. “You’re too focused on how you think the love spice should work. Like it’s some instant love potion that makes a person fall in love with you.”
