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“Sorry! Think it’s in my room.”
Kayla walked barefoot down the hall and pushed open her sister’s door. The heavy scent of incense clogged her nose, and she pulled back with a grimace. Trying not to breathe the thickly laced air, she popped her head in.
“What the heck did you blow up in here?” she choked, surveying the disaster that was Opal’s private space. Spilled stacks of books, candles, and baggies of what looked like old roots cluttered the floor, while discarded clothing in shades of black and gray lay strewn over her futon and trunks. At the center was a large table used for casting and apparently as a vanity as well, seeing as her missing brush sat in a basket on top.
The heavy tread of her sister’s black boots sounded behind her and then Opal was edging past, gingerly stepping around the debris to crack the window. “It’s not that bad.” She coughed a few times. “Okay, maybe it is.”
Stepping over to the table, Kayla smiled at what she guessed was one of Opal’s spells. “Hey, this looks cool.” Two stones, tied with ribbons, were held in place by a hardened pool of red candle wax. The picture would have been perfect if it weren’t for the clump of half-burned hair that had gotten into it. “What’s it supposed to do?” she asked, trying to pull the hair free.
“Don’t touch that!” Opal snapped, lunging in to swat her hands away then hovering over her rocks like an expectant mother.
Kayla grinned and, hands raised, headed out of the room. Opal had been dabbling in witchcraft for years now, and Kayla suspected it had something to do with feeling a little left out of the otherworldly connection running strong between she and Aaron. It made sense that Opal would want her own thing, Kayla just wished it had worked out for her better. To date not a single spell cast had taken and she was starting to suspect her little sister had a better chance of burning the apartment down than working any actual magic.
On that note, she pulled out her phone, and made a note to pick up an extra fire extinguisher.
“Still mad at Aaron?” Opal asked, following her back to the kitchen.
“I’m not mad.” Kayla poured herself a glass of water and took a long drink. “I just don’t appreciate my big brother haunting every guy to cross my path. I’m twenty-five years old, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting a little lip action now and then.”
Opal raised a brow, amusement dancing in her violet eyes. “A little lip action, huh?
Her eyes went wide, and she looked at her sister, alarmed. Because yeah, where the heck had that come from?
Sure she’d appreciated the flirt—at least before Aaron’s ring in the ashtray reveal—but that was as far as it went. The wine distributor didn’t cause her make-out-o-meter to ping. No one really did. Not since Rafe.
But as she stood there, her lips tingled as the idea of a steamy make out session with…someone…set up shop in her mind. Which was nuts, because that kind of thinking would all but guarantee another run-in with her brother before the night was through. No kiss was worth that.
Opal gave her a quick peck on the cheek and winked. “No, there’s nothing wrong with it. Don’t pout. You’ll get a little kissy-kissy sooner than you think. Now, get downstairs. I need to get ready.”
