by Jules Barker
Magic in the Moonlight
Jules Barker
Copyright © 2021 by Julie Pullman
All rights reserved.
Cover design: Birdie Book Covers
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
To “Young Laurel”
You know who you are.
May all your dreams come true.
Contents
1. The Pink Silk gets Handsy
2. Gran’s Got the Moves
3. New Moon, New Me
4. A Gift is a Blessing
5. Childhood Emotions
6. Dinner with the Mob Boss
7. Such a Tease
8. Kisses and Misses
9. Laying it Bare
10. Secrets and Memories
11. I’d Rather Stay Un-Enlightened
12. When It Rains, It Pours
13. Men Have Feelings, Too
14. Make-Out Point
15. Didn’t See It Coming
16. Ask Me No Questions
17. Dancing in the Moonlight
18. Delusional
19. Of Wishes and Regrets
20. Brothers Don’t Always Suck
21. Just Let Me In
22. Hide-and-Seek
23. I Can See Clearly Now
Epilogue: Men Can Keep Secrets
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
The Pink Silk gets Handsy
Laurel was not going to let a brisk ocean breeze ruin her Grace Kelly moment, but it was hard when her pale blue, polka dot dress flapped around her legs like an angry seagull as she stood at the front railing of the ferry’s top deck. At least her legs were freshly shaved. The light petticoat she wore to give her skirt a soft flounce was sturdy enough that she didn’t have to worry about it turning into a Marilyn Monroe moment instead.
She usually avoided the front of the ferry, preferring to leave it to the crowd of tourists headed to Moonrise Cove, but today was just nippy enough that they huddled out of the breeze in the galley. And she couldn’t resist celebrating.
She’d been to the mainland to meet Arturo, the antiques dealer for whom she did commissioned work. He had a piece too large to bring to the island like he usually did with the other antiques, so she’d had to travel into Portland to view the piece in his warehouse instead. It was a gorgeous Georgian gilded side-table whose provenance, if confirmed, would net him a pretty penny. A penny she could now claim a hefty portion of. Arturo had left her alone with the piece, rolling his eyes at her need to “commune with the past”, but he’d said it with his typical smile. He liked to joke about it, but he respected her process. Even after five years, he didn’t know that what he joked about was mostly correct. If reading the emotional energy absorbed by an object could be considered “communing”, that is.
The commission from verifying the piece would be as large as a month’s profit from her shop, Magic Moments. Gripping the railing in her lace-gloved hands, Laurel closed her eyes and leaned into the ocean breeze as she mentally listed the repairs to her cottage she could start just in time for summer. She was imagining a fixed front door, repaired porch steps, and perhaps a splurge on a new porch swing when she felt a soft fluttering beneath her chin. Her eyes flew open as the pale pink silk scarf she wore around her hair slipped loose and caught the breeze.
A high-pitched eep—her eternal embarrassment—escaped as she whipped around to see the scarf tumbling in the wind. She chased after it, horrified as it flew over the railing and dipped beneath the deck, then floated back up again to skitter along the walkway. Laurel ran, her petticoat getting sucked between her thighs in a petticoat wedgie as she chased down the scrap of silk.
It snagged suddenly on a big, sturdy work boot. Laurel almost ran headlong into the sturdy body attached to that work boot, but pulled up short. She heaved in a breath as, in what felt like slow motion, the pink silk square folded over itself, practically sliding up a pair of jeans and a blue-plaid button down. The fabric fluttered across a broad chest as Laurel’s heart thudded in her own. Before she could see the face attached to this solid physique, the scarf wrapped around his face and caught hold. She thought he tried to say something, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the silk plastered itself to his lips. Much like Laurel wanted to do.
Ew, girl. Get a hold of yourself.
“I’m so sorry! It slipped away!” She reached for the offending (lucky) scarf right as he did and their hands collided. She let him remove the scarf that was trying to choke him...and nearly choked herself.
“Nate?”
“Hi, Laurel,” Nate said, one corner of his mouth rising in a grin.
Her mouth hung open. She was sure she was gawking, but she couldn’t seem to stop. It was Nate. Her older brother’s best friend that she’d stupidly tried to kiss (or did kiss? Had it even counted?) right before he rejected her and left the island for ten years... She’d been trying to avoid Nate since he returned to the island a few weeks before, and in so doing, she’d not stopped to appreciate how nicely he’d grown.
“This is yours, I’m guessing,” he said, holding up the scarf.
Laurel felt a flush of heat rise to her cheeks. She snapped her mouth closed, grabbed the scarf from him, and discreetly tugged to release the skirt caught between her thighs. No need for Nate Stadler to see her looking even more ridiculous than usual.
Holding the scarf in both hands, she closed her eyes and took a quick breath. Centering her focus on the scarf, she dove into its energy, sliding through the layers until her mind was surrounded by the happy hum of contentment it had picked up from previous owners. It worked. Feeling calmed and steadied, she opened her eyes and stared right back into Nate’s green ones as they studied her.
“I guess I haven’t welcomed you back to the island yet. So… welcome back.” Laurel smiled. It was a little lame, but at least it sounded coherent.
“Thanks, Butterfly,” Nate said.
He reached out and tousled her honey brown hair. Just like he did when she was a kid.
Laurel’s smile disappeared. Although he called her Butterfly, he somehow always made her feel like the caterpillar pre-cocoon. She felt fifteen again instead of a twenty-six year old business owner with a side hustle and a fabulous vintage-style wardrobe. She pressed her lips together in what she hoped was a gracious smile.
“You’re welcome.” She nodded her farewell and turned quickly, making her way back to her large straw bag she’d left by the railing.
How embarrassing. Well, she shouldn’t be embarrassed about the scarf. It could happen to anyone and really, what was so bad about someone’s stray piece of clothing trying to strangle you? It was her lack of grace and mental acuity that bothered her. She was the star-struck kid sister again, no matter how many years had passed. Would he always see her that way?
She crouched and tucked the scarf into the bag alongside the carefully packed antiques she was taking home to identify. The ferry was docking and she’d only have to wait a few minutes before the crowds dispersed and she could make her way off the boat. Standing, she turned and nearly knocked Nate off balance with her bag.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. Again,” she said. But Nate only chuckled. What was he doing standing so close anyway? “So, um. I’m going to go now. Bye.” Laurel smiled and waved her fingers at him. As s
he walked away, he called after her.
“Laurel. Wait.” He jogged over. “Are you headed to the shop? I can help carry that bag for you.”
His green eyes were smiling, something she could tell they did often, based on the faint creases beside them. It was good that he found reasons to smile now. Thinking about how difficult his life had been as a teen made her hand itch to reach up and brush back the brown curl that tousled over his forehead. His hair looked very soft. And his eyes… his eyes looked at her, furrowed in confusion.
“Laurel?”
Heat flamed her cheeks. She’d been staring.
“No, that’s okay. Thanks, Nate. I’ve got it.” She smiled wider to prove her confidence, then turned slowly this time. A few steps away, she even turned to check that he was staying put. He stood, watching her, hands in his jean pockets. He smiled and nodded once.
As Laurel walked away, she ranted silently. She’d wanted to be calm and collected when she saw Nate again, proof that she wasn’t the little girl she used to be. Instead, she couldn’t string two coherent words together and meanwhile Nate was… unfairly gorgeous. There should be a rule that older brothers’ friends weren’t allowed to grow up into major hunks. It was unfair to younger sisters everywhere.
And now the hunk was back and she had no idea what to do with him.
2
Gran’s Got the Moves
Laurel was in such a rush to get away from her unexpected Nate encounter that she didn’t wait long enough for everyone else to disembark. She hugged the straw bag to her chest and tried to keep her distance from people as they funneled off the boat.
She preferred to be last to avoid the jostling and touching that came with crowds. She wasn’t avoiding people, exactly, but their belongings. The extra effort it took to ignore the energetic pull of objects was draining. Especially if she bumped into objects with strong memory surges.
On a good day, she could filter most things out, but she had to focus. She wasn’t sure she would handle it well in her flustered state that day. Thankfully, she only bumped into two people, who both appeared to be having chill days. No surges in anything they were carrying to take her by surprise. Once onto the dock she breathed easier. It wasn’t normally a big deal, but she definitely needed to cleanse some of the emotional residue she’d picked up this month.
While the locals knew where they were going and moved out of the way, the tourists tended to pause where the dock met the south end of Historic Main Street. Laurel took a wide arc around them and crossed over the boardwalk to the far side of the brick-paved street. Her shop was a fifteen minute walk down the pedestrian-only street and, while she could take the trolley that ran the two-mile length of the tourist district, she preferred to walk her favorite road. To the left were the quaint shops she’d loved her whole life, and to the right was the boardwalk, Rainbow Beach with its brightly colored sands, and the bay that shaped the island into a crescent moon.
Fluffy clouds drifted lazily across the mid-afternoon sun as Laurel walked and enjoyed the warmth on her skin. May brought gently rising temperatures and extra tourists—two things the island needed—and the beginning of the busiest season for her shop, Magic Moments. It was doing very well, but Laurel was glad that her antique work covered most of the bills. It allowed the shop to be good income but still fun and low stress. Gran enjoyed working the counter and Laurel had recently increased her part-timer Heidi’s hours, so she now had a little more free time. Maybe she’d visit Witch Krafts to restock her sewing supplies after altering her latest vintage find––old clothes were not made for modern hips.
Laurel’s musings were interrupted when she caught sight of Nate behind her in the window of Island Oddities. Was he following her? Should she say something?
She stopped, took a few more steps, then stopped again and turned, waiting for him to catch up. “I really am okay carrying my bag. But thank you.”
Nate’s eyebrows raised. “I believed you.”
Laurel stared him over, eyebrows furrowed. “So you’re not following me to carry my bag?”
“Nope. Just walking this way, too.” He grinned.
Laurel’s stomach did little flip-flops at that grin. Traitor stomach. “Oh. Of course.”
She was such an idiot. Now what? She didn’t want to walk beside him and chat, but it would be weird to leave now.
“We may as well walk together, then,” she said, lifting a shoulder, as if it didn’t matter to her. Stupid mouth. But she didn’t want to be rude and ignore him if they were going the same direction.
Nate’s grin widened. “Makes sense.” He gestured for her to lead the way.
They walked up Historic Main together. When her hand nearly brushed his, Laurel shifted her bag between them. She glanced around them at the tourists window shopping and the families playing on the beach––everywhere but at Nate, avoiding small talk with him. He didn’t seem to mind the silence.
If only she’d thought before now about how to handle meeting him again, how she wanted to approach reacquainting themselves, Laurel might feel more prepared. Did she want to assert herself as a grown woman now? Or let him pigeon-hole her as the little sister yet again? He’d known her practically her whole life, even if it had been ten years since they’d seen each other. That’s part of what made everything so awkward. That and how they’d said goodbye when he left the island. Now Laurel was walking beside him, unsure of how to establish their new normal.
There wasn’t far left to walk. Magic Moments was set up in a large Victorian house just past the center of Main, a mile up from the ferry. At least a third of the shops on this street were remodeled houses from the original settling of the island in the mid-1800s. Intricately carved posts, wide porches, and peaked roofs were painted in a range of happy colors. Between the Victorian shops were newer buildings, two-level boutiques, and the like. The town relied heavily on charm and a magical theme to draw in tourists, which were the main staple of commerce on the island. The idea that witches settled it back in the day was just a fun gimmick to most people, but Laurel knew there was more to the legend than lore.
Laurel and Nate passed Merlin’s ice cream parlor, Which-Witch Sandwich, and a new art gallery that moved in two years prior. How many places were new to Nate after his long absence? His presence by her side was like a magnet for her attention; she had to focus on the ground in front of her to keep herself from looking over at him. Where was he headed?
And there, on the corner of the next block, was her shop. A wide porch with a bench, two seats, and a carved-beachwood statue of a fairy with a hand-lettered sign reading: Magic Moments: accessories for yourself, your home, and your life. A wildflower garden filled what would have been the front yard of the home.
Hoping to avoid awkward small talk, Laurel stopped at the gate, effectively cutting Nate off from following her any farther. “Thanks again for saving my scarf. And the walk, I guess. Have a good rest of your day!”
Was the brightness in her voice too forced?
As Laurel bounced up the two steps onto the porch and through the open door of the store, she heard Nate’s chuckle. But she would not be baited into turning back.
Instead, she stopped just past the threshold, soaking in the reflected light of candles and mirrors against the white clapboard, the lemon cookie scent, and the happy hum of the items in the store. Small chandelier lamps, pillows, and throws. Scarves, sun hats, and necklaces. Journals, candles, and bath bombs. The store was a delightfully eclectic collection of trinkets and baubles to bring joy to anyone’s life. Laurel sighed deeply.
Gran had given her permission to revamp the store five years before when she took it on as co-owner. With clever remodeling, Laurel had opened up the floor space so each of the rooms in the house made cozy nooks without feeling closed off. Gran remained on the paperwork, but had sworn she would only be a partner in name and that she’d limit her involvement to running the counter and consulting when needed. Laurel had laughed; she’d love Gran to be as inv
olved as she wanted, but Gran thought Laurel should have something of her own to look out for. That was also the year Gran kicked her out of the house and into the cottage to “begin her life as an adult woman”.
Now Gran perched at the register on a tall stool. Behind the counter-height half wall was a tiny bedroom that now functioned as the office. Her glasses were down on the tip of her nose and Laurel watched as she bit into a piece of English toffee and turned a page in her novel. Laurel couldn’t tell what the book was, but since it was covered in brown paper, she was pretty sure it was a bodice ripper.
Passing behind Gran to the office, Laurel peeked over the page. “Count Damien’s penetrating gaze, huh?”
“Oh you hush, Dear. It’s just getting good.” Gran shooed Laurel away and popped the other half of the toffee in her mouth.
Laurel turned to pull the antiques out of her bag and put them onto her worktable. They were still carefully wrapped; she’d wait to read them until after her cleansing tonight. Behind her, she heard footsteps and Gran muttering, “Speaking of handsome…”
Turning, Laurel saw Nate—tall, masculine Nate—stepping into her decidedly feminine space. Her stomach fluttered.
No, she was a grown woman who would not be unsettled by her older brother’s friend, no matter how many years it had been or how handsome he’d become or how awkward their parting had been. She stepped around the counter and in front of him before he could speak. Bright customer service smile in place, she clasped her hands together in front of her. “Did you need something?”
