“What?” she demanded.
Sean smiled and held out his hand. She stared at it like it he was diseased.
“Now that we’ll be working together,” he said. “I guess this makes us…partners.”
“You’ll be lucky if I don’t bury you in an early grave before Samhain,” Bryony replied. “And if you dare to pull my hair even once, I will knock your teeth down your throat. Is that clear?”
Sean laughed.
Saint Circe above, Bryony’s stomach flipped in anger. Poppy clutched at Bryony’s shirt with a whimper.
Poppy had always been sensitive to the sudden changes in emotion to others, crying when others cried, screaming when others screamed. But anger, especially from Bryony, tended to scare her the most.
Bryony pressed a kiss to Poppy’s forehead in an attempt to soothe her.
“After all these years, Bryony Torres,” Sean said. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
CHAPTER FOUR
It was easier to sleep than to face Monday morning and the first day of working with Sean O’Hara. Bryony burrowed deeper into her pillows against the autumn chill creeping through her leaky attic window.
The clattering thunder of feet downstairs signaled that other Torres children were awake.
At one time, Bryony used to jump out of bed and hit the ground running, not stopping until she fell back into bed, asleep within seconds. Now she moved at a slightly slower pace and it was harder to get out of the warmth and comfort of her bed in the morning.
Hazel Aven would tell her, unceremoniously, that was the sign of getting old.
A furious knock came at the door before it banged open and Seline jumped on Bryony’s bed.
“Sean’s here! Sean’s here! Sean’s here!” Seline chanted in a high-pitched squeaky voice of excitement.
“Message received loud and clear,” Bryony muttered as she curled into a ball to prevent being trampled on. “Now you can go away.”
“Not! Until! You! Get! Up!” she declared, punctuating each word with another bounce that made the bedframe squeal in protest, threatening to give way.
Bryony grabbed her pillow and smacked Seline in the stomach. Seline chortled. She jumped off of the bed and went careening out of the room at full speed, clomping down the stairs again.
A moment later, the front door was flung open so hard that it hit the wall with a deafening thud. Voices drifted up the stairs to Bryony’s attic bedroom.
“Good morning, Miss Seline!” Sean said brightly. “You are looking as radiant as the sun.”
Bryony groaned and rolled her eyes. She pulled her pillow over her head in an attempt to drown out what would no doubt be a very flirtatious giggle from Seline.
A faint purple light began to glow from the old wooden chest tucked in the corner.
“Bryony Torres,” came a soft, muted voice.
Bryony twirled two fingers upward and the lock flicked open. She cast a spell to raise the chest’s lid and reveal the crystal ball that was swirling with purple clouds, sparkling with white starry light. A face took shape in the clouds—a long, sharp nose, a full, red mouth, smooth dark hair.
“I heard you were having boy trouble,” Hazel said with a knowing look.
Hazel was the head school teacher at Windywings. She taught dozens of young witches and warlocks, from six years old to seventeen.
Bryony spent day in and day out, surrounded by the chaos of her twelve siblings. She was used to handling a variety of ages but she felt as if she was merely surviving within a hurricane, part of the whirlwind.
Hazel was the one who managed to remain calm, poised, and completely in control. And somehow, she seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to her friends. She was barely four years older than Bryony but she carried herself with such polish, confidence, and wisdom that the entire town of Wildemoor looked to her as a mother figure, full of advice and the perfect solution for every problem, no matter how complicated.
“I’m not having boy trouble,” Bryony said sullenly from the pile of blankets on her bed.
Hazel hummed with a distinct tone of disagreement.
“I’d say the return of a certain old schoolmate by the name of Sean O’Hara would certainly cause some unwanted irritation,” she said.
Bryony snorted. “Well, you’re not wrong there at least.”
“I also heard he’s grown into a fine young man since the last time he was in Wildemoor.”
Bryony groaned. “Not you, too.”
Hazel raised an eyebrow with a no-nonsense expression. In that moment, Bryony pitied any of her pupils who happened to come under that stare.
“I beg your pardon?” Hazel said coolly.
“My entire family is head over heels in love with him.”
“And I take it you’re not.”
Bryony rolled over onto her stomach, propped up on her elbows.
“Hell’s bells, no. He runs his mouth and spouts flattery as easy as breathing.”
“Some witches appreciate a few compliments now and then,” Hazel pointed out diplomatically.
“Hazel,” Bryony said with a look. “This is smothered in saccharine fake-sweetness. He’s buttering up my family to get on their good side. I don’t expect anything good to come out of his employment here.”
Hazel went silent. Her cranberry red lips pressed into a thin line. She blinked once, twice. Despite the perfectly placid expression to her face, carefully schooled to maintain her composure at all times, no matter what surprise was thrown her way, Bryony caught the glint of confusion in her eye.
“I’m afraid you’ve lost me, Bryony,” Hazel said.
Bryony wrinkled her nose. “Sean was looking for a job. He brought Mom a pie. Seline blabbed that we had a position open.”
“So he’s working at Pagan Posies now. Interesting.”
“I give him twenty-four hours at the most,” Bryony said, flopping back onto her bed.
“Why do you think that?”
“Trust me. If I know Sean, he’ll bail as soon as I put him to manual labor.”
“Well, don’t work him into an early grave, Bryony,” Hazel said in amusement.
Bryony grinned with an evil little laugh. “Now that’s a good idea.”
“Don’t. There will be all sorts of legal problems with getting rid of the body. Such a hassle.”
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Bryony countered. “And here I thought your love life was spotless.”
Hazel shot Bryony a narrow-eyed look.
“Bryony Rose,” she said and that’s when Bryony knew she was in for a stern talking to when her middle name was brought into the conversation. “Love is never spotless. It might be beautiful but it’s a mess. Kind of like murder.”
“You almost sound like idealistic Sky there for a moment. And then you mentioned the murder part and you definitely sounded like me.”
“I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“My lack of fashion sense still hasn’t rubbed off on you so I think you’re safe.”
“Thank Saint Circe for that,” Hazel replied with a smile.
She was gorgeous when she smiled. Serene and softly glowing, but intimidating in a different way, as if the peace that emanated from her was as far out of reach as the stars or the moon.
Bryony often wondered how Hazel could still be single when men flocked to her like a moth to the flame—quickly spurned and blown away like ashes in the wind. But Hazel had repeatedly stated that she wasn’t interested in settling for just anyone. If she chose a lifelong partner, he would have to meet her eye-to-eye, just as calm and composed as she was.
So Hazel remained outside of a relationship status and no one dared to gossip about it around Wildemoor. She shut down talk in the blink of an eye.
“Anyway,” Hazel said. “I just wanted to check up on you after I heard Sean was staying in Wildemoor. I know Sky has been…distracted and that must be hard on you, not having her around as much.”
&nbs
p; “She’s spending time with Aiden. I can’t fault her for that. He’s been giving her magic lessons on the side. Her spells have improved since they got together.”
“You sound as if you resent that,” Hazel said quietly. Somehow, she posed the question in a manner that wasn’t accusatory. Her tone was concerned and…understanding.
Bryony sighed. “I just…miss her.”
Hazel nodded. “So do I.”
Bryony, Hazel, and Sky had been best friends in school together. They each had their separate magical strengths that took them in different directions.
Sky was a tea witch, focusing on divination of the future through reading tea leaves and tarot.
Bryony was a hedge witch, working with the earth and greenery.
And Hazel…
Well, Hazel was good at whatever she sent her mind to.
A polite knock came at the door of Bryony’s bedroom. Whoever was on the other side actually waited for a response so it couldn’t be a sibling.
“I have to go,” Bryony said.
She raised her hand, palm out, to lower the lid and close the crystal ball into darkness again. If she didn’t keep it locked, her siblings could get into it and spy on anyone around the world which would be a nightmare.
Hazel blew Bryony a kiss.
“Hang in there, Bryony,” she said. “And if you need help with Sean, let me know. I’m sure a case of the phoenix mumps would straighten him out if necessary.”
Bryony laughed and waved as she locked the chest.
“Come in,” she called.
Naomi eased the door open and shifted over the threshold, leaning against the doorframe. She wore loose, flowing sky blue linen pants and an orange-gold poncho that made her look like autumn come to life.
“Sean’s here,” she said.
“I heard,” Bryony sighed.
Naomi hesitated. “But honey, you’re not moving. And you’re supposed to put him through orientation today.”
“I’m getting there.”
“Well, I don’t mean to rush but if you could get there a little faster, that would be great.”
Bryony grunted in response and flung an arm over the side of the bed, dragging herself into a sitting position. Chilly air rippled over her skin, sending a trail of goosebumps up her back. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders like a cape as she swung her legs over the bed. But her toes curled away from the cold floor.
Naomi flicked her fingers upward like she was throwing pixie dust in the air. A cup of hot, fresh, steaming coffee floated into the room in a purple and green mug, painted with the face of a black cat and eyes that glowed yellow with magic.
“Maybe this will help,” Naomi said. “I know this is your dad’s position, keeping tabs on the new hires. But he really appreciates that you’re taking on Sean and showing him around.”
Bryony hid a grimace in her coffee. She wanted nothing more than to foist this whole thing back onto her father. But since her parents were both grateful to her for training Sean, she knew there was no way out of it. She was stuck with the position for good.
“Anyway,” Naomi said, resting her folded hands atop her rounded stomach. “I’ll let you get dressed. Seline and Poppy are entertaining Sean for the time being. But the sooner he can get to work, the better.”
“I’ll be down in two minutes,” Bryony said reluctantly.
“Thank you,” Naomi said softly as she slipped out of the room and eased the door shut behind her again, leaving only the scent of baby powder, lavender, and magnolia behind.
Bryony took one minute of her allotted two minutes to enjoy her coffee in silence. Alone. If she was going to suffer Sean’s company all day, every day for the next week, she would need every scrap of time to herself she could get her hands on. She wouldn’t surrender a second of it unless she had to.
But the one minute of solitary confinement passed all too quickly. Bryony set aside her coffee and rummaged around in her dresser for fresh clothes—a black Samhain sweater that nearly came down to her knees, with a pair of white fangs and red ribbon stitching dripping down the front. In garish red letters underneath, it read, BITE ME.
It seemed perfectly appropriate for her first day of working with Sean.
Bryony didn’t bother looking in the mirror and she didn’t bother with her hair. She simply slapped her witch hat atop her head, yanked on her boots, and stomped down the stairs.
“Hark, fair maiden.”
Bryony slowed to a stop at the voice. Sean came into view at the base of the stairs, one hand pressed to his chest, the other hand extended in a Shakespearean pose.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Bryony said in a flat voice.
Sean was undeterred.
“Thou makest mine heart beat wild and reckless with thy angelic beauty.”
Bryony narrowed her eyes and continued down the stairs until she was standing nose to nose with him. She hated that she could still smell apple pie on him—sugary sweet with a dash of cinnamon.
“I will hurt you if you don’t stop,” she said.
Sean’s hands dropped to his sides and his mouth twisted to the side in a poor attempt to hide a smile.
“Yes ma’am,” he said.
Bryony glared at him. “Do not call me that.”
“Got it…” Sean grinned. “Bry it is.”
Bryony opened her mouth to fire off a retort when Naomi appeared at the end of the hallway. She sent a cup of coffee floating down the corridor to Sean, along with two pumpkin chocolate chip cookies on a small plate.
“Take this for the road, Sean,” Naomi said. “With all the work Bryony will have you doing, you’ll need it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Torres, I really appreciate that,” Sean replied, accepting the food.
Bryony pushed past him, headed for the back door. It wasn’t until they had stepped outside that she covertly flicked two fingers. Coffee spilled down the front of Sean’s shirt and he jumped back, arms extended out to either side, swearing under his breath.
“Get a move on, Prince Charming,” Bryony said. “We have things to do. Can’t have a dawdler on the premises. That’s not what you’re getting paid for.”
Sean cast a short, hurried spell to clean himself up as quickly as possible and scrambled to catch up with Bryony as she descended the stairs of the porch and made her way toward the greenhouses.
If Sean was going to flattery her family endlessly, she could have a little fun with payback of her own. Starting now. And she certainly planned to make Sean O’Hara suffer.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bryony walked at such a fast clip that Sean had to jog to keep up with her. He laughed, panting and out of breath.
“Could you…” he gasped. “Maybe...slow down?”
“Nope,” Bryony replied, chin tilted up. “Got things to do. I have a business to run.”
“Yeah, but…like…we can…we can walk. Not run.”
Bryony whirled around. Sean skidded to a stop so fast that he almost crashed into her. His hand reached out and caught her forearm to steady himself. It was barely more than a light touch—only his fingertips and for no more than two seconds.
But Bryony wrenched her arm away. Sean stumbled to the side. His chest came within an inch of touching her shoulder before he managed to right himself again.
She hated how she could still feel the phantom memory of his hand on her arm, the pressure of his grip, the warmth of his skin.
“If you don’t want to work,” Bryony said. “You can leave. I’ll explain everything to Mom.”
Sean snorted. “I’m sure you would.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“You’d paint me like a moustache-twirling villain.”
Bryony squinted at him, confused. “What?”
“Nothing,” Sean said.
There was no mistaking the exasperation in his tone. The façade of charm and politeness had cracked to reveal an interior that was tense with frustration.
“Anyway,” he continued, forcing his voice to sound a bit brighter. “Where do we start?”
Bryony studied him for a moment, searching for signs that he was up to something. But he simply slid his hands in his pockets and raised his eyebrows, waiting and expectant.
“The greenhouses,” she said. “They need to be weeded. We’ll start with the herb and veggie greenhouse. Move on to the tropical greenhouse later.”
“Is there a third one?”
“Yes. But you’re not going in there.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s dangerous, full of poisonous plants that bite, sting, maim, kill.”
Sean’s eyes flickered wider. “Oh,” he said.
“Exactly. So you’ll stick to the neutral territories, got it?”
He nodded. “Understood.”
Bryony led the way to the first greenhouse and when she opened the door, a wave of humid air washed over them, chasing away the chill of the autumn morning.
Greenery spilled over the entrance, carpeted the floor, dripped from the ceiling. As Bryony pushed her way into the greenhouse, she brushed against leaves and stalks that sent up a whirlwind of scents, from earthy St. John’s wort to sweet marjoram. The plants parted for her naturally, cooing and whispering in response to her arrival.
But Sean struggled through the plants that swarmed him like ants, grasping at his hair and clothes.
Bryony came to a weed-covered patch at the back of the greenhouse. The entire bed was over fifteen feet in length and seven feet deep. Weeds towered high above her head and she could hear the roots crackling and grasping ever deeper into the earth.
She came out here last night around two o’clock in the morning when the rest of the house was asleep. A simple little growing spell had made the weeds jump to twice their size after only a few minutes in preparation for Sean’s arrival.
“This entire bed needs to be cleared out,” Bryony declared, sweeping her hand to encompass the area.
“For what?”
Bryony opened her mouth, prepared to fire off a retort that it wasn’t his job to ask what for, it was his job to simply do what he was told.
But when Bryony caught a glimpse of Sean’s face, there was genuine curiosity in his eyes. He wasn’t teasing her. He truly wanted to know the answer. And she found herself providing an honest reply.
Spelled Kiss (Coven Corner Book #2) Page 3
