“Mugwort for Samhain mostly,” she said. “And bayberry, for Yule. It’s months away still but bayberry is finicky.”
“You can grow mugwort that fast? Samhain is this weekend.”
Bryony shrugged. “Depends on the plant. Mugwort is practically like a weed. It doesn’t take much magic to get it growing hot and fast. So a week is about all we need, sure.”
“But bayberry is different. It’s temperamental?”
“It soaks up more magic and it takes more time to grow overall. It’s not something that can be rushed. Other greenery, you can nudge it along a bit and get it to cooperate. Bayberry always had a mind of its own though. It won’t do anything it doesn’t feel like doing when it’s good and ready. You have to be very gentle and very patient with it.”
Sean nodded with a small thoughtful sound, as if what Bryony had just spouted was fascinating to him and he was mulling it over.
Bryony was shocked with herself for talking so much to Sean. She should have just given him a simple answer to placate his curiosity. Instead, she had prattled on and on, caught up in how comfortable she was talking about plants and the earth.
“Why?” Sean said.
Bryony raised her eyes. “Why what?”
“Why are some plants pickier than others?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t you say you had skills in earth magic?” Bryony’s tone turned bitter and impatient. “What are all the questions for?”
“Well, I can grow the basics—the usual herbs, like basil, chamomile, sage, that sort of thing. And a few vegetables, of course. Nothing fancy. But the rest of it is a mystery to me. And I don’t really have as deep an understanding of earth magic as you seem to. I don’t know what makes plants tick and I figured if I’m going to be sticking around at Pagan Posies, I’ll need to know that kind of stuff.”
Bryony squinted at him. “I don’t expect you to stick around for long.”
Sean blinked. His shoulders sagged slightly and she could have sworn she saw disappointment and…hurt in his eyes. But then it was gone and maybe she hadn’t really seen anything at all.
“What’s with the act?” Bryony said.
“Excuse me?” Sean replied, all blissful ignorance.
“Back at the house, you were flattering my entire family left and right.”
“Last I checked, it’s not a crime to compliment your host. Or your boss.”
“Okay, but now you’re acting all weird.”
“I’ll take that as high praise.”
Bryony huffed. “You know what I mean.”
Sean crossed his arms, chin tilted at a challenging angle, as if daring her to continue.
“I’m afraid I don’t actually,” he said. “Enlighten me. How am I acting weird?”
Bryony gestured at all of him with flailing hands. The more frustrated she felt, the more agitated she became, like she was spooling tighter and tighter and Sean’s presence alone was bringing her to the brink of snapping.
“You’re being…” Bryony floundered and trailed off.
“Nice?” Sean offered.
“Sweet Hecate have mercy,” Bryony muttered, throwing her hands up in the air. “You are so irritating.”
Sean ducked his head with a little laugh. “You’re really cute when you’re angry.”
She jabbed a finger in the direction of the weed patch.
“Get to work, O’Hara,” she said.
Sean shrugged. “Yes, boss.”
This time, Bryony didn’t correct him. At least it was better than Bry.
Sean drew his wand from the pocket of his vest and began to speak a spell to select the weeds from the good plants. But Bryony reached over and plucked the wand out of his hand.
“Nope,” she said. “No magic.”
Sean’s good humor finally wavered and his tone took on an edge of annoyance.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said. “You just said that you used magic to grow things around here.”
“I do,” Bryony said, sliding her hands in the back pocket of her jeans. “All the time. But not for weeding.”
“Why not?”
“Because using magic on weeds is a bad idea, especially when it’s in an enclosed space like this greenhouse. The magic could go haywire or leak onto the other plants and kill them. Or you could sterilize the soil by accident. So,” Bryony said, bouncing forward on her toes, eager to deliver the final blow. “You will weed by hand.”
Sean stared at her for a moment. Then his gaze dropped to the overgrown garden bed.
“But it’s…huge. It’ll take me all day.”
Bryony hummed. “Better get crackin’ then.”
She hitched herself up to sit on a nearby potting bench, swinging her legs back and forth. A patch of Queen Anne’s lace brushed against the bottom of her boots with large, round flower heads.
Sean glanced up at her.
“I take it since you’re sitting all the way over there that you’re not going to be helping me,” he said.
“I’m afraid not,” Bryony said. Hell’s bells, it felt good to have the upper hand on Sean for once. She planned to make it last for as long as possible. “Someone has to supervise the newbies like you. And that will have to be me.”
Sean rolled his eyes. “You sound so broken up about it, too,” he replied in a dry voice.
Bryony grinned.
“It’s grueling work. But someone’s gotta do it.”
Sean blew out a laugh and shook his head. He shrugged off his vest and hung it on a hook by the door. He wore only a white t-shirt underneath that stretched tight across his shoulders as he crouched down on his hands and knees and began weeding the bed by hand.
No, Bryony thought. He definitely wouldn’t last the week at Pagan Posies, especially since she fully intended to work him to the bone. But at least she would enjoy every minute of it.
CHAPTER SIX
Bryony should have known her victory would be short-lived. She had too many siblings who liked to keep her humble and down to earth the moment she let pride get to her head.
By one o’clock, the faint clap of the cottage’s door up on the hill signaled that someone would be arriving at the greenhouse soon. Bryony slid off of the bench and waded through the plants to the door, nudging aside herbs and gourds that bumped against her legs like puppies eager for attention.
She opened the greenhouse door and poked her head out to see the quietest of the Torres siblings, Olive, coming down the hill. She carried a tray tightly gripped in both hands—no levitation for her. She was two years older than Basil, but she preferred to perfect her spells in private, on her own time. And she wasn’t interested in showing off to anyone, especially when strangers were around.
Following behind Olive was Seline, bouncing on her tiptoes as she practically ran down the hill, no doubt eager to see Sean again.
“Something smells good,” Bryony said, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe.
Olive smiled shyly. “Butternut pot pie with sage and rosemary. And for dessert, pumpkin chocolate mousse.”
“With that special whipped cream of yours?”
A pleased flush colored Olive’s cheeks. She nodded. “I know how much you like it.”
Her steps slowed as she approached the greenhouse and her smile faltered. Unlike Seline who did everything fast, Olive chose to take more careful routes of consideration. And when it came to meeting people she didn’t know, she preferred to keep her distance as often as she could.
“You can take this now,” she said.
Seline didn’t hesitate. She barreled into the greenhouse and tackled Sean in a bear hug. She latched onto his back, wrapped her arms around his neck.
Bryony took the tray and Olive retreated, peeking around the doorway.
“Thank you for the lunch, Olive,” Bryony said.
“You’re welcome,” Olive whispered.
As she turned to go, Sean spoke.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he called out.
/> Olive froze, shoulders rising toward her ears. Every line of her body screamed that she wanted to make a run for it. But she had been raised better than that and despite her shyness, she wouldn’t be rude.
Slowly, she crept into full view, curling her fingers around Bryony’s wrist for comfort, to ground her in something familiar as she faced the unfamiliar territory of Sean’s presence.
“I’m Olive,” she said softly.
Sean hoisted Seline on his back a little higher as he stood. He turned toward Olive and gave a deep bow.
“I’m Sean,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He pointed to the tray. “Are you the chef?”
Olive shuffled, her scuffed black boots toeing at the dirt.
“Just the whipped cream,” she said. “And the mousse.”
“Basil and I made the pot pie,” Seline declared proudly.
“I’m sure it will be delicious,” Sean replied. He patted Seline’s arm and smiled at Olive.
Olive went wide-eyed and glanced up at Bryony as if to say, help me.
“I’ll bring the tray up when we’re done with the food,” Bryony said. “You can go, Olive.”
Olive released a breath of relief and bolted.
“Was it something I said?” Sean said.
“She doesn’t really have a high tolerance for flattery,” Bryony replied as she picked up her dish of pot pie and a fork. The bowl was pleasantly warm and the food gave off the rich scent of spices.
“It was an honest compliment,” Sean retorted.
Bryony hummed but chose to not dignify that with a response. Her gaze shifted to Seline, still clinging to Sean’s back like a barnacle.
“So,” she said. “Olive brought lunch. But what’s your purpose for being here, Seline?”
Seline tilted her chin up, defiant. “Mom told me to ask Sean if he would like to stay for dinner. And Olive is too shy to ask.”
“He doesn’t want—“
“I’d love that,” Sean cut in.
Bryony grumbled into her pot pie with a pointed jab of her spoon into the crust.
Seline hooked her chin over Sean’s shoulder to get a peek at the greenhouse’s bed that was halfway finished. She wrinkled her nose and slid off of his back to the ground.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“Weeding,” Sean replied. “It’s part of my job in order to keep the plants healthy.”
“Well, I know that. I meant, what are you doing weeding by hand?”
Bryony’s gaze shifted to the side and she didn’t look at Sean even though she could feel him staring at her in utter silence.
“I was told,” Sean said slowly, with sharp emphasis. “That it was safer. If I used magic to weed, I might hurt the other plants.”
Seline gave a short laugh of disbelief.
“That’s just silly,” she said. “Besides, it would go so much faster if you weeded with magic. And you don’t get all…” Seline flapped her hand at him. “Sweaty.”
“Seline,” Bryony said. “I think I heard Mom calling you.”
Seline glanced over her shoulder at Bryony.
“I didn’t hear anything,” she countered.
“Why don’t you go check anyway? Just in case.”
“I’d rather—“
“Now.”
Seline stomped past Bryony but before she reached the door, Sean spoke.
“Thank you, Seline,” he said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
Seline’s foul mood vanished in an instant at the praise. She clasped her hands behind her back with a smile at Sean. Then she shot a look at Bryony as if to say, at least someone appreciates my effort.
Bryony still couldn’t bring herself to meet Sean’s eye. A weighted silence had settled between them, rendering Bryony’s breathing overly loud in the stillness. She concentrated all of her attention on her pot pie, poking at a gravy-covered lump of potato.
And yet, even though she wasn’t looking at Sean, her body was rigid, skin buzzing with the realization that there was no ready quip or sarcastic remark on her behalf being made to ease the tension of the situation.
Finally, Bryony raised her head. Sure enough, Sean was staring at her, just as she had suspected.
“You lied to me,” Sean said.
Even though it was spoken lightly, there was still bitterness beneath his words.
“It’s routine for new hires to—“
“Don’t even try it, Bryony,” Sean cut in. And this time, there was no mistaking the sharpness of his tone. He sighed and closed his eyes.
“Don’t placate me, all right?” he said, soft and quiet. “You’re putting me through the grinder because of the hell I put you through during school. I get it, okay? Revenge is sweet.”
Bryony shoved away from the bench and pushed her food aside, appetite forgotten as anger boiled hot in her belly.
“Well you certainly deserve it,” she countered. “You never got in trouble for how you harassed me. You never apologized. I think it’s high time that you got what was coming to you.”
“Look, I’m not exactly proud of the way I acted back then.”
“Good. You shouldn’t be.”
“But do you really think the grudge war is necessary?”
“Absolutely. Besides, you were the one who came to Pagan Posies looking for work. There are plenty of other places in Wildemoor where you could get a job. But you insisted on taking the position here.”
Sean spread his hands. “Your mom said you needed help for Samhain.”
“Come on, Sean,” Bryony said, crossing her arms. “Don’t pretend like you’re not toying with me right now like you always have before. You’re not lending a hand out of the goodness of your heart. You’re looking for an opportunity to pester me. Again.”
He sputtered a laugh and turned away, running a hand through his hair. When he’d shown up at her door that morning, he had been polished and put together. His shirt had been clean and free of wrinkles, still smelling faintly of soap, as if he had just washed it. His hair had been perfectly combed back, swooped off to one side, tucked neatly into place.
Now, that image was lost. His shirt clung to his shoulders and back with sweat. His hair was damp and hung loose over his forehead. He looked…frazzled. Irritated. And most of all, he looked lost and confused.
“No, Bryony,” Sean said at last. “That’s not what I came here for. You’re so far from the truth and you don’t even realize it.”
The heat had gone from his tone, leaving his voice hollow and faint with defeat or acceptance, Bryony couldn’t tell which.
“Then what is it?” she said. “What do you want?”
Sean raised his head and met Bryony’s gaze. Seconds ticked by and he said nothing else. He took a slow, measured step forward until he was standing in front of her, barely six inches away. He leaned closer, reaching one arm around her. And for one horrifying second, she thought, he’s going to try and kiss me. He’s insane.
Bryony twisted to the side, her hand coming up to push him away. But Sean pulled his wand from where she’d tucked it in her back pocket. Within the blink of an eye, he had already moved back, putting distance between them again.
“I came here to pull a few weeds,” he said, turning his back on her.
But the way he said it, barely audible and without the usual eye contact, made Bryony believe he had meant to say something else entirely.
CHAPTER SEVEN
For the rest of the day, Sean ignored her. He cracked no jokes and made no comments about her. He listened to every order and direction Bryony gave, following through without saying a word. Not even “Yes, Bry,” or his usual cheeky, “Yes, boss.”
Just silence.
It was a version of Sean that Bryony hadn’t seen before. He was so…sullen, as if the sun of his personality had been cast into gray shadows by clouds.
Bryony hated that it made her uneasy. Why should she care what Sean O’Hara thought of her? She could hold a grudge against him as long
as she wanted to. If he didn’t like it, maybe he should have treated her better, or apologized, or done something else besides targeting her for his tortures.
I should appreciate the peace and quiet, Bryony thought. She felt as if she was simply waiting for the eye of the storm to pass and the hurricane of Sean’s remarks to pick up again.
By sundown, both greenhouses were thoroughly weeded and the beds primed and ready for planting the next day. Seline came barreling in and caught Sean’s hand, tugging him toward the door.
“Dinner’s ready!” she said. “Come quick, before it gets cold!”
Sean laughed and scooped Seline up, swinging her onto his shoulders. The transformation was so sudden—from sulky silence to bright and charming—that it left Bryony’s head reeling. How could he keep up that act for any length of time? It looked exhausting.
Bryony lingered in the greenhouse among the comforting company of the herbs as long as she could, snipping off dead buds of sunflowers and scouting for beetles amid the potatoes. For the first time that day, there was no Sean in the periphery of her vision and it was nice to finally be alone.
But then the thundering echo of the cottage’s back door slammed open. Seline shrieked from the porch.
“Bryony! Dinner is ready, right now! I’m hungry! Hurry up!”
Bryony sighed and trudged up the hill to the cottage. She kicked off her boots by the door with a dozen other muddy boots and stepped inside.
Her entire family was seated at the massive oak table in the dining room. Naomi was passing a giant pot roast around, levitating the old blue-black cauldron while each child scooped out their favorite parts—leeks for Basil, extra potatoes for Olive, only carrots and meat for Seline.
But there was no placemat for Bryony. Sean had taken her usual seat and he was already deep in conversation with her father, Galen, about the apple trees and preparing them for the winter ahead.
“Oh, Bryony, honey,” Naomi said. “You’re finally here. We weren’t sure if you were going to join us so we gave your seat to Sean. Don’t you have an extra chair in your room? I wasn’t sure and I didn’t one to send one of the kids up there for it. Those stairs are so tricky to navigate, especially carrying something as bulky as a chair.”
Spelled Kiss (Coven Corner Book #2) Page 4
