by Tara Sheets
“We could lure raccoons into his kitchen,” Juliette said with a gleam in her eye. “Ooh! I could sprinkle that itching powder I have on all his restaurant chairs.”
Emma frowned. Juliette was always game for something on the darker side of mischievous, but Emma didn’t want to do anything that would make other people ill. “No, it has to be just him. If only there was a way to make him go away and never come back.”
Juliette sighed. “He’s like a garden pest.”
“‘Pest’”—Emma began gathering up her tools—“is putting it lightly.”
“No, I mean he’s like those bugs that kept damaging my roses and vegetables. They were ruining my life. But then I doused the entire perimeter of my home, including the gardens, with that herbal spell I mixed up, remember? I did it on the full moon last July, and they’ve never been back since.” She waved a hand as if swatting at a bug, and then suddenly her face lost all expression. She leapt off the trunk and stared at Emma with wide, eager eyes.
“What?” Emma watched her cousin with a twinge of alarm. That look on Juliette’s face was never a good sign.
“We could do it, you know,” Juliette whispered excitedly. “We could make a spell together. You and me.”
Emma put her hands up. “No way, Jules. Remember the last time we tried to combine our gifts? It never works out. Been there, done that.” She cringed, remembering their ninth-grade fiasco. They had tried to turn Juliette’s hair red, because her high school crush had decided he loved redheads. Emma had mixed up red velvet cupcake batter for attraction, and Juliette had added blood-red rose petals with herbs from her garden for “drop-dead-gorgeous hair.” For one week, Juliette’s skin was lobster red and the hair on her eyebrows “dropped dead” and fell out.
Juliette scoffed. “Come on, Em, we were just kids back then. I have complete control over my garden now, you know that. My plants and herbs love me. People come from all around to get my garden potions, and they work. All of them work exactly as they’re supposed to.”
“It’s too risky.” The last thing Emma wanted was to deal with some magical disaster, especially when she had so many other things to worry about.
“No, it’s not. We would be really, really careful. And besides, even if something goes wrong, he would deserve it anyway. Right? It’s a win-win situation. Admit it.”
Emma considered her cousin’s proposal. Could it work? They were just trying to get Hunter to leave, nothing more. And even if it backfired, it would most likely backfire on him, so who cared? If his eyebrows fell out, or his skin turned a little red, then it would be an added bonus. She’d enjoy watching him squirm. Besides, it wasn’t like anything truly bad could happen to him. The Holloway women’s magic was too pure to cause any real harm.
Still, so much could go wrong. Anytime they tried to manipulate magic for selfish reasons, things went awry. It just wasn’t done. Her grandmother had always warned them to be careful. Making sweet charms or garden spells to help people came as easily to Emma and Juliette as breathing. But really strong magic, the kind with ulterior motives that weren’t for the direct benefit of others? That was something else entirely, and magic like that always demanded a price. The real question was, what would the price be?
“I don’t know,” Emma said.
Juliette began pacing, excited now with her new idea. “I could mix up the spell I used for the garden pests, and you could bake it into a special cupcake with ingredients to complement it. What would you use?”
Emma considered the recipes in the ancient cookbook she kept in the kitchen downstairs. “I don’t know, something with coconut, maybe. Something to make him yearn for the tropics. He’d definitely have to get out of here if he wanted warm, tropical weather.”
Juliette clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, let’s do it, Em. I’ve been dying to combine our gifts now that we’ve mastered them. It would be so much fun.” “Fun” was a relative term. Juliette’s idea of fun was often completely different from Emma’s. But she had to admit it had its allure. The idea of Hunter Kane leaving town forever was more than appealing. It was necessary to her life.
“Maybe,” Emma said. “Let me think about it.”
“Well, don’t think too long. Summer solstice is just around the corner, and that’s when the spell will be most likely to work. Full moons don’t just hang around, waiting for you to be ready, you know. If we’re going to do it, we have to get moving.”
No, Emma thought grimly. He had to get moving.
* * *
The following afternoon, Emma took a bite of her sandwich and watched snowy gulls swoop and dive over the waves. She leaned her elbows on the picnic table and sighed in contentment. Really, was there anything more delicious than an O’Malley’s turkey and brie sandwich on toasted sourdough, enjoyed while sitting in her favorite lunch spot overlooking the water? No.
She kicked her shoes off and spread her toes in the soft spring grass. The midday sun was warm against her skin, but the breeze off the water tempered it to perfection. For exactly thirty minutes every day, she hung the OUT TO LUNCH sign on her front door and made her way to her secret spot. It was flanked by huge lilac bushes she had helped Juliette plant when they were little girls. Even at nine years old, her cousin’s ability to make things grow was an amazing thing to behold. Emma still remembered helping Juliette dig holes for the lilac plants, giggling as Juliette told the earthworms to move aside, then laughing when they actually did.
Over the years, it had become Emma’s special retreat. A place for quiet reflection, where no problem seemed insurmountable. The picnic table was partly hidden from the main path and most people overlooked it, which made it the perfect hideaway. She took another bite and closed her eyes.
“I want that,” a deep voice boomed.
Emma glanced up, mid-chew, to see Hunter Kane sauntering up the path toward her. Her perfect moment took an instant nosedive.
Hands on hips, expression fierce, Hunter looked even more like the marauding pirate than she remembered. There was a savage determination in his eyes she hadn’t seen before, and he was staring straight at her . . . sandwich?
She looked down at it, then back at him as he approached.
“I want it,” he repeated. “And you should know by now, I always get what I want.” A muscle ticked in his jaw and his face seemed colder, the sharp angles more pronounced.
Emma swallowed fast and sat up straighter. This guy was a real piece of work. Who the hell did he think he was? First he weaseled his way into her shop, getting her to give him “Sweet Success,” and now he demanded her lunch?
“No,” she shot back. “Get your own.”
He scowled and shook his head. It was as if her words didn’t even register. Figured. A guy who looked and acted like him probably didn’t understand the meaning of the word “no.” His gaze shifted to just beyond her left ear. Oh, now he was pretending he didn’t see her?
“That answer is unacceptable,” he said.
Oh, re-hee-heally? Emma narrowed her eyes, then took a big, deliberate bite of her sandwich. She smiled evilly as she chewed. Two minutes ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible for her sandwich to taste any better, but now it did. Nothing like a little side of How’s-It-Feel-To-Want, Mr. Kane? to add to the delicious medley of flavors.
“Dammit, Jerry,” he barked. “I don’t care what the locals are used to. I want my place done right.”
Emma swallowed, finally noticing the Bluetooth earpiece he wore. He was now glaring into the bushes, completely engrossed in a conversation with someone else. So he was on the phone. He hadn’t been talking to her at all.
She yanked the cap off her flavored water and drank. Stupid Bluetooth earpieces. She hated those things. It was always so embarrassing when someone was yapping away, smiling and laughing, and you smiled and answered, and then they looked at you like you were a big dork for thinking they were talking to you.
He was pacing now, back and forth over the grass. Clearly, she w
as too insignificant to acknowledge. The fact that he was intruding on her peaceful spot and blocking her lovely view of the ocean wasn’t even a blip on his radar. In that moment, Hunter didn’t even see her. For some reason, that bothered her even more.
“He better damn well do it,” Hunter said, voice raised. “I want the Chihuly glass fixtures we specified. No. It doesn’t have to fit in with the rest of the wharf’s style.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “If you saw the way things looked out here, you wouldn’t even ask me that. My place is going to look good, Jerry. I have standards. Tell him I’m not changing my mind about the glass. You can offer him a bonus if he delivers by the end of next week, but that’s it.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Hunter said, “Of course he’ll jump. It’s always about the money.”
Emma shook her head in disgust. For big-city people like him, it was.
He bent down and picked up a stick, gripping it in his fist. “Nothing’s set in stone. Everyone has a price.”
He glared at the ground, the sky, the ocean. Whatever the person on the other end of his call was saying, he didn’t like it. He paced over to the lilac bushes. “Then the designer is clueless, like everyone else on this rock. Are you sure he’s from the Seattle firm? Because he’d fit right in here.”
Angry heat prickled up the back of Emma’s neck. So, that’s how he felt about Pine Cove Island. What a hypocrite. He believed the town and its people were beneath him, but he had no problem setting up shop so he could reap a steady income off it. Everything about him smacked of disrespect.
“Just tell him I’m not changing my mind. If he doesn’t want to comply, then he’s fired.” Hunter gave the lilac bush a brutal swipe with the stick. A spray of purple petals and leaves scattered across the grass. He did it again.
“Hey!” Emma said angrily. “Stop that.”
Hunter whipped his head around, startled. It was as though he noticed her for the first time. He turned back to the bushes, scowling. “Just get it done.” He swiped at the lilacs one more time and ended the call.
Emma jerked up and marched over to him. She grabbed the stick from his hand. “You’re ruining the flowers.” And my peaceful lunch. And my life.
He gave her a look that told her she belonged in Camp Clueless with the rest of the island locals. “It’s just a tree, lady. I think it’ll survive.”
Oh, he did not just call her “lady.” That was almost worse than “ma’am.” “You won’t survive,” she seethed, “if you don’t get out of here.”
“So it’s threats, now?” he said in dry amusement. “Last time you almost took my head off for eating those cupcakes. Now what are you going to do? Pelt me to death with your sandwich for talking on the phone?”
It sounded like a great idea. Too bad she still wanted to eat it. “You’re being disruptive and obnoxious,” she said through clenched teeth. “And this is my lunch spot. You’re intruding.”
He stared around the tiny alcove and scoffed. “Oh, is this your spot? I must have missed the plaque with your name on it.” He walked over to the picnic table and glanced down. “Nope, no engraved nameplate there.”
He was pissed off from the phone call, and even though Emma knew his anger was misdirected at her, it didn’t stop her from wanting to shank him with the stick.
“You know,” he mused, “I kind of like this place. It’s secluded, and there’s even a table. Maybe I’ll take my business calls here from now on.”
She inhaled sharply. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Try and stop me, Cupcake.” He strode off down the path without looking back.
Emma let her breath out in one angry whoosh. She tossed the stick to the ground. That was it. He was so going down. For the thousandth time in the past twenty-four hours, she tried to think of a way to fix the mess she was in. It was bad enough that his business was going to ruin her. The fact that he had just acted like a total jerk made her even more determined to get him gone. She hated everything he represented. Big-city callousness. Arrogance. No regard for Pine Cove Island’s community.
She plunked herself back on the picnic bench and began wrapping up her lunch. Anger trumped hunger and she just didn’t want it anymore. He’d insulted them all by calling them clueless, and he thought the waterfront businesses weren’t good enough for his vision. Sure, the shops were a bit shabby around the edges, but that’s because they had been around for decades. The waterfront provided a steady living for most of the merchants and their families, but it wasn’t exactly the latest Disneyland attraction. The people did what they could each year to spruce things up for the summer crowd, and it had always been okay.
Now he stormed in, bringing his big-city pomp and circumstance with him. He ruined everything. Juliette’s idea of combining their magic to make a “Go Away” cupcake was beginning to fit in with the reckless way Emma was feeling about him. She wasn’t reckless, by nature. She had always followed the rules her grandmother taught her. In fact, her grandmother used to tease her about following all the recipes exactly, and not experimenting with her own personal style.
“It’s okay to try new flavors, honey,” her grandmother had said. “Every Holloway brings their own special gifts, and part of the joy in having kitchen magic is finding ways to tweak recipes and make them your own.”
But Emma had preferred to stay true to each recipe, down to the last teaspoon. She didn’t want to make mistakes. She needed everything to be “just so.” Maybe it was because she had spent the first few years of her life flitting all over the world with her mother, before she was finally dumped on her grandmother’s doorstep for good.
Emma sighed. If only her grandmother were here to help her now. That woman could charm even the surliest of customers, and she never met a problem she couldn’t fix. Emma used to watch her grandmother change a recipe on a whim, altering it just a tiny bit to suit the person who needed it most. But Emma never did that. It was too risky. She liked organization and order. She liked knowing that everything had a place. And Hunter Kane had no place in her world. He needed to leave. Maybe combining magic with Juliette was the only answer.
Chapter Five
The next evening, Hunter made his way through the crowded chamber of commerce meeting hall, eyeing the long table of potluck dishes set out on festive red tablecloths. People actually cooked things for this? There were homemade pasta salads and mysterious casseroles sprinkled with . . . cornflakes. God. Platters of unevenly cut vegetables with dip. Plates of cookies, some singed around the edges from being left too long in the oven. It was an unorganized mishmash of food. No rhyme or reason to any of it.
The only notable dish was a three-tiered, china serving platter near the center of the table. Delicate pink cupcakes topped with edible flowers dusted in crystalized sugar were artfully arranged on each tier. They were exquisite, and nothing like the other dishes. Hunter had a pretty good idea who might have brought them. He casually scanned the room for the mysterious baker.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had attended a potluck. As a finance investor and owner of upscale restaurant properties, parties like this just weren’t common. Not now, and certainly not when he was a kid. His parents would have been insulted. They’d have called it gauche and blue-collar. Even after their divorce, they’d have still agreed on that. In his mother’s opinion, if a party wasn’t catered by the best, it wasn’t worth having.
But laughter and music filled the air, and although Hunter generally shied away from large social parties, there was an easygoing warmth about the crowd that couldn’t be denied. It was odd. Like everyone had known one another a long time. Like they were family. He had expected the chamber of commerce gathering to be more subdued and formal. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn the suit.
“There you are, Mr. Kane,” said a stocky man who had to be in his eighties. Sam Norton, the commerce committee chairman, had the jovial, ruddy complexion of a man who was no stranger to a strong glass of scotch. H
e had long since lost most of his hair, but his comb-over was still going strong. All fourteen strands of it.
Hunter held out his hand. “Mr. Norton.”
“Call me Sam, everyone does.” He gestured to Hunter’s suit, grinning. “Look at you all gussied up. Here, we only dress like that if we’re going to a wedding or a funeral. But you do look mighty dapper. I’d wager there’ll be a wedding in your future soon, if the ladies here have any say in it.” Sam hooted with laughter and took a swig of his drink.
Hunter nodded in resignation. Next time, he’d skip the suit. Maybe he’d burn it, just to be safe.
“Look here,” Sam said, leaning closer. “I’ve been wanting to ask about your new restaurant and café. Any plans to serve steak dishes? Gary Sawyer’s butcher shop is one street over from you and he has the best sirloin prices in town. You two should talk.” He held his glass of bourbon up to Hunter in salute and winked, downing the rest of it.
An upbeat song came on over the large speakers set up at the far end of the hall, and several people laughed and grabbed partners to dance. Hunter glanced up at the entrance and Sam’s words suddenly faded into the background.
Goldilocks stood near the door. She was in a lively conversation, laughing at something another woman said. Her golden ringlets hung loose tonight, and she wore a knockout black dress that stopped at her knees, hugging her in all the right places. And there were so many right places. Hunter swallowed hard. Damn, she was gorgeous. It was really too bad she had taken such a dislike to him. Not that he needed to be entangled with a woman, God only knew. But still, it was tough to be on the receiving end of someone that alluring when they only wanted to shoot daggers at you.
She had been so angry at him yesterday when he intruded on her private lunch spot. Granted, he’d been barking orders at Jerry on the phone, but he’d been waiting on that Chihuly glass order for weeks, and he was so frustrated when Jerry said their designer wanted to change things at the last minute. Still, it wasn’t an excuse to be rude to her. If he could go back and do it over, he would.
