It was warmer today, and Emma hoped that the silly groundhog was right that winter was over. But really, who trusted their weather forecast to a groundhog? Only most of Southwestern Pennsylvania, that’s who.

Flint put all four bags in the back of a little red coupe which didn’t seem like it would fit him. “We can walk to the Riverside if you want to put your groceries in your car?”

“I walked. I live . . .” Did she really want him knowing where she lived? He seemed nice enough, but what if he got all clingy or was a secret serial killer? Or maybe he was one of those people who just showed up unannounced. “Nearby,” she finished.

“You can put them in my truck.” He motioned to a large white truck with wheels so tall she would need a boost to get in. He led her to the rear of the truck, while the sisters waited on the sidewalk.

“Compensating?” She handed the groceries to him and wanted to pull the word back in the moment it slipped through her stupid, loose lips.

A burst of laughter shot out behind her.

“No, not hardly. My road is muddier than a pig pen in the spring, and I have to be able to get out in case there’s a fire. And also, no complaints yet.” He stared at her, and her skin heated.

She wanted to melt into the water in one of the many potholes in the parking lot. “That’s good to know.”

“Is it now?” He slammed the truck door with a thud. “Ready for lunch?”

“I’m ready for anything.” Shoot me now, was all she could think.

“Anything,” he said under his breath.

The four of them walked along Main Street the half-block to the restaurant, which was less riverside and more river-adjacent. But still, it was cozy, with two of the walls covered in stucco and some exposed brick. A large wood log served as the mantel, and the windows were diamond-shaped bottle glass, giving the inside of the building a Tudor-like feeling.

A woman with a dazzling smile and a buxom figure raised her arms in welcome. “Vivianne and Eloise. And Flint too. Wow, and you must be the young woman everyone is talking about.” The older woman smiled at Emma. “Take a seat anywhere you want. I’ll be right over.”

“Want to sit by the fireplace?” Eloise gestured. “It has a nice ambiance.”

“Sure.” Emma nodded.

Vivianne pulled her phone from her pocket. “Oh, no. I need to go home. Can you drive me home, Eloise?”

“What is it? Is everything okay? Is it baby Drake?” Eloise put her hand on her chest.

“What? Right, yeah. Everything is fine. I just need to go home. Right now.” Vivianne hitched her head toward the door.

“Before we order? If the baby’s fine, we can get it to go.” Eloise looked back at the table.

“We’re leaving, Eloise.” Vivianne pulled her sister’s arm. “Bye Emma!” She waved.

“Bye Emma, bye Mrs. Anslem, see ya around, Flint.” Eloise bumped into a chair, and it wobbled before she cast a quick righting spell. She winked at Emma, and the door shut behind the two sisters.

Emma sat alone with the hot, grumpy, but also adorably loving to his sisters firefighter Larsen. The male had acquired more adjectives than a royal child had names and titles. Goosebumps formed along her arms. Goddess, looking at him made her want to fangirl at him. “Your sisters are . . .” She shrugged in the way one does when naming but not naming themselves or others a witch.

Flint nodded at Emma, and his eyes followed his exiting sisters. “Yup, sorry about them. They’ve never known the definition of enough. Even before.” He stopped and she wanted to ask before what? But here didn’t feel right, even with the restaurant being empty. They were in that weird period between breakfast and dinner that fluctuated on a Sunday depending on what morning youth athletics were happening or if there was a special activity in town.

Mrs. Anslem set down a large pitcher of water and handed them their menus without speaking, then glided into the kitchen like Flint and Emma were on some odd reality television program where they were going to talk about their deepest secrets without really knowing each other.

Emma gripped the edge of the table with one hand and put the menu square in front of her face with the other. She had to get it together. He was a handsome single male with a job and two sisters who liked him very much. And unlike her ex, Flint happened to know a heck of a lot about magic. She took a big breath and let it out, resting the menu next to her butter plate.

Magical blue flames trailed from her finger on the hand resting on the table, creeping across the white linen to Flint—whose face was now once again looking a lot more stoic and cranky as he stared at her hand.

10

Flint turned in his chair to locate Mrs. Anslem. He didn’t need to. He could hear her in the kitchen clinking glasses and talking to Mac who cooked here during the day and bartended at the Easy Rabbit at night. But Flint didn’t take the topic lightly, unlike Vivianne, using magic out in plain view.

“You were born a witch?” he asked.

Her face scrunched up like he’d asked her if she liked ice cream or not. “Yes, I was born a witch. Both of my parents are, and three of my grandparents. And most of my great-grandparents too.” She stared at the table where his power was now reaching for hers. “But you weren’t. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Bound.” He hoped the one word would placate her into not asking anything else. Why did she have to be a witch? Because every part of him pulled at her like a magnet. His power, his desire, they both reached for her, tugging him closer to her.

She turned to the front window, and her hair swung over her shoulder, lying over her breasts. He wanted to run his fingers through it. To touch her. Their power touched each other. Her blue a brighter hue, his more gray, almost green. It danced up off the table as high as Flint’s shoulders.

“We’re going to have to do something about that.” Emma inclined her head at the flames. Flames that, thankfully, non-witches couldn’t see.

“Right. I . . . I don’t know anything about using magic,” Flint admitted.

“Well, I’m not planning on drawing off all my power to keep yours from flowing into me.”

“Take all mine.”

Her head rocked back in shock. “What?”

“I meant it when I said I don’t use it. It’s a damn annoyance, is what it is. So go on and take it.”

She scrunched up her nose. “You trust me?”

“You planning on robbing a bank?”

“No.”

“Burning down a house?”

“No, that’s crazy.”

“Well, what then? If you had extra power, what would you do with it?”

“You saw what I do for work. Kinda, anyway. I would unpack the rest of my boxes at my house.”

“You’ve been living in Hundsburg for about two months?”

She nodded.

“And you haven’t unpacked yet?”

“I’ve been busy, and I was painting my kitchen.”

“Take it and unpack your house. Can you do it from here?” He raised his eyebrows.