I slid into the booth next to him. My habit of arguing with Ian Larson had started when we were children and picked right back up the moment I moved back into town. I couldn’t help myself. “Actually, Kat decided to stay at home himself. Lazy little creature. He needs a whole 14 hours of sleep a night or else he’s just unbearable to live with. You can’t imagine.”
A grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “No, I can’t.
“Seriously, though, doesn’t policing this small town ever get boring? I mean, the worst that ever happens here is a cat getting stuck in a tree. Or an illegal pet pig. How can you stand it?”
Maybe I was being a little condescending, but I didn’t care. Another few drinks of my hard cider and I’d let the
insults fly free. He could take it and dish it just as well.
“I don’t find it boring.” He took a long sip of his beer, sighing contently when it was finished. “Uriville’s my home. It’s always been that way. You know that. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Maybe I was projecting my own feelings about this town on everyone else, but I simply couldn’t understand his answer. “Really? Even though you could travel sixty miles in either direction from this place and get some real action? I heard Omaha even deals with mob crimes once in a while. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
His eyes twinkled with amusement as he sunk further into the plastic covered booth. “Maybe for someone else, but like I said, Uriville’s my home. There’s no place I’d rather be.”
I dropped my empty cider glass on the table in front of us and crossed my arms. “Well, I really can’t relate. I’d rather be any place but here.”
He turned toward me, our knees bumping. A flush filled my cheeks at the unexpected brief contact and I had to swallow hard to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest.
“You’ll learn to love it here, I promise. It just takes some time. Uriville could use someone like you, Hazy. Don’t write it off so quickly.”
Wait, I’d come here to chew him out about my pig situation. And now he was complimenting me? His grin, with its perfectly straight teeth and ornery tilt, was too close. His knee only centimeters from my own. My comfort zone had taken a nosedive into sweaty nervous territory.
Hopping up suddenly from the booth, I banged my knee on the table in the process. Bouncing on one leg and grasping the other with my hand, I backed away from Ian with my face scrunched up in pain.
“Are you okay?” He leaned forward, reaching out for my knee.
“I think I see Raven and Blythe dancing.” A glance over the railing to the dancefloor below confirmed the excuse. My cousins had taken up the middle of the floor, swaying their bodies to the beat, and were already surrounded by a handful of mesmerized young men. Drew Warring stood among them. “I better go find them.”
He laughed as I hobbled to the stairs. Only twenty steps down and I’d be out of his sight, free to breathe again. I tripped down the last step, nearly breaking my ankle in the process.
Stupid klutzy curse.
I’d never learn to love Uriville. That was absurd. More laughable than watching Kat get his snout stuck in the peanut butter jar, scrounging for the last few drops of peanut buttery goodness.
Ian Larson didn’t know anything.
Chapter 4
Feeling rejuvenated from my sweaty workout on the dancefloor last night and a solid night’s rest, I came to work the next morning excited and motivated. A large hardbound book swung back and forth below my arm as I unlocked the shop and let Kat and myself in. With a loud thump, I threw it on the nearest and cleanest looking surface, not bothering to brush away the globs of dried paint.
The book fell open, yellowing pages flipping over to reveal a century’s worth of magical knowledge collected by the Brunick witches. It was one of the oldest grimoires we owned, dating back to our ancestors that lived and died in Europe.
“This is it, Kat. If there’s a way to help Momma Tula get over her blues, it’s in here. Grammy Jo loaned me her potion book.”
He looked up from his cushion, perking one ear and slowly blinking his beady little eyes.
“Okay, okay, so she didn’t exactly lend it to me. I borrowed it without permission. Sue me. She’s got so many spell books tucked away at home that she won’t miss this one for a day. Besides, I’ve got some serious witchy research to do.”
Potions work had never been my stronghold. You’d think that it wouldn’t be all that different from mixing magical paints, but after nearly burning down the kitchen the third time and turning Grammy Jo’s hair neon pink, I was banned from cauldron work. My mother hadn’t been concerned. It took her decades to come into her full powers. Maybe this time would be different.
The park didn’t open for another half hour. With any luck, I’d have my solution to Momma Tula’s problems by then. I licked the pad of my index finger and flipped through the first couple pages.
“Potion for warts, cure for hangovers, a detecting potion, infertility cures and…ewww, a magical cure for genital warts!” I skipped over that one, making sure to wipe my hands clean on my pants. “Love potion, all kinds of gardening charms, even a potion to make your garden gnome come alive.”
Kat gave an audible shudder and closed his eyes tight. I had to agree with him. The idea was terrifying. Something about those creepy little cherubic ceramic faces bursting to life made me want to crawl under the desk. Yikes.
I thumbed through about a hundred more pages, my eyes growing tired of scanning the loopy scrawl of my ancestors. Nothing and no one had ever written a potion to help my mom. You’d think with the minds of a couple dozen or so Brunick witches combined, we’d have a solution. And yet here I sat, with no magical potion and not even an idea of where to begin.