Page 7 of Witchy Woman

I setup the rest of the booth in a fog. A lusty, anxiety-ridden fog. It would be one thing if my attraction to Ash was one-sided. Or if he was shy. But his obvious pursuit of me is beyond my ability to handle.

I want him to stop.

Don’t I?

At the very least, I’m happy he respects me when I tell him to leave. He may not understand personal space, but he understands no.

That’s more than I can say for a lot of people.

By the time I’ve finished, the booth is neat and orderly but my brain is a jumbled mess. Even though I can’t see or hear Ash, I can still sense him. Sense the electric current that I only allowed myself to feel just once.

Right after Mom died.

We came to the market so Hazel could see the moving paintings and have her whole ‘coming to Jesus’ moment. For me, it was the first time Ash touched me. He didn’t say a word,neither did I. I was with my family and all he did was brush my shoulder with his arm.

The electric shock was exactly as Hazel described it. Like sticking your finger in a socket. Sharp, brief, and full of everything I’ve never wanted.

Sure, maybe when I younger I wanted what my parents had. But there’s no point in it. Not when losing it can turn you into the kind of person my mom is.

Was.

Is?

“The booth looks lovely, dear,” Grandma says, snapping me out of my musings.

I smile. “Thank you.”

“Since you’re not as familiar with the shop, I made a little cheat sheet for you.” She hands me a slip of paper. “The pricing is on that. Everything should be labeled well enough that you can put it all together. But I’ll stay with you for your first week as you adjust. After that, if you need help you can always call me or Hazel.”

“Do I get a paycheck for manning your booth like Hazel does for the store?” I ask. Partially because the urge to be snarky is too much to ignore, and partially because I haven’t had a job in my life, and it would be nice to have some money. Mom would give me a little something to get lunch at the cafeteria on campus but nothing extra.

“Yes. You’ll earn the same pay as Hazel does.”

At least she and I are on equal footing in something.

“And remember, your first magic lesson is tonight. I expect you to be in the shop by no later than seven.”

The shop? Uh, no. Nope. No thank you.

I shoot her my doe eyes. “Why can’t we just do it at home? I’m sure the house would appreciate the magic.”

“The house is just fine on its own.” She stares me down. “We will meet in the shop. It has the correct space and energy.”

How do I explain to her what that space means to me? It’s where my mom spent some of her last day. She stole my memories of it for years. All it does is remind me of what I’ve lost.

“Please? Could we maybe go outside in the yard if we need more space?” I can’t help the pleading tone, the desperation.

She’s already forcing me to be around Ash every day. I can’t do this, too.

She sighs, setting a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’s this important to you?”

I breathe in relief. She’s listening to me. “Yes. Yes, Grandma, it is.”

“Okay. We can start in the backyard. But you can’t avoid the shop forever, dear. It’s part of who you are just as much as each of your limbs.”

My body relaxes. “I would chop my own hand off if it gave me as much trouble as that shop.”

“Mmm.” Her nose wrinkles. “What lovely imagery.”