Page 150 of Flirty Fall Fling

“Home,” I say.

“Are we staying closed?” Ivy asks.

Martha stands beside her.

“What do you want to do?” I ask, meeting each of their eyes.

“We want to stay,” Josie says. “We can’t let them run us off.”

Winter agrees, and so do Ivy and Martha.

“Okay, reopen right after lunch. But please, go to the diner. Eat something yummy and charge it to my account.”

They each grin.

Jamie and I walk out the front door. He hides his face, but I refuse to because I know what I’m about to do. Flashes nearly blind me, but I keep going forward. My hands are tucked into my pockets, and his are slid inside his hoodie. I glance over my shoulder to see at least ten people following us. We make it to the manor in record time, taking the long hallway to the study.

The spell book we used almost two weeks ago is on the desk, where I left it.

I don’t reach for it because it’s not the one I need.

It’s inside the top drawer, thinner and bound in cloth. I look at the script across the front.

Prosperity Workings for the Witch.

The pages are worn from being used. I flip through the pages and stop at the ward I want. My eyes scan down the page, and I make a mental list.

“What do you need?” Jamie asks.

“Honey. Cinnamon. A green candle—there’s one in the kitchen drawer. Dried rose petals—they’re in the front room.” I’m already pulling a jar off the shelf. “And I need my small, round mirror in my bedroom.”

He rushes through the house without asking a question. I work on setting up the space.

When he returns, I’ve got everything laid out on the desk, and my sleeves pushed up. I write my first and last name on a bay leaf until it’s covered on both sides.

Jamie stands to the side and watches me work.

The leaf goes in the jar. Honey is poured over it until the leaf is covered. Cinnamon is sprinkled on top after that. The rose petals are ripped into pieces. I pull a gold coin from the top drawer of the desk and drop it inside. I set the mirror under the jar, facing upright, creating a reflection.

I light the green candle. The flame lights the dark room.

When I glance over at Jamie, he’s watching me intently with the crooked mustache.

I take the deepest breath and close my eyes. My chest fills, and then I exhale. I do this until my head is light, and I’m in a relaxed state.

With both hands firmly gripping the jar, I clear my throat and speak.

“I’m Blaire Wardwell. Blaire. Wardwell. Three syllables. Jameson Cross. Jameson. Cross. Three more syllables. When anyone says our name, kind or cruel, in rooms we’ve been in or in those we will never be, it returns in riches tenfold.”

Jamie freezes on the other side of the desk.

“The more they talk, the more we receive.” My body burns, and my hands are hot. “Let it return as beauty. Let every stolen picture be harder to look away from than the last.”

The flame flickers.

“Let it come back to us as pleasure. Travel. Money. Peace. Energy in and energy out.”

I lift the candle and let the wax drip inside until everything is sealed in a layer of green.