Page 17 of Enchanted Village

“Well, I can’t wait to see what drinks that Fox Bar place is going to have,” one of the other girls said. Margaret glanced at her out of the corner of her eye as she scrubbed the glass in her hand. The girl had wide eyes and long, straight, dark hair that was pinned back by a satin headband. She was sipping one of Margaret’s hot chocolates and gave off the distinct impression that she wanted to see what Fox Bar had to offer so that she could respond with her own critique.

“I heard they’re going to have dancing,” said the light-brown-haired girl. “I can’t wait for that. I’m going to be there all the time.”

“I hope that’s not just a rumor,” the headband girl replied. “There’s nowhere in this village to do anything fun.”

A stone dropped in Margaret’s stomach. She scrubbed harder.

“I don’t know if that’s true,” the girl in the pink coat said. “Maybe you’re just boring, Elaine.”

Headband Girl—Elaine—scoffed.

“Oh please,” she said. “You can only walk up and down this village so many times and go to the same places over and over before you want something fresh.”

“Yeah,” the light-brown-haired girl agreed. “Are you saying you aren’t excited about it, Imogen?”

The girl—Imogen—shrugged. “I’m withholding judgment. Anyone can put a fancy sign out.”

Margaret’s lip twitched with the hint of a smile. Maybe she’d judged the girl too quicky.

“Still,” she said, glancing around. “It would be nice to see this place with a bit of an upgrade.”

Then again, maybe not.

The bell at the entrance of the pub jingled, making Margaret look up. The person standing in the door momentarily stole Margaret’s breath.

It was the stranger from before. Silas.

God, he was tall. She’d noticed he was tall before, but it was one thing to see him out in the woods and another to see him now, in her pub, towering over people. He’d stopped by the banshees and was smiling down at the group, who responded to him with high-pitched squeals. Margaret expected him to wince at the sound—Margaret winced, after all—but Silas only smiled broader.

This sent them into near hysterics. They swooned, every single one of them, and practically fell over themselves to seize his hand and shake it. From there, he moved past the banshees to a table of witches whose eyes glittered at the sight of the man. Margaret knew the women were several cocktails into the evening already, which must’ve explained some part of how they went to pieces tripping over themselves to bat their eyelashes and shake Silas’s hand.

Honestly, it was embarrassing. Just a little smile and suddenly they were fawning over him.

“There he is!” Liza hissed, so close that Margaret jolted. She hadn’t realized Liza had already made her way back, but there she was, her eyes as wide as the grin splashed across her face.

“Oh, I just knew he’d show back up,” Liza said. “I knew it!”

“Oh really,” Margaret deadpanned. “So, all that time you spent earlier trying to push me on that juggler when you said I might not have other options—”

“Being pedantic isn’t a good look, Mags,” Liza said, waving her off. “Now, how to approach him.” Her eyes flicked down to Margaret. “I think we could do with more cleavage, but if we’re making do with this look—”

Margaret practically dragged Liza away from the girls at the end of the bar. Liza was technically whispering, but Margaret was certain they could overhear her if they tried. She pulled Liza over to a corner of the bar that was currently unoccupied and began busying herself with washing the glasses Liza had brought back.

“I am not going to accost the man,” Margaret said, eye twitching as the banshees shrieked again—no doubt at something Silas had said. “In fact, I might not talk to him at all.”

“What?” Liza demanded, looking thoroughly aghast. “Why not?”

“Because I have a pub to run, Liza,” Margaret said. “And because he looked plenty busy with those witches at the front—”

“But—”

“I promised I would be open-minded,” Margaret said, scrubbing one of the glasses with perhaps more vigor than necessary. “And I have been open-minded. But I’m not going to interrupt my entire shift to accommodate him.”

“Right, but—”

“And let’s be quite honest,” Margaret continued, setting the glass aside and starting on another with the same intensity as the first. “A man that looks like that is bound to have an ego the size of a castle. And is that really something I need in my life? No. Of course not.”

“Sure, though you—”