Page 5 of Spellbound
And raw heat.
Oh, I like this guy.
I swatted away a buzzing fly and melted into the slanted frame of my chair. My imagination had been paying attention. This man had the appearance of a muscular build, lean like an athlete. I’d always gotten fluttery for jocks.
I’d swipe right in a hot minute, if I were ever inclined to go the Internet dating route. For now, I’d wait for him to drop into my lap. I chuffed out a laugh. What were the chances of my dream guy coming to life?
Ah, Emma Grayce, you know the answer to that.
I had things to do—a bride to inform of my early arrival—but I ogled those eyes a little longer, unable to set my drawing aside. Then my stomach rumbled and reminded me I hadn’t eaten in hours. It was a much safer bet that the local diner served a juicy burger than the guy in my drawing who seemed to have cast a spell on me actually existed.
A cool breeze had kicked up while I sat. I put on a cardigan and dropped a foldable umbrella into my oversized purse, and with the clouds darkening overhead, took off on foot for the main strip of this pretty little town. Shortly, I found myself on the quaint Center Street I remembered from a visit long ago. Two-story edifices comprised of shops with striped awnings at street level and storage or rental space above, wide sidewalks lined with old-fashioned light posts, and hanging pots dripping with blossoms even this late in the year.
The town’s maintenance man—a burly guy with an impressive mustache—was unloading tools from the bed of a well-used golf cart. Gus was his name; he was easy to remember. I’d noticed his work, the Halloween banners and fall-colored bunting hanging from the eaves of various buildings along my route. The town had always gone all out for the seasons.
People were out and about, seemingly ignoring the afternoon downpour that appeared more and more likely. Folks who smiled and actually said hello as they passed rather than elbowing their way through like salmon impatiently swimming upstream.
Don’t salmon die when they reach their destination?
I peered in the store windows as I strolled. The ice cream shop and Stephanie’s adorable bakery were both doing a brisk business, though Steph didn’t seem to be inside. I’d be back to indulge myself, no doubt about that. Both had treats I’d be savoring before the end of my trip. The hardware store had a line at the register, and a worn wooden bench out front with a pair of children licking chocolate ice cream cones. And there it was, Break an Egg, just ahead. I remembered well the brightly striped awning and the dancing egg wearing a pink tutu stenciled on the front glass. Last time I was here, I was served blueberry pancakes that nearly made me moan out loud. As memory served, I hadn’t ordered the blueberry pancakes with bacon on the side; I’d asked for a Denver omelet. But some sort of mistake in the order had netted me the carb-and-calorie-rich breakfast, and once I took my first bite, I fostered no regrets.
Today, I planned to order the hamburger I’d been imagining earlier, and though I didn’t have an abundance of wiggle room in my bridesmaid’s dress—mostly due to the mini chocolate bars I’d been eating likecandy—I’d live dangerously and have my patty on a toasted bun. With a healthy slab of provolone.
The bell tinkled overhead as I opened the door, stepped from under the awning that protected me from the sky just beginning to spit icy raindrops. A server swept past, her hair in a messy twist at the back of her head and held in place with a writing pen. Her arms were laden with a heavy tray, and she yelled over her shoulder for me to sit wherever I liked. There were a number of available seats, so I took a table for two against the front window. People watching was a favorite activity, and my voyeuristic activities gleaned me many of my story ideas.
The waitress stopped beside my table. “Hey, hon. You got inside just in time.” She dropped a laminated menu on the Formica table top and shot a glance to the coat hooks at the entrance. “Hope one of those slickers is yours.”
“Oh. No. But I have an umbrella.” I dove as if to reach for it in my bag, then stopped myself and straightened. The woman knew what an umbrella looked like, for goodness sake. “Or maybe the rain will stop by the time I’m done eating.”
The woman—her name tag said ‘Hi, I’m Molly’—twisted her lips as if in indecision. Added a slow nod. “You never know this time of year. Could last a minute, could be a three-day soaker. Me, I’m hoping for a quick rainbow as we don’t want the town to be flooded out. Fall Festival’s not till next weekend, but there’s simply so much to do. Of course, Stephanie & Grant’s reception this Saturday will be quite the preview.” She slammed her mouth shut. “Boy, I talk too much. Anyhoo, what can I get you to drink?”
I really wanted a tall, sweaty glass of iced tea, and the hit of caffeine wouldn’t hurt, but I only just arrived in town and wasn’t taking the chance of being shunned for ordering my tea unsweetened. Instead, I ordered water with ice and a wedge of lemon, and since I already knew what I wanted to eat, gave her my lunch order as well.
After a parting comment from Molly, I pulled out my phone to open the weather app—no precipitation forecast past dinnertime, thank goodness, and studiously avoid my social media. I was keeping a low profile these days. This weekend was likely to generate wicked drama of its own once Stephanie heard her seating chart needed redoing because I hadn’t brought a man.
“Emma Grayce, you’re here!” The surprised squeal from across the room caught my attention—but really, how could itnotwhen it was so loud everyone in the whole place turned to look—and I jumped from my chair. Stephanie Duran, whom I hadn’t seen in over a year but had FaceTimed with countless times during the past months, was waving her arms and giggling uncontrollably. I raced—decorously, mind you—across the room and straight into her arms.
“Stephanie, you’re getting married! And at Halloween!” I grinned and gave my good friend a squeeze.
“I am! Can you believe it? We considered waiting till the season was over, but hey.”
“It’s so romantic.” I snorted.
Stephanie feigned a pout, then grinned. “Whatever. The timing is perfect. And you’re here! Bless you. I wouldn’t want it any other way!” Stephanie squealed again, threw her arms around me and squeezed as if my appearance was a surprise and I hadn’t just given upmy jobto make it happen.
“Everyone, this is Emma Grayce. We’ve been friends since college. EG, you remember my sweetheart, Grant, of course.” Stephanie slid from my embrace and wrapped her arm around her fiancé’s waist, all the while gesturing around the table and introducing me to Grant’s Nana Esther and Esther’s good friend, Abigail.
“Nice to meet you, ladies. I’m so glad I could be here for Steph and Grant.” I offered each a modest but friendly wave. There was one other person at the table, a man seated with his face in shadowed profile as he pushed his chair from the table and turned to face me.
Stephanie patted him on his nicely-defined bicep. “This galoot is Eli, Abigail’s grandson and a childhood friend of Grant’s. Our brothers—Grant’s and mine—are our groomsmen, but Gary’s sick as a dog and Eli happened to be in town, so he agreed to fill in. Thank God, he even fit in the tux. Andsurprise!Since you and Eli are both dateless and—ahem—single, you’ll be paired together for the wedding festivities.”
Distracted by the amused gleam in Stephanie’s eye and her surreptitious thumbs up, I absently stretched out my hand.
Eli clutched it in a firm grip. “I hear we’re in for some weekend, huh?”
Awareness stole my breath. I gasped and jerked back my hand as if shocked. “It’s you!”
Then heat rushed from my torso to my hairline, and my hands turned icy. Stars flooded my periphery, my legs went weak, and I blindly swept the area for somewhere to sit.
