Page 70 of Love's a Witch
It surprised me just how much real estate this woman had taken up in my brain. I wasn’t usually one for soft yearnings or angsty pining, but I couldn’t believe just how many times I’d picked up my phone to call her on one excuse or the other andthen put it down. And frankly, I was surprised by my own rapidly growing feelings for Sloane. I don’t exactly know when the change from wanting to make her leave to wanting to make her love me happened, but here we were.
Thoughts of how to help Sloane consumed me on the walk into town, but by the time I arrived at the pub I was no closer to a solution. Only half-frozen, covered in snow, and distracted by remembering the heat of Sloane’s mouth on mine.
“Hi ya, mate. Sorry I’m late.” Rabbie Barclay, a good friend of mine, stopped at where I stood on the sidewalk outside the pub, having lost myself in a train of thought.
“No worries, mate.” I shook my head and brushed the snow from my face, and we stopped to ogle the veritable army of snow sculptures that had now expanded to both sides of the walkway in front of the Rune & Rose. A snow fairy held hands with a witch, a tiger kissed a snow frog, and there was even a wee snow ladybug. Things were getting out of hand here.
On Tuesday nights the pub closed early, and I usually stopped in for a round of darts with Liam and Rab. We stepped inside from the cold to find Liam behind the bar.
“What’ll it be tonight, lads?” Liam asked, from where he stocked beer cans in a cooler. I loved the pub like this, when the main lights were off, and it was highlighted just by the fire and a few lamps in the corners. The ambiance made it easy to chat about our lives while we played darts, and I was lucky to have Liam and Rab as my mates.
“Common Gin and tonic for me,” Rab ordered.
“Sure, same. I heard Munroe’s building a distillery in Loren Brae,” I said, settling onto a stool. Common Gin was owned by Munroe Curaigh, a respected businessman who had thumbed his nose at his posh parents and gone into making gin for the working class instead of working for the fancy whisky brand his parents owned.
“Aye, that’s the way of it. Heard good things too. He’s engaged.” Liam placed three glasses on the bar and bent to building our drinks.
“Another one bites the dust,” Rab said grimly. I glanced at him. He wasn’t usually so bitter when it came to the likes of love, having dated far and wide. It wasn’t surprising, as he basically was a stand-in for David Beckham, but with a bit more muscle.
“Hopefully, he’s happy.” Liam slid us our drinks.
“Doubtful,” Rab murmured into his drink.
“What’s up with you?” I asked, taking a sip and angling myself toward Rab. He was a fairly cheerful sort, and usually wished others well.
“The same thing that’s up with you.” Liam snorted and put the darts on the bar.
“Me? I’m fine.” I pointed a finger at my chest. “This one over here seems a bit tetchy.”
“It’s the MacGregor sisters. Got you both tied in knots.” Liam grinned when both Rab and I stilled. “Uh-huh. See that? That right there. That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Which sister?” I turned on Rab, ready to fight.
“None of them.” Rab glowered at me.
“Lyra,” Liam said, smirking when Rab swore under his breath.
“Och, no, that’s right.” I’d honestly forgotten that Rab and Lyra had been an item for a moment back in the day. We were all so young, and relationships were fleeting in high school. But judging from the look on Rab’s face, maybe not so fleeting.
“It’s nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem nothing. Your face looks like Wolverine’s,” Liam said.
“If he sat on one of his claws.” I outright laughed when Rab’s expression soured even more.
“Like you’re one to talk. Sniffing around Sloane.”
I took a sip of my drink, steadying myself. I wasn’t sniffing around her, exactly, and I knew that Rab had used that term to get me angry. Which would deflect from any discussion of him and Lyra.
“She does smell good. Like a sangria on a sunny beach.” I beamed at him when he swore, downing his drink.
“What’s going on with you two anyway?” Liam asked, pulling Rab’s glass over to make him another.
“I don’t know,” I said, because these were some of my oldest mates, and if I couldn’t be honest with them, then I wasn’t sure who I could be honest with. “She’s dug into my brain somehow. All I can do is think about her.”
Rab snorted, tapping his fingers on the bar, nodding in agreement. I took that to mean he felt the same about Lyra.
“But?” Liam asked, sliding a fresh drink to Rab.
