Page 4 of Of Poison & Pumpkins
“We’re closing, sir. If I can’t help you find anything, then I kindly ask you to leave.” I point towards the door, hoping he doesn’t hear the nervous energy in my words.
“Sir? Come on, Rynnlee, we don’t need to play games. But if you’re busy, I can take a hint.” Elias raises both hands with a smile and backs away. “Actually, I’ve still got payroll to send since all my employees left early to prep for tonight. This is my first Ceremony in town, can you tell me where everyone meets?”
I walk towards the bay window, while very aware of his intense stare lasering onto my back.
Out the window, the sky has turned from navy to the deepest royal purple, my favorite. I almost get lost in the color until I feel Elias’s body warmth beside me. I gulp, using every ounce of effort not to crack my knuckles in front of him.
“It’ll be over by the stone fountain. If you arrive before eleven-thirty, you’ll get a decent spot.”
“And what time will you get there, Rynnlee?”
Sighing, I face him, crossing my arms and craning my neck up to meet his gaze. His genuine smile breaks me in half. “Why are you here, Elias?”
“So you do recognize me?”
I’ll never tell him I’ve tried to scrub his face from my memory for the past decade or that I’ve tried to forget the secret he told me. And I’ll never admit I’ve had countless sex dreams starring his book-boyfriend, smut-worthy lips.
“Why did you come here?” I ask. “What do you want with me?”
“To sit by you at the Ceremony, of course. I’ll save you a seat, but don’t be late. Wouldn’t want you to lose your magic for a month if you miss tonight.”
And just like that, he winks—honest-to-Lucifer winks—and moseys towards the Pumpkin shop across the street. As I squint, I see their logo is on the back of his shirt. Holy shit! My high school crush works for my new rival.
Fantastic.
CHAPTER TWO
Elias
I have to admit, Oakmar is a breath of fresh air. I bet these cobblestone streets hold centuries of secrets. Tall oak trees stand along the sidewalk like lollipops outside each shop on Blake Street, the most touristy part of this quaint town, which resembles Salem a bit in its Gothic revival architecture. With the stone exteriors, tall towers, pointed arched doorways and windows, the buildings belong in a movie. And don’t even get me started on the energy infused in the air. The city even sounds like whimsical magic is hidden within the muffled conversations.
I dip inside my shop, allowing the strong pumpkin scent to soothe me, reminding me of Grandpa’s farm, then flick the light off that was illuminating the Peculiar Pumpkins sign.
On a night like this, when the dim, full moon rises with the promise of good fortune, I cling to my biggest dream—to take Rynn on a date. I could write a novel about that woman. She’s so determined, self-reliant, and assertive. Plus, she looks even better now than her teenage-self.
In high school, I was always too scared to confess my feelings. Then I’d foolishly wasted away my twenties chasing after fleeting women. While earning a marketing degree, dating, and traveling the world, Rynn had always held space in the back of my mind, like a flame I couldn’t ever extinguish.
I mean, balderdashin fugnuggets, is it just me or is she even more gorgeous than I had remembered? Her freckles will be the death of me. And I want my hands lost in her long hair. Silky locks twisted into a variety of tight and loose braids, weaved together like one of her knitting projects … irresistible!
Yes, I’ve done some necessary social media snooping. Seen her posts featuring handmade coasters, blankets, sweaters, scarves, and dishcloths—none of which are purple. Does she love or hate the color that invades her store? In high school, I remember her favorite color was black. How much has she changed? Unfortunately, our reunion didn’t go as planned. I had half-a-hope that she’d be glad to see me … jokes on me.
On the tallest shelf, I straighten the pumpkin shaped mugs, then move on to the next section—pet equipment consisting of leashes, collars, cat bowls, and treat bins all decorated with pumpkins.
All this is thanks to Grandpa’s pumpkin farm. When he died last year, he left money in his will, but I’m not allowed to join the family business until I prove myself financially with the inheritance—thus: my Peculiar Pumpkin store.
When someone told me that my biggest competition would be a shop that sells only purple products, I had laughed out loud. Now, I can see it’s no joke. Customers had revolved in and out of Palooza’s all day like it was an ice cream shop giving out free scoops.
A scratching sound comes from the back office, and I follow the noise into the shadows. “Zanther?” I call out, peeking around the corner. “Zanther? You still here, man?”
I wait for my brother to jump out and try to scare me, which would be hard since he’s taller than a lamppost and more solid than a statue. Though he’s years younger, he has the strength to wrestle me into submission at his whim.
Another soft scratch comes from behind the closet door. I yank it open, ready to block his playful punch, but instead Goosie springs out meowing like a lunatic. His fluffy orange tail whips against me in resentment until he begs to be lifted to my chest.
“What were you doing in there, bud? You get stuck?” He presses a paw against my cheek and starts kneading biscuits directly on my face. His motor is louder than a machine, possessing me with a purring drug so I can’t help but scratch his fur.
I wrap Goosie behind my neck, where he casually drapes himself like a scarf. Balancing him on my shoulders, I head to my room in the back, furnished with an extravagant cot, broken lamp, tiny fridge, old microwave, and a cracked trash bin. And let’s not forget the box of bathroom necessities I carry to and from the employee restroom to get ready before work. At this rate, I’d win gold in an Olympic event of showering in the sink. Ah, the life of luxury.
“Eli?” My brother’s voice, deeper than mine, booms down the hall. “You eat yet? I’m getting pizza unless you’ll finally let me cook Goosie.”
