Page 9 of Cursed Luck
Edward found a spot to park half a block away and took the opportunity to hide his amusement. It was obvious to him where Brandy was going with the conversation, but he refused to bite. It had been days since he saw Mia. He’d already determined his reaction to the beautiful woman was due to the atmosphere surrounding Serena and Ethan’s wedding.
Love had been thick and sticky in the air. There wouldn’t have been any way for him to avoid the attraction. If not Mia, it could have well been Terra or one of the other single women on the guest list.
Liar, his mind screamed.
“So tell me about her place. Why do you think I can help?” he asked Brandy as they met on the sidewalk.
“Well, as you saw, she’s got a connection with plants. I’ve been in there, and she treats them like her children. When I came last, there just wasn’t the amount of foot traffic I expected.”
Edward nodded as he spotted the glass window readingMia’s Flowers. Outside, a variety of plants and flowers sat in buckets, vases, and pots. When they neared the windowed storefront, he realized the inside was overflowing like the display out front.
His lips pinched as his mind went to work. An electric warmth spread along his limbs, a sign he now recognized ashismagic. Ideas flowed as to what Mia needed to change in order to make her shop a success.
“Shoot!” Brandy whined.
Edward turned and found her locking her phone and sighing. “What’s wrong?”
“They need me at the café.” She sighed again, which was a little dramatic, even for her. “You got this, right? I mean, you’re the one who can help her anyway.”
Edward was not able to reply before Brandy rolled to her toes, kissed his cheek, and gave him a little wave before hightailing it down the street.
He’d been played. It did not take magic to know when his baby sister was up to no good. Except, now that he had seen Mia’s shop, he knew she would benefit from his help.
Help. That was all he was there to offer. Give her a breakdown of the mistakes he spotted, offer suggestions, and return to his life of helping others with their business ventures too. After all, the attraction he’d felt and could not stop thinking about was only the result of his brother’s wedding.
After sucking in a deep breath, he pushed back his shoulders and stepped toward the door. He spotted her tending to a houseplant, her lips moving but no one else in the vicinity. Edward froze, his hand on the door.
She wore a sleeveless shirt that molded to her breasts, skintight jeans that stopped at her calves, and nothing on her feet. Her mass of waves was pinned to the top of her head with sticks, and a few tendrils of curls caressed the sides of her neck and face.
His dick ached behind the zipper of his pants at the sight of her, and his breath became shallow. Mia didn’t need a tempting dress to send blood pumping straight to his groin. She could wear a potato sack and still affect him.
“Shit,” he muttered and wiped his now-sweaty palms along his pant legs.
He watched her carefully as he pulled open the door, a chime going off in the distance to announce his arrival.
Her head came up, a smile teasing her lips. “Good morn—”
“Hello, Mia,” he said past his suddenly dry throat.
Her pink tongue slid across her lips and a blush brightened her olive skin before she peered behind him. “Edward, hi. I… um… thought Brandy would be with you.”
Edward smiled at the realization he made her nervous. He took his time walking toward her, stopping and examining her plants and flowers on the way, giving her time to adjust to his presence. “She just left. Something came up at the café, I guess.”
Her brows pinched together at his words. “How convenient,” she muttered to herself, but he heard the words nonetheless.
“I thought so too,” he told her, and her eyes widened as she cleared her throat. “Nice place you have here,” he said, stopping her from whatever apology she was about to give.
“Thank you,” she replied, her words breathy.
His gaze lowered to her breasts, which rose and fell in a mesmerizing rhythm behind the emerald-colored apron she wore. “When did you decide on becoming a florist?”
Her hand shook as she tipped the watering can in her hand, pouring its contents onto some sort of house plant. “I’ve had a thing for plants for as long as I can remember.”
He nodded and turned away from her to shift himself. “That you do, but I’m sure not every witch who can do what you do goes into business for it,” he told her over his shoulder.
“No, I bet they don’t. I, on the other hand, went and got degrees in horticulture and floriculture.”
Edward turned at the hard tone in her voice. Studying her, he wondered if she defended herself on this account often. He raised a hand in defense. “I’m not attacking, Mia. I’m merely stating the obvious. Remember, I’m here to help.”
