“Gwyn, I’ve told you the story three times already. And that’s just today. I texted it to you, and called you about it last night.”
Vivi reached up to readjust the little papier-maché witch hanging over the cash register at Something Wicked, and Gwyn, standing behind the counter, leaned forward, putting her chin in her hands.
“I know, but it’s my favorite story. I want it played at both my wedding and my funeral. I want to do it as a dramatic monologue at an open mic night. I want—”
“I get it,” Vivi said, laughing as she held up her hand, “but seriously, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“You almost ran your ex-boyfriend over with a car, and then left him lying in the literal dirt on the side of the road. It is such a big deal, you absolute queen.”
Vivi smiled again, but if she were being honest, she still felt a little . . . well, not guilty, exactly. Rhys was a powerful witch, and he’d been maybe a half mile from the Penhallow house. He could take care of himself.
But maybe it had been kind of bitchy to just leave him there, especially after he’d been surprisingly chill about the whole “nearly run over” thing.
Of course, that wasn’t actually surprising. “Chill” was Rhys’s default setting, after all.
And charming.
He’d been really freaking charming last night.
Suppressing a sigh, she moved over to the display of crystal balls, running her hands over the nearest one.
Elaine’s store was just as cozy and perfect as her house and today, decked out for Founder’s Day, it was at its absolute best. Candles had been lit, filling the store with the smell of bay and sage, and crystals were spilled out on black velvet tablecloths like recently discovered jewels.
Even Gwyn looked magical and mystical today, decked out in a clingy black dress and knee-high suede boots, her long red hair curling around her face.
Vivi was a little more subtle in her black pants and purple striped sweater, but then she was just the local history teacher, not the proprietress of the town’s witch shop.
Besides, she’d been distracted this morning.
She’d spent a solid ten minutes in the shower replaying last night, and for all the time that had passed, for all the tears she’d cried over the awful way it had ended, when she’d looked down into those blue eyes, that same hank of dark hair falling over his forehead, that same lazy grin, her heart had knocked solidly against her ribs, her stomach had dropped and she wasn’t even going to think about what certain other parts of her had done.
Needless to say, her body definitely remembered how much it had liked his, which was deeply unfair and, quite frankly, treasonous of it.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and reminded herself of the mantra she’d come up with driving away from him last night.
He is the worst, he is the worst, he is the actual, literal worst.
It probably wasn’t that enlightened a mantra, but it got the job done, and when she opened her eyes, it was a little easier to remember there were good reasons she’d left without a second glance, both nine years ago and last night.
“Were you just picturing having sex with him?”
Vivi glared at Gwyn. “No,” she lied, and was saved from any more questions by the ringing of the chime over the door.
“We’re not open yet!” Gwyn called out, but it wasn’t an early Founder’s Day customer coming in, it was the mayor.
Vivi looked over at Jane Ellis, a tiny brunette who had a seriously great stiletto game. Today’s pair were bright orange, working nicely with her black suit and the skull studs in her ears.
“Have either of you seen Rhys Penhallow?” she asked, her fingers moving over her phone even as she looked between Gwyn and Vivi.