Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Okay,” she began, passing me one of the bowls, “you’ve got the oats and dried yarrow flower, I have the mini gourds and the star anise, and we need Kola back here or—Mira!”
Her friend turned from watching Jake argue with Kola, and came darting toward the patio followed by her father.
“You want me to start spreading this over each one?”
“Yes, please,” she told me as Mira reached the table.
“What can I do?”
“There’s another bowl on the card table with mini cinnamon sticks in it, and I need one in each candle, and I don’t care where it goes, it just needs to be against the side of the glass.”
“Got it,” Mira agreed, turning to do as she was told.
“What’re you doing with all those apples you bought?” I asked her.
“I’m making bags of apple chips.”
“Nice.”
“Hannah,” Anne said gently as my daughter and I got to work, Mira right there with us. “Sweetheart, I had no idea you were a Wiccan.”
“I’m a witch, and I have Wiccan leanings,” she told her boyfriend’s mother. “And I may be all Wiccan someday, but not at the moment. Also, if my father asks you, I’m Catholic.”
I snorted.
“How’s this?” Mira asked, letting Hannah see the few she had already done.
“Perfect,” she told her.
“And you have a coven?” Anne asked her, and I heard it then, the concern in her voice.
“Yeah,” Hannah said as Kayden came up the stairs and walked over to her.
“You’re sure you’re okay with me hanging out while you play? I won’t cramp your style?” he asked playfully.
“Just don’t cry if you get scared,” she warned him, and I could tell from her scrunched up eyes that she was grinning under the mask.
“What?” He was indignant.
She laughed at him, and I watched him melt right there. Hard not to like a kid who was so besotted with my daughter.
“Hold on,” she told Kay, “it’s driving me nuts just looking at him.”
Taking the stairs, Hannah shot over to Kola, Harper, Jake, and the others. We all watched as she patted Jake’s shoulder and he went down on one knee, never losing eye contact or stopping talking to Kola as she put her fingers through his hair and gently pulled the wild mane back into a messy ponytail using a hair stick she removed from her own ponytail. Once it was out of his face and off his neck, he stood back up and continued, now yelling at Kola.
When she reached the table, I passed her back the same bowl.
“Hannah,” Kay said softly, taking the bowl from her. “Can I help?”
“Course,” she murmured, her smile warm as she took the other bowl from me.
Walking over to the burners, I turned the stove back on so I could heat the beeswax off the stainless-steel pitchers. Both Anne and Heather followed me.
“So how long has Hannah been into this witch business?”
“Well, it’s not really business, it’s her––”
Heather gasped suddenly, and when I followed her gaze, I understood.
Sam had just stepped out onto the porch.
I couldn’t blame her. She’d never met the chief deputy, and it was a lot to take in all at once. There was his height, the spread of his shoulders, the width of his chest, the carved muscles, and on top of all that was the smug, sexy smile, the trace of silver in his short, thick hair, and because he hadn’t shaved in three days, the light stubble covering his square-cut jaw. The Captain America T-shirt and drawstring shorts that hugged his muscular thighs were just overkill. I would’ve gasped too.
“What is this?” he called over to me, holding a small crock in his hand.
“No, Dad,” Hannah chimed in, scolding him. “That’s my sourdough crock! You gotta put that back! It can’t get hot! I just fed it this morning.”
He squinted at her.
“Not the crock, the starter inside can’t get hot.”
His slate-colored eyes flicked to me.
“You have to have a starter for some breads,” I explained to him. “You know how you love the Amish Friendship kind I make?”
“That’s what this is?”
“Yes, dear, except sourdough is much harder, and you have to either feed it every twelve hours, or you have to keep it in the fridge and warm it up before and after you feed it.”
He scowled at me, then his daughter, and retreated back inside.
“Oh, Jory,” Heather said breathlessly as I wiped the pitchers down with paper towels. They were still waxy, but it didn’t matter. The same wax would need to be melted in October. “Your husband is a very handsome man.”
“Thank you,” I said as he emerged from the house, this time wearing a mask that had been made out of material with words for father in every language, carrying two of my ancient Pyrex baking dishes, one on top of the other, each layered with kabobs separated by foil. He had chicken, steak, and then veggie, mixed, shrimp, and some all-mushroom ones for Hannah.