"You ... you weren't going to call me ma'am, were you?" I asked. I was not in the ma'am age-range or the ma'am married range, either.
"I was not."
I looked behind me and saw the blue-eyed man who'd watched my drama with Carol at the dry cleaners.
No. He looked like the one in the dry cleaners, but he was different. His hair was longer and curled at the nape of his neck. His tie was sky-blue, much like the color of his eyes. Tall and gorgeous and well-dressed. Oh, my.
I felt the same odd pull that I had with the other guy. Recognition. And ...desire for closeness. I really wanted to crawl into his arms and stay there, warm and secure, forever.
You are losing it, girl. Snap out of it!
"So ... twins?" I whispered.
"Miss?"
"You ... you weren't at the dry cleaners earlier, were you?"
He shook his head. "My brother Reeve was there, though."
"Oh. Um. Sorry." I moved aside, but he shook his head.
"Go in front of my ma--er, a lady?" He said. "My parents would be ashamed." He opened the door and gestured for me to go through first.
"Thank you." I hesitated and then met his gaze head-on. "I appreciate your kindness, Mister…"
"Call me Ryle."
"That's your first name, or your last?"
"First," he said with a gentle smile.
"Who's the other guy?"
He lifted an eyebrow.
"You ... you weren't at the dry cleaners earlier, were you?"
He shook his head. "My brother Reeve was there, though."
"Oh."
"What's your name?"
"Right. Sorry. I'm Cassandra Willowstone. You can call me Cassie, if you want." I heaved a shaky breath, but I didn't break eye contact. "I figure you're new around here, so here's some advice, Ryle. I'm the town pariah. Being nice to me will only make trouble for you."
At least until I'm forgiven by the coven tonight, I thought. Then everything will be right as rain.
"Good thing I like trouble," he said. He flashed another smile, but this curl of his lips sent a tingle from my head all the way to my toes. Uh-oh. Attraction was so out-of-the-question. Yet, my body was not listening to my brain. It continued to respond with little sparks of pleasure.
"I also like making up my own mind about people, Cassie." He nodded toward the door. "Coffee awaits."
"It's your funeral," I murmured. I entered the shop and felt my heart drop.
The place was empty, which meant I couldn't avoid the inevitable confrontation with Joe.
Now, Evan would get to see Round Two of Humiliate Cassie. I glanced at the clock on the back wall and saw that it was fifteen to eleven. Already? Shoot. If I didn't hurry, I would be late to work. Ugh. That would be the crap frosting on my failure cake.
Relief cascaded through me when I saw Sara Banton behind the counter, adding chocolate-chip muffins to the three-tiered display stand on top of the refrigerated glass case. Sara had once been my best friend. We'd known each other since kindergarten. In high school, we were practically inseparable.
I lost my best friend the same day I'd lost everything else. Here's the thing about Sara… she didn't blame me for what happened between her mom and dad. She knew nothing my mother did was my fault. She'd confided in me about her parents' bad marriage way before Mom ever had the affair with Joe.
Sara had never said a mean word to me. But she couldn't extend the hand of friendship anymore, either. She was a legacy in the coven, same as I should've been. And she was being groomed by her parents to be part of the Council of Six.
Ironically, Marie Banton had always been kind to me—even after Joe left her for my mother. But I rarely saw Marie. She was a pottery artist who spent most of the time in her studio. She specialized in making cauldrons and other witch-casting materials such as mortars, pestles, and bowls. She also had some wonderful art pieces.
"Good morning," Sara chirped as she looked up. Her gaze met mine and I saw a flash of regret before she looked at Ryle. "How can I help you, sir?"
"Cassie was here first," said Ryle pleasantly.
"We…" Sara's expression turned miserable. "Uh, I can't serve her."
"Why not?"
"It's okay, Sara. I'm here for Dorianna."
"Oh." She nodded. "I'll prepare her usual then."
Sara started the coffee machine, pulling on handles and pushing buttons. The machine whooshed with steam as she worked.
A couple minutes later, she put two cups of coffee on the counter. "One skinny latte with three pumps of sugar-free vanilla and no whip. And one white chocolate mocha with extra whip."
I looked at her and then at the coffees. The latte was for Dorianna, but the white chocolate mocha… that was my favorite drink.
Back when I'd counted Sara as my dearest friend, I always ordered it when we'd drop by the coffee shop after school. I felt tears crowd my eyes. The thoughtful gesture made my chest feel tight.
"Thank you," I said. "How much do I owe you?"
"Sara? We're out of—"
Joe Banton stalled his progress, glaring at me over the refrigerated case full of quick-buy food and drinks. "What do you want?" he spat.
"She's here for Dorianna," said Sara.
Joe's gaze landed on the two coffees and then he turned his frown onto his daughter. "Who's the other one for?"
I saw Sara flinch, her expression turning guilty. Her niceness to me in any form would get her nothing but grief from her dad. I opened my mouth to defend her or to lie or to do something that would get her out of trouble.
"That one is mine," said Ryle. "I need a plain coffee, too, please."
Joe's face cleared. "Ah. Okay. I'll get your other coffee, sir," said Joe, taking care of Ryle's request.
"That's three dollars and eleven cents," said Sara, pushing Dorianna's coffee toward me.
I got my wallet out of my purse, and paid cash for the coffee. I tucked a $5 tip into the tip jar and mouthed "Thank you." Sara nodded, glancing at her dad.
I turned, smiling at Ryle to show my gratitude for his help, and then I left. Relief cascaded through me as soon as I left the shop. I was so glad to be out of Joe's presence. If I didn't get my butt in gear, I'd be late to my shift. I hurried to the corner of the block, waiting for cars to pass so I could cross the street.
"Cassie! Wait!"