Witching You Weren’t Snowed In (Witching You #2)

Chapter 6

Sage

I glared at Leo over the brim of my peppermint mocha. After he caught me red-handed in the antique shop, we walked across the street to get coffee so I could stall and figure out a way to explain myself. Thanks to the shop’s ‘You break it, you buy it’ policy, my newly acquired headless bowling trophy sat next to a plate of decorated sugar cookies.

“How much did you see?” I asked.

Leo leaned back in his plush armchair and propped his ankle on his knee. Next to us, an electric heater blasted warmth over our corner of the coffee shop. It should have been cozy, romantic even, reminding me of the evenings we’d spent huddled in the lodge drinking hot chocolate long after the lifts had closed for the day. Except now, I was literally sitting in the hot seat, waiting to see if Leo knew my secret.

One of them, at least. My snow curse was still up for grabs.

“Well, let’s see. You were magically altering the engraving on that trophy.” He pointed to the bowler’s head sitting on my napkin. “And you were mumbling about how you wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking it was an agency award. So I guess I saw all of it. Are you planning to tell your parents, and by extension, the whole town, about not winning Agent of the Year?”

I inhaled a deep breath of peppermint, grimacing at the scribbled note on the cardboard that read: Congratulations, Sage! We’re so proud.

My so-called achievement had made the rounds at the coffee shop. Was there no safe place? Why couldn’t I have grown up off-the-grid in a bunker? My secrets would have been between me and a wall of canned peaches.

I closed my eyes to block out the glowing message and allow the festive scent to calm my irritation. Which was a lot to ask from a high-calorie attempt at aromatherapy.

“I wouldn’t have to tell anyone if the shop had a wider selection of trophy options. It’s difficult to alter a physical shape for more than a few seconds,” I grumbled as if it were magic’s fault and not my own lies. “The lettering is easier. It’s more of a surface illusion. It’ll last longer.”

“I see. Who knew illusions were so specific?” Leo reached for his cup of coffee and took a sip. His features immediately scrunched together as if he were in pain. He set the cup back onto the table, taking a furtive glance at the older woman working behind the counter.

“Is something wrong with your coffee?” I asked, braving a sip of my own. Sweet chocolate mixed with peppermint flooded my taste buds. A dollop of whipped cream stuck to the top of my lip, and I licked it off, trying to ignore the way Leo’s eyes fixated on my mouth.

Now wasn’t the time to delve into that look. I'd been watching way too many holiday romantic comedies, and his interest was most likely all in my overactive imagination.

“The coffee is too hot.” Leo hunched in his chair, and I wasn’t sure I believed him. But I had bigger issues than whether he was satisfied with his beverage purchase.

“So, what do we do now? Are you going to tell my parents?” I struggled to keep the catch out of my voice. I felt like a teenager again, caught breaking the rules. This was so humiliating.

“I have a better idea.” Leo plucked a cookie off my plate. “I won’t tell anyone your secret if you help me out with a little project.”

I scoffed. “Are you blackmailing me, Grayson? That’s a dangerous game to play against a witch.”

He sank his teeth into the cookie and brushed the crumbs onto the napkin. If my veiled threat bothered him, it didn’t show.

“Blackmail is a harsh word, Bennett. Think of it more like a partnership. Like the one the lodge has with the tea shop.”

He smiled wolfishly, hinting at his own veiled threat. Okay, so we were both brilliant at tossing up our defenses. We always had been. Him overly confident to hide any insecurity, and me, trying desperately to prove I belonged. Until, one day, those labels had fallen away, and for a blink-and-you-might-miss-it moment, I thought we were something more .

I pulled the plate of cookies out of his reach, returning his smile with one sweet enough to cause a toothache. If only it were that easy to cause someone dental pain.

I’d taken one too many strolls down memory lane today. Time to take what was left of my cookies and head home.

“What do you want from me?”

The tiniest crack in Leo’s armor appeared as he shifted in the chair. He glanced again from his coffee to the woman behind the counter. Something was wrong with it. We’d been sitting here long enough for it to cool, yet he hadn’t tried another sip.

My mother’s words from earlier ate at the back of my mind. They’ve fallen from grace. Was it possible? Without second-guessing myself, I swiped Leo’s coffee and took a sip. I’d been prepared to burn the roof of my mouth, but not for the horrid taste making my eyes water.

“Salt!” I sputtered, barely swallowing the wretched mouthful of coffee. “That’s disgusting.” I chased the taste with a gulp from my mocha, not caring if my entire face was covered in whipped cream.

“Give me that.” Leo took his coffee and dumped the contents into the trash. When he returned, I shook my head, certain the sugar swap hadn’t been an accident.

“Mrs. Avery and her husband have owned this shop for thirty years. They have the best coffee in town. Explain to me how yours tastes like drinking caffeinated seawater.”

Leo let out a long sigh. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it already. I figured they were pulling people over on the town line to let them know I was the village outcast. ”

“Nope, it was clear sailing. But I did see someone stuffing mailboxes with flyers. I thought it was for an estate sale, but I guess it was one of those old fashioned wanted posters. Ooh, maybe your photo is in the post office right next to mine.” I let out a dry laugh, imagining our faces side-by-side in some strange plot device where instead of swapping bodies, we swapped popularity.

Leo made a face and finished the last of his cookie. “Well, let me fill you in on the town gossip. Not only have Mrs. Avery and her husband owned this shop for thirty years, but they’ve been married for as long. They met at the local ice skating rink, and every year on their anniversary, they returned to the rink to skate—hand in hand because apparently, some relationships can stand the test of time.”

My eye twitched. I didn’t care for the sarcasm in his tone or the loaded insinuation.

“So what happened?”

“My father’s company bought the land and demolished the rink to build luxury condos. You know, the kind no regular person can afford.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Leo filled in the silence for me.

“On a related note, remember the town gazebo where the Averys had their wedding ceremony, along with just about everyone else in town? Yeah, there’s a parking lot in its place now. Also, thanks to my father. Honestly, I haven’t had a proper cup of coffee in this town since I arrived home. I’m surprised they let me in the door. It’s only because I’m here with you.”

I was stunned. I had missed a juicy holiday letter last year. Things with Leo were so much worse than I’d imagined. My situation seemed like a breeze. Uncontrollable snow might follow me around, but at least it wasn’t an angry mob with sharpened ice skates and a mind for vengeance.

“That explains the salt,” I said. As well as the dagger eyes from Mrs. Avery.

“People aren’t happy I purchased the ski lodge. They’re voting with their wallets and turning tourists away. Which is why I want your help.” He leaned in, took a pen from his pocket, and dumped the bowler’s head off the napkin, then scribbled something onto the paper.

I squinted at the handwritten agreement awaiting my signature. “You want me to help you save the ski resort, and in return, you’ll help keep my secret from everyone in town?”

Leo nodded. “Until you go back to the city, no one will be the wiser. You’ll leave a hero. To sweeten the deal, I even have a glass trophy you can use to pass off as your award. No physical shape-shifting required. Unless you plan to superglue that head back on and try again with the bowling trophy.”

I folded my arms and studied Leo. He was serious! How had we gone from a non-starter first date, to not speaking for years, to brokering a deal on a napkin?

“You realize in my line of work, you are exactly the kind of man I would help the town get rid of. In fact, I’ve done it. Twice. You’re the villain. ”

Leo’s jaw tightened. “Then you’ll know how to do it in reverse.”

“I need time to think about it,” I said, shocking myself for not turning him down flat.

“Fine. Let me know when you decide.” Leo tucked the agreement into his pocket and punched his number into my phone. “I have to get back to the resort. Happy Thanksgiving, Sage,” he murmured before he walked toward the exit.

Every eye in the shop watched him go. I sat there for a long moment, staring at the broken trophy.

Am I a complete fool? I should have cut him off at the knees. He tried to blackmail me! Old Sage, the woman walking around with a shattered snow globe where her heart used to be, would have thrown the bowler's head in his face.

Despite that, I'd worked enough cases to trust my instincts. By all appearances, Leo didn’t deserve a second chance. But that was the funny thing about miracles. They often found you.

I pulled out my phone while I walked back to my parents’ house. The first call dropped before it connected, and I had to wait until the signal bars appeared again. But my next call went through and Delia answered as I flopped backward onto my twin mattress and stared at the boy band on the ceiling.

“I need your advice,” I said.

“Let me guess. You’re trapped inside a guided meditation. Just follow my voice. You’re getting very sleepy. Wait—that’s hypnosis. What’s your problem? ”

I filled her in on the last few days, my newfound celebrity status, and my disastrous history with Leo.

“And the worst part is I’m considering helping the man who humiliated me and broke my heart win over the town to save his ski resort. Is that strange?”

“Yes, because you’re supposed to be relaxing. Did you not get my email?”

“I did. But I’m starting to suspect self-care is a little more involved than getting fresh air and a solid eight hours of sleep.” I shuddered. “I might have to heal old wounds.”

Delia laughed. “No kidding. Do you think the agency initiates Operation Merry Reset because you don’t use your vacation time? You have past trauma, babe.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I grumbled, punching the pillow behind my head.

“Because agent 101 is to let the subjects discover their journey organically. Remember when I told you to date, and you told me you wanted to marry your job, or something equally nasty? You can’t tell someone what to do. They have to figure it out for themselves.”

I blew out a breath and kicked off my boots. They hit the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. “You know, you’re pretty good at this agent thing. It’s only a matter of time until you get your first case.”

“From your mouth to the division head’s ears. So what are you going to do about your dilemma?”

“Good question. If I don’t help, and the lodge goes under, my parents will lose the chance to earn extra money to replace their retirement savings. So there’s plenty of guilt there. And I don’t want to see the town lose another piece of its character. Even if that means helping Leo.”

There was also the uncomfortable realization that I missed the person I’d been when I was with Leo and the way he made me feel. I pressed my lips into a frown. “Leo and I are adults now. I suppose I could lead with forgiveness and maturity.”

Delia snorted. “That’s a choice. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for maturity, but have a little fun first.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well, Leo publicly broke your heart and made you question his sincerity. If you’re planning to help the man, stuff a little payback in his Christmas stocking first. It’ll make you feel good. You’ll take back your power, and it might stop the snow. Then you can get your butt back here and help me get a date with Simon.”

I shook my head. Delia was persistent, I’d give her that. “I’m hanging up, now.”

“Okay! Good luck with healing your wounds. Bring me back a souvenir. Something expensive. Bye!”

Take back my power, huh? If there was one thing absent in my life, it was a certain level of joy. And joy seemed like a mandatory quality for someone responsible for doling out miracles. Somewhere along the line, I’d become so consumed with proving myself, I’d forgotten to have any fun.

Revenge might be exactly what the doctor ordered .

I grabbed a notebook on the bedside table and opened it to a blank page. If the town wanted an agent of the year, they’d get her.