“Did you want me to say please?” Dom raised his eyebrows.
“Four okay?” Brandon took out a small notepad and a pencil.
“Six.”
“You’re really smitten, then.”
“I really, really am,” Dom admitted, his eyes still trailing Allie around the yard. She looked like she belonged there, surrounded by the fall colors that matched her hair. Next to his bakery. With him.
Brandon clapped him on the shoulder. “Really glad about all these reallys, Dom.”
The day before the weekend was eerily quiet, and Allie spent her downtime in the bakery reading up on “Baking for Dummies.” It was, of course, easier and much more enjoyable when Dom was teaching her in the kitchen, but Allie had slacked on enriching her knowledge on her own. She was flipping through “no-bake recipes” when Mia walked in, clad in a denim jacket with a thick scarf around her neck, brown leather boots, and jeans similar to Allie’s.
“Come with me to Harper’s coffee shop this weekend,” Mia said, leaning over the counter and sticking her nose in Allie’s book. “Her pumpkin spice latte special is finally for sale. Later than it was supposed to be,” she muttered. “Besides. You’ve been here, what? Almost six weeks now?” Allie did the quick math andnodded, ignoring the pang of anxiety that came with the thought of her seven-week deadline. “And you’ve never been to Harp’s.”
Mia had a point, but Allie couldn’t help but think about the reasons she kept more to herself during her time here. For one, she had been very busy with work. A huge part of her free time went to practicing, especially before she got her power under control. But if she were honest with herself, Allie hadn’t frequented these places because she felt like it wasn’t her place. Witches didn’t join activities, or go to restaurants, or participate in society more than sourcing potions, doing Readings, or anything else their magic could contribute to someone’s life. They were cunning creatures, and they lived socially only amongst themselves.
But Allie did not want to be like that.
“I’d love to,” she told Mia. Her happy smile was worth however many sneers and scowls she’d get by going with her.
“Hey, Dom!” Mia shouted, angling her head to peer down the narrow hallway. Her brother stepped out of the kitchen, his black apron dusted with flour and speckled with dough, hands up like a surgeon’s, covered with something gooey.
“What?” His question was less barked than usual, and Allie smiled at seeing him soften for Mia. Dominic blew a wild lock of deep brown hair out of his face. Once. Twice.
Allie chuckled. “Come here.” As if under a spell, Dom leaned toward her, then checked himself, confusion filling his beautiful green eyes. Allie twirled his hair around her finger, which was entirely selfish and totally unnecessary, then placed the naughty strand behind his ear, combing it with her fingers to make sure it stayed put. “There.”
Mia cleared her throat loudly, making them flinch and veer away from each other.
“We’re going to Harp’s this weekend. Come with us,” Mia told more than asked her brother, pinning him with a daunting look.
“Brandon and I are going to the Sanders’ this weekend.”
“After you’re back, then,” she said with a dramatic eye roll.
“Fine.” Dom turned back to the kitchen, though not before moving his eyes over Allie’s face, down her neck, over her sweater, and back up.
“He’s in a good mood,” Mia noted. “Any ideas why?”
“None whatsoever,” Allie lied, but she couldn’t contain her smile, or the way her cheeks heated. “Let me tell you about this recipe.”
Allie’s attempt to draw Mia’s attention to anything other than her brother failed spectacularly, and Mia dragged her out of the bakery, shouting to Dom that she was stealing Allie for a walk. A string of grumbles followed them out the door from the back of the shop.
They strolled down Maple Street to the huge park where the Harvest Festival would take place next week. It felt like yesterday Allie had followed Mia here to sign them up for the best booths. The weather had gotten colder and the days shorter, but Allie loved every minute of it. She was still in awe of the burnt orange landscape, the clean, crisp air, and the chilly mornings with her hot cups of coffee. Her favorite discovery was stepping on crunchy leaves, so she would sometimes walk funny to get the best ones.
“What’s on your mind?” Mia asked her.
“I just love this place,” Allie sighed. “Despite everyone counting the minutes until I leave.”
“Pfft.” Mia waved a hand. “Don’t worry about that. People here hate outsiders, period. I know, I know. Your witchy roots don’t help, but still.” Her friend nudged her. “You could always stay longer,amiga.”
Allie had a thousand arguments against that statement, all flocking to her mind at once. Yet none broke free because she still had a little time left here, and she did not want to waste any moment thinking about what waited for her after she left Sycamore Falls.
She smiled at Mia and changed the subject, and her friend did not bring it up again.
They checked the two booths for Mia’s and Dom’s shops, and the Archivist took note to bring extra shelves for the discounted books for the festival. Allie inspected the bakery booth, amazed by the space and the display case carved into it.
“It’s turning out really well,” Allie exclaimed. Two long rows of booths faced each other, and nestled between them were wooden tables and benches, a few chairs, and bins. Poles were being installed to accommodate the fairy lights. A myriad of hay bales were scattered around, surrounded by and piled with different kinds of pumpkins. It was still a work in progress, but Allie could see the magic that would come to life once everything was done. “What’s going on there?” She pointed to the eastern side of the park, where a huge red and white striped vinyl canvas covered the ground.
