And even though she knew she shouldn’t, knew she’d drawn lines for a reason, Honey let herself stay like that.
It was a dangerous kind of feeling. The kind that made her forget about boundaries. The kind that made her wish she didn’t have to remember them in the morning.
Chapter 23
Honey
“The Kettle?” Honey tilted her head as she looked through the windshield, surprised by their destination.
The little café was nestled between the market and the post office, its painted sign swinging slightly in the breeze. Honey had passed it when she was in town that first day, thinking it was a breakfast place, maybe the kind with loose leaf tea and some vaguely magical scones. Not exactly the destination she’d imagined when Ethan had said their plans weren’tstrictlylegal.
“Why did you let me think it was something more nefarious than caffeine after dark?”
Ethan rounded the front of the truck and opened the passenger door for her, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Who says it isn’t?”
The words shouldn’t have sent a shiver down her spine, but they did.
From the outside, The Kettle looked closed for the night. The moon’s glow reflected in the glass of the darkened windows. But as she stepped out of the truck, Honey noticed subtle signs of life: a light flickering faintly atthe very back, the faint hum of something, and the soft scent of sugar drifting on the air.
Ethan ignored the closed sign and pushed the front door open.
“Breaking and entering?” Honey asked. “Is this what you do on your nights off?”
“The door was open.”
“I’m pretty sure it still counts.”
But she followed him anyway.
Inside, the café was cozy and eerie all at once. The main lights were off, but a trail of what looked like homemade candles flickered along the counter. Mismatched chairs surrounded each table. The walls were painted in deep sage green. On one shelf near the register sat a row of labeled jars—dandelion honey, whipped cinnamon clover, hot pepper bee balm—like a display equal parts apothecary and bakery.
She followed Ethan across to the far back corner where a bookshelf leaned against the wall, sagging slightly under the weight of stacked novels, potted succulents, and a precariously placed candle or two that set Honey’s anxiety twitching. Just as she was about to point out the fire hazard, Ethan reached up and knocked twice on the edge of the top shelf.
With a mechanical click, the bookcase creaked, and then swung open.
Her mouth dropped. “You’re kidding.”
But he just looked over his shoulder and smiled. “After you.”
A hum of voices drifted up from the secret doorway, and the earthy scent of magic grew stronger.
As he descended the stairs, he reached back and took her hand.
It might have thrilled her, if her heart hadn’t already been racing for entirely different reasons. Her instincts warred with each other—half of her wanted to lean into the mystery. The other half was half-convinced she was about to violate enough statutes to make her head spin.
The staircase was steep and narrow, lit by soft string lights woven through dried herbs. The air grew warmer as they descended, and the hum of conversation grew louder and clearer.
At the bottom of the stairs stood Clover. She’d swapped out the sweater for a slinky dress in that same bewitching green but kept the combat boots. A few rebellious tendrils of hair had slipped free from her buns and framed her face.
“Welcome to the Dark Leaf,” she said with a crooked smile. “Where the tea’s strong, the stakes are high, and nothing tastes as sweet as a little risk.”
Honey opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this.
“You playing tonight?” Clover asked, her eyes already flicking to the way Ethan still held onto Honey’s hand.
“Just watching,” Ethan said, voice low and smooth, his hand staying exactly where it was. “For now.”
Clover’s grin widened. “Suit yourself. Drinks are at the bar. Flint’s mixing tonight. And watch your hand near the table. Someone’s running a hot streak.”
