Page 84 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

“The official textbook doesn’t say anything about sandwiches,” Simon pointed out.

“I know.”

“Or mangoes.”

“I know.”

“Hmm.” Simon took a few small steps over to the sandwich. He cocked his head, taking it in from all angles. He took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Licked his chops. “I understand now.”

“Understand what?”

“Why you didn’t return that horrid baker’s butter,” he said simply, a slight twinkle in his eye. Then he took another bite. “How long will it take you to make me another one of these things? With extra stolen butter?”

With a laugh, Talula got to work.

21

After Simon finished his third slider, he curled up for a nap, and a sense of peace settled over the café. Outside, the heavy morning mist turned to a light afternoon rain. Talula listened to the droplets pattering against the windows. She thought about Dahlia. She hoped her friend/crush/partner in Samhain survival would stop by for a late lunch bite. Just in case, Talula prepped more sandwiches.

As she set down a fresh batch, the bell above the café door chimed. Talula looked up to find one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen, wearing sleek slacks, a T-shirt, and a jacket that seemed casual and expensive. His irises twinkled like midnight-hued marbles.

He strode toward Talula, leaning close enough over the café counter to brush against her personal space. “Hey. Cool shop.”

Heat rushed into Talula’s cheeks. A part of her felt flattered by his attention. But underneath that, a strange, sick feeling rose in her stomach. It whispered, Get away get away get away. Talula shook it off, setting the plate of sliders down. “Thanks. Can I help you?”

“I’m just passing through town and saw this magical place.” He laughed, but there was something too sharp in it. It made Talula uncertain if she was in on the joke or the butt of it.

“How’s the coffee?” the stranger asked silkily.

“To be honest, it’s bad,” Talula replied, her barista smile feeling forced.

“It looks good from here.” His gaze dipped below Talula’s eye level.

“Trust me, it’s not.” She grabbed a rag and started polishing the espresso machine. “We’re more of an okay occult shop with a terrible café inside.”

The man slid a hand through his dark hair, revealing a silver cuff snug on his wrist. “I don’t mind bad coffee.”

Simon watched this exchange silently, his eyebrows furrowed. Meanwhile, Talula’s gut tugged. Get away get away get away.

Talula’s brain kept telling her to quit overthinking. The fact was, the man hadn’t done or said anything wrong. He was handsome, charming, maybe even flirtatious. She had no reason to feel nervous or uneasy. She was being unreasonable. Talula noticed that her fingers had formed a tight fist around her cleaning rag, knuckles white.

Why was she trying so hard to ignore her discomfort? Didn’t she owe herself more than she owed this stranger? Talula set down the rag and faced the man. “I’m sorry, but you have to go.”

For a fraction of a second, his sensual smile slipped. “Why’s that?”

Talula stiffened. She chose her next words carefully. “We’re closing. For inventory. You can’t be here.”

“I could help.” He propped his hands on the counter to lean even closer to Talula.

Never trust someone who treats your no like a challenge, Talula’s mother had told her once. Fury began to build in Talula’s stomach, tangled with bright threads of fear.

“Thanks for stopping by. Have a nice day.” Talula kept her customer service smile on but wouldn’t break eye contact. She heard Simon growling in the background.

“Actually, I’m the one who needs your help.” The man walked over to the gap between the wall and the café counter. He filled the space, trapping Talula at her barista station. “I’m looking for someone. Olive complexion. Crazy beautiful eyes, more amber than brown. They usually wear a headscarf and a necklace with a ring on it. Seen anybody like that?”

Kiki. Realization chilled Talula to her core.

“I think they sent something here, to this address. Did they come by to pick it up?” His blue eyes flitted around the shop, a predator looking for a hint of its prey.