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Twenty-one years old.

When I was twenty-one, Lois and I were freshly married and going out dancing every weekend.

Jesus.

I shake her hand once and then drop it, but my palm burns where her fingers brushed across it.

“Suzanne Richards will be in touch.”

Margo makes a face.

I can’t help but laugh.

“She’s nicer when you’re doing business with her. Trust me.”

“I guess you would know.” She looks at me, a slight frown on her face. “How did you know my last name, anyway?”

I stiffen. “Saw your article in the paper last year.”

That much is true, at least. I hadn’t remembered her name, though, until I claimed her wish.

Her face softens. “Ah. That makes sense. Well it’s good to meet you, Mr. Riv⁠—”

“Gabe.”

“Yes.” She looks down, just the ghost of a smile on her pouty lips. “Gabe. I suppose I’ll see you soon.”

“You will.”

She looks up again, still smiling, and then turns around and walks over to a small sedan.

I don’t close the door until she backs out of the driveway.

My heart hammers against my ribs.

Meeting Margo Reyes in person did nothing at all to break the spell.

In fact, something tells me it’s going to get much worse.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MARGO

Del helps me load all of the ingredients into my car. I’m on my way to the vineyard after receiving a much-needed deposit from Town Hall.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come and help?”

“I’m sure,” I say firmly. “You can’t get in any more trouble at the office, Del. They’re already on your ass because of what you said during that meeting.”

“Listen, just because I’m the youngest engineer on the team doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have a say in our quarterly budget.”

I stare at her. “You told your boss his toupee looked like a squirrel’s ass.”

“It did!”

I chuckle, shaking my head as we load the last bag of flour in.

“I’ve got it handled. Don’t worry.”