Pumpkin Spice & Poltergeist (Maple Hollow #1)

I could’ve sworn she glared at the cat, who was now weaving a figure eight around nothing at all.

“It wasn’t the cat,” I quickly added.

“I know.” She began sweeping the broken glass and green powder into a pile, careful not to touch it. “Ichabod knows better.”

“Ichabod,” I crooned, already falling in love with the sweet black cat. “That is such a cute name.”

She hummed in reply.

I tipped my head toward the pile of glass and green dust. “What would’ve happened if I’d touched that?”

“You would’ve turned into a toad,” the woman replied dryly while she swept the pile into a dustpan. Then she turned away, taking everything with her. I swallowed a lump in my throat and wiped my clammy hands down my jean jacket. “That was a joke,” she added over her shoulder.

“Yeah, duh, I know.” I feigned a laugh. It was very clear that I did not, in fact, know it was a joke. “I’m just getting used to the whole ‘magic is real’ thing.”

She paused and glanced up at me from where she was tucking away the broom and dustpan. God, those eyes were mesmerizing. I wondered what sort of creature she was, this girl with the hypnotic eyes. Maybe some sort of siren?

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m Harlow, Willow Miller’s sister?” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat, trying to lower it back down an octave. “She owns Witch’s Brew Café?”

The woman’s eyes slid over me in a way that made me uneasy. “I didn’t realize Willow had a sister.”

“I’m a bit of a wild card. Or black sheep, really.” I fixed the hem of my apron nervously. “She was always our parents’ favorite. Probably because after high school, I moved out and I’ve been all over the place. I actually just moved here. She’s letting me work in her café, which was a really nice thing to do since she and I had kind of lost touch, which is really my fault. I’m kind of useless at replying to people and I’m . . . blabbing my life story to a total stranger. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” the woman said, although her expression was one of stone as she glared at the table again.

I instinctively edged away from it. Did she see a spider or something that I didn’t?

“No,” she said.

“Uh, no what?” I asked.

She blinked and her gaze snapped from the table back to me. “Sorry.” She shook her head as if clearing her thoughts. “I’m Jordyn. One of the local witches.”

“Jordyn,” I echoed. The name suited her. She had a smart, bookish, and—maybe I was overreaching—slightly queer vibe, like an Oxford professor and a Chapstick lesbian had a baby.

God, I really hoped she was gay. That would be amazing. Move to a new town. Find a hot girl. Who was a literal witch. Perfect.

I hadn’t really had high hopes that I’d be able to find any dates in a tiny place like Maple Hollow . . . and maybe—probably—I was getting way too far ahead of myself.

Did witches even date? Was she queer, or was she just magical? Although a lot of times, it felt like the same thing.

Jordyn said something too low for me to hear, and I moved back to browsing the shelves. My eyes kept snagging on her—her high-waisted charcoal trousers that hugged her slender frame, her chunky cardigan, and tight black tank top that showed off her gorgeous curves.

Was it weird to think that someone had the perfect-sized boobs for their body?

Okay, that was weird.

I needed to stop acting so chaotic.

I tried to focus on the bottles in front of me instead of the beautiful brunette. Maybe I was focusing a little too closely, though, or maybe she could teleport because the next thing I knew, she was standing right beside me.

“Constipation?” she asked.

My eyes flared as I whirled to her. “Excuse me?”

“Those bottles,” she said, pointing with a dainty finger, “are for constipation.”