A Charmed Life (Coven Corner #3) Page 2

  It was obvious that Bryony was uncomfortable making the offer of assistance to prepare Hazel for her date. But Bryony was her best friend and she would stick her neck out for Hazel, even if it meant she found herself in completely unfamiliar territory.

  “I appreciate the thought,” Hazel said. “But it’s the first date. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions. I’ll keep it simple for now.”

  Bryony released an exhale of relief and tipped her head back.

  “Oh, thank sweet Mother Hecate,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do if you’d said yes.”

  Hazel smiled and shifted to stand beside Bryony. She gathered Bryony’s hair into her hands and twisted it off of her neck.

  “We could do something with your hair instead though,” she said.

  Bryony squirmed out of reach, her hair spilling around her shoulders again.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she said. “You stick to your pearls and elegant up-dos, all right? I’m perfectly happy the way I am with my dirty jeans and oversized sweaters.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if you’re part troll.”

  “Maybe I am. You’d love me anyway.”

  Hazel hummed and raised an eyebrow. “Only if you managed to clean the rest of my schoolhouse.”

  “Working on it,” Bryony replied as she turned and hurried out of the room.

  Then she popped her head back into the room one last time.

  “Sky would say that this Nick Butler would fall madly in love with you,” Bryony added. “But if he doesn’t, just let me know.”

  “I will do no such thing.”

  Bryony frowned. “Why not?”

  “Because you have a reputation for doling out black eyes.”

  Bryony snickered, her eyes gleaming with a wicked light before she ducked out sight again.

  But Hazel smiled to herself. Even if life took her best friends in other directions and gave them families of their own, she was grateful for the time she did have with them, their shining faces and undying loyalty.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Hazel was early. Too early. But she needed to get out of the house before she changed her clothes for the fifth time. She had no idea why she was so fidgety.

  But something about Nick Butler made her flustered. She hardly knew him, she chastised herself. There was no reason to lose her composure over a man she’d just met.

  And yet she couldn’t stop a flush of heat creeping into her cheeks at the memory of his smile, the way he so softly said her name.

  Nick arrived on time. He stepped into The Eye of Newt, wearing a navy blue sweater and black jeans. His eyes lit up when his gaze settled on Hazel at a table by the window—enchanted with a setting like a meadow. Rustling grasses, bobbing heads of daisies, lazy butterflies drifting across the salt and pepper shakers.

  “I hope you weren’t waiting long,” Nick said as he pulled out a chair across from her.

  “No, no,” Hazel lied, waving him off. “Not at all.”

  Nick had barely taken his seat before the jingle of a ringtone made him sigh. He held up one finger.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I have to get that.”

  Hazel raised an eyebrow as Nick withdrew his phone from his back pocket. A gradual sinking feeling took root in her stomach. She understood responsibilities, especially for a single parent like Nick. But she hoped he wasn’t one of those humans attached to his phone every waking moment of the day. She didn’t have much patience for that.

  Nick swore under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. And when he glanced up at Hazel again, his eyes were filled with an impending apology.

  Hazel straightened in her seat, bracing for the disappointment that was about to hit her.

  “It’s Phoebe,” he said. “The babysitter says she ate something that’s made her sick.”

  A pang of guilt shot through Hazel’s chest. She shoved aside her disappointment, concern flaring at the mention of a sick child.

  “What was it?” Hazel said.

  Nick raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

  “What did she eat?”

  “Oh. I don’t know. The babysitter said Phoebe was complaining of stomach pains. Then she started…”

  Nick trailed off with a grimace.

  “Throwing up?” Hazel offered. It wasn’t polite dinner conversation but clearly dinner was off the table now. There was no need to maintain pretenses.

  Nick exhaled with relief. “Yes. How did you know?”

  Hazel picked up her purse from the table and stood.

  “I’ve seen more than my fair share of sick children,” she said. “Little details like that don’t bother me. I can take a look at her if you like.”

  Nick scrambled to his feet. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” Nick floundered, searching for the right words. “When I asked you out tonight, I wasn’t looking for a nurse maid for my kid.”

  Hazel softened at the frustration in his tone, the honesty of his words.

  “I appreciate the sentiment, Nick,” she replied. “But Phoebe is your primary concern. We can postpone our date for another time. It’s no problem.”

  Nick rubbed at the back of his neck. “Are you sure?”

  Hazel nodded. “Absolutely. Now, let me get my broom and I’ll follow you to your home.”

  “I can drive you, if you like.”

  “Flying is faster.”

  Nick huffed a laugh. “That’s true. Phoebe loves flying. I envy her for it every time I see her in the sky.”

  By the time Hazel retrieved her broom from the closet by the door and stepped out of the bakery, Nick was on the road in his truck, the rumbling engine idling.

  There were a few humans in Wildemoor that drove cars but it was such a rare occurrence that it was jarring to hear an engine. It was loud and rough, like an animal’s growl.

  Hazel kicked off of the ground and her broom carried her into the air, hovering next to and slightly above Nick’s truck. She gestured for him to continue and Nick nodded, raising a hand in acknowledgement.

  It was only two miles to Nick’s house—a modest little wood-hewn cottage, with green shutters, sprawling petunias in window boxes, a stack of firewood leaning against one side of the house. Tucked behind the house was a garage, littered with spare parts, a tangle of shiny new and old rusted metal.

  Nick took the steps two at a time and opened the door. He gestured for Hazel to wait there.

  “Let me talk to Phoebe first,” he said. “She’s a little uneasy around strangers.”

  Hazel nodded. “Of course.”

  Nick disappeared into the house. Two minutes later, he returned and gestured for her to come inside.

  The interior was just as cozy as the outside with an old-fashioned wood burning stove tucked in the corner of the living room and an open kitchen off to one side.

  Nick pointed to a wooden staircase.

  “She’s up here,” he said.

  Hazel trailed after him. Phoebe’s room was a wash of pink and black. Dozens of cat pictures were strewn across the walls. Crayons and markers lay scattered across the floor.

  Phoebe huddled in her bed, a massive pink comforter pulled up to her eyes.

  With one look, Hazel could tell Phoebe wasn’t sick at all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Nick perched on the edge of Phoebe’s bed and peeled the blanket back to reveal her face. A feverish pink blushed Phoebe’s cheeks.

  The scent of magic—sweet with a hint of smokiness underneath—still lingered in the air. That wasn’t unusual for a household that contained a witch. That smell was around constantly. But it was fresh. Meaning Phoebe had cast a spell recently.

  Hazel doubted it was a spell to make her feel better.

  “Phoebe,” Nick whispered as he brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “You remember Miss Aven, don’t you? Your new school teacher. We met her the other day at the school’s open house.”

  Phoebe s
cowled and burrowed under the covers. Nick glanced over his shoulder with an apologetic look.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Once she warms up to you, she’ll be a non-stop chatterbox, I swear.”

  Hazel set her purse on the dresser by the door and withdrew her wand. It was made of smooth gray birchwood, with sprouts of golden leaves unfurling at the tip.

  “There’s no need to apologize,” she said. She gestured with her wand at the bed. “May I sit?”

  “No,” came the muffled response from Phoebe beneath her covers.

  “Yes,” Nick said, shifting over to make room for her.

  Hazel settled beside him, careful to keep her knee from accidentally brushing against his. She had to focus and if she came into contact with Nick, she was sure she wouldn’t be able to concentrate.

  “Phoebe, honey,” Nick coaxed. “The babysitter said you were sick, that you ate something and it didn’t agree with you. Could you tell me what it was?”

  “Make her go away,” Phoebe replied, sullen.

  There was no mistake who Phoebe meant by “her”. Hazel bowed her head, poking her tongue into her cheek. Nick sighed.

  “You’re being rude, kiddo,” he said. “Now sit up so Miss Aven can help you.”

  “No.”

  Hazel reached out, almost—but not quite—touching Nick’s arm.

  “How old is Phoebe?”

  “Six,” he replied.

  Hazel nodded with a noise of understanding. She gestured to the door.

  “Could you give us a moment?” she said. “I have a feeling this matter involves…” She paused with a pointed look. “Magic.”

  “Ah,” Nick said. “Then I’d be no help in that department. I’ll leave you to it. If you need me, I’ll be in the hall.”

  Phoebe flung the covers aside, her dark hair frizzy with static electricity.

  “Daddy, you can’t go!” she wailed, tears spilling over her cheeks in a heartbeat. “I don’t want to stay here with her!”

  Nick smoothed Phoebe’s hair away from her face and gently pushed her back onto the bed.

  “Her name is Miss Aven,” he said. “Use it. And she’s a witch, just like you. She’s been very kind and offered to help. So, you just sit there and behave yourself, all right?”

  Phoebe crossed her arms and turned away to stare at the wall. Nick patted her back and walked out of the room, easing the door shut behind him.

  Hazel tapped her wand in her hand for a moment, considering her plan of action.

  “That’s a very convincing fever spell you’ve cast on yourself,” she said. “I know some witches who’ve never quite caught the knack of that one.”

  Phoebe remained silent and didn’t move.

  “It takes a lot of strength,” Hazel continued. “To cast a spell over yourself that doesn’t make you feel good.”

  Phoebe rounded on her then.

  “I’ll do anything,” she hissed. “To keep you away from my daddy.”

  She plunged beneath the covers again. Hazel sat there, blinking. But she wasn’t surprised. Children had reacted to her that way before, with loathing and hatred, because she was a teacher, the one to inflict homework and punishment.

  To Phoebe, Hazel was a double threat. Not only her new school teacher but a possible figure in her father’s life as well—a potential mother figure to replace the one who had left her three years ago.

  Hazel patted the lump of covers where Phoebe was hiding. Phoebe squirmed with a grunt.

  “Your father and I,” Hazel said. “Were just having a nice dinner together. That’s all.”

  Phoebe huffed. “I don’t believe you.”

  That was one of the things Hazel loved about working with children. They were honest. Sometimes brutally so. And they were observant to a point that most adults were not.

  Hazel stroked the leaves of her birchwood wand in thought. Maybe she should have never accepted the dinner invitation from Nick in the first place. It would complicate her relationship with Phoebe at school. Phoebe had enough to worry about.

  Hazel whispered a healing spell and let it settle over Phoebe’s bed, as soft and gentle as spider silk. Then she stood, grabbed her purse from the dresser, and stepped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

  Nick was waiting. Not quite listening at the door. But it was close.

  “Is she okay?” he said. “What happened?”

  “She’s fine,” Hazel replied. “Just a little…” She hesitated. It didn’t seem fair to tattle on Phoebe. The girl was scared, that much was obvious. She’d lost her mother. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her father too.

  “Just a little magical mishap,” Hazel said. “Nothing that couldn’t be cleared up. I cast a healing spell over her and she should feel better in no time.”

  Nick sighed with a smile. “I owe you one. Thank you so much.”

  Hazel waved him off. “It was no trouble.” She tucked her wand in her purse and hooked the strap over her shoulder. “I should get going.”

  Nick gestured to the stairs. “Would you like to stay for a while? I can make tea or coffee or something.”

  Hazel’s heart squeezed. She wanted to say yes. But she knew she shouldn’t, not when she could still smell the sweet burn of Phoebe’s magic.

  “That’s very kind of you,” Hazel said. “But perhaps another time.”

  Meaning never.

  She liked Nick in a way she hadn’t liked anyone else before. He was polite and soft-spoken, a gentleman in every sense of the word. But as long as Phoebe would be under her direction at Windywings, she had no right to be involved in a relationship with him.

  She hoped she could find some way to let him down easy.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was the first week of September and the promise of impending autumn was beginning to taint the leaves with touches of color—lush reds, vibrant oranges, bright yellows.

  And the first day of school had finally arrived.

  Students poured into the schoolhouse, a majority of them arriving on broomsticks. A handful of them had human parents who chose to drive them to school.

  Like Nick.

  His battered pick-up truck pulled in alongside the schoolhouse and the door popped open. Phoebe jumped to the ground in purple converse sneakers and a sparkly black skirt.

  “Be good today,” Nick called to her.

  “I don’t want to go,” Phoebe countered.

  “You have to, sweetheart. I’ll pick you up afterwards and we’ll get something from The Eye of Newt, all right?”

  Phoebe cocked her head. “Cookies? With extra butterscotch drizzled on the top?”

  “Only if you behave yourself.”

  Phoebe wrinkled her nose, weighing whether or not good behavior was worth the promise of sweets. In the end, she nodded and waved as she closed the door of the truck.

  Nick waited as Phoebe climbed the steps of the schoolhouse. Hazel studiously kept her gaze focused on Phoebe and didn’t look at him. She had no desire to encourage him in any way. Even eye contact could send the wrong message, an open invitation for further communication. She couldn’t afford that.

  “Good morning, Phoebe,” Hazel said as Phoebe passed her.

  Phoebe pretended not to notice Hazel and stomped into the schoolhouse.

  Hazel smiled to herself. She always had at least one student who proved to be a challenge, stretching her problem-solving skills and her patience to the limit. She liked those children the most. They tested her and made her a better teacher.

  This year, it seemed Phoebe was definitely that student.

  ***

  Phoebe’s wand remained on her desk, untouched, as she sat in her chair and refused to perform a lick of magic.

  The rest of the class brandished their wands like swords or fluttered them like feathers as they attempted to conjure a penny from thin air. Some of the students were successful, with neat rows of pennies on their desks. While others struggled, conjuring instead an array of other items—
cotton balls, bumblebees, tomatoes, and even a small garden snake, much to Hazel’s dismay. She had to call Bryony to fetch it and take it outside.

  But Phoebe remained resolutely in her seat, arms crossed, a frown permanently etched onto her face.

  “Phoebe,” Hazel said. “Is there a problem?”

  No answer.

  A shower of pennies rained down on Seline Torres’ head and she shrieked with joy. She spread her hands in delight, attempting to catch as many pennies as she could and stuff them in her pockets.

  But then the realized the pennies weren’t stopping.

  “Miss Aven!” she called, a small wisp of panic slipping into her voice. “I think I messed up.”

  Hazel gave a twirl of her wand and the pennies vanished. She flicked her wand again and the other non-penny items littered across desks were cleared away.

  Hazel rose from her chair and came to stand in front of Phoebe.

  “Is everything all right?” she said.

  Silence.

  “Are you feeling well?”

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” Phoebe grumbled.

  Hazel stowed her wand in the pocket of her skirt. “That’s fine. But your lessons require you to conjure a penny, like the other children.”

  “I don’t care about pennies,” Phoebe replied. “I want to go home and be with my daddy.”

  “You will. Just as soon as you’re finished with school for the day.”

  Phoebe huffed and turned away in her seat.

  “Okay,” Hazel said. “Class, please open your spellbooks to the Mabon section. We’ll need to get some trees started to plant for the autumn equinox.”

  Hazel returned to her desk as her students scrambled to drag their heavy spellbooks out of their desks or their packs. Phoebe didn’t move.

  “Please pick a partner for this lesson,” Hazel said.

  Students glanced around the room, locking hands or elbowing with each other as they claimed partners. Seline glanced at Phoebe with a wary look. Then she picked up her spellbook and thumped it on Phoebe’s desk.

  “Will you be my partner?” she said.

  Phoebe shrugged. Seline, undaunted, began flipping through the pages until she found the Mabon section and jabbed a finger at the tree seeds section.