“It’s cute,” I say, studying the screen.
“What would you do different?” Magan asks.
I lean in. “Well, your header… is that your brand? Do you use it on everything?”
“No. I just used a template.”
“Ah. Well, that’s where I’d start. Design a logo and branding materials for you. For the website, for signage in the store, shopping bags…”
“That would be wonderful!” Magan says.
“It really would.”
“Um…” I grimace and look between Felise and Magan. “Can’t you just… you know… snap your fingers or twitch your nose… and have a new website?”
They both burst into giggles. Magan is more serious, but when she laughs, she’s a joy. Cassie and Joe laugh too.
“You have a lot to learn,” Cassie says gently.
I hate feeling stupid.
“I’m so glad you decided to truly become part of our family,” she adds.
I want to be her when I grow up—so generous and caring. I’m not her daughter, but you’d think I was from how she treats me. It must be because she loves Joe so much, and that’s really… beautiful.
I grew up with a single mom who barely dated. I’ve had a couple of unremarkable relationships that ended without much angst. What do I know about loving relationships? Nothing, that’s what. But I know I’d like to have that.
And I have sisters.
And… Trace. Felise and Magan treat him like their brother. He grew up with them after his parents died. Should I think of him as a brother?
Nope, that boat has left the dock, after all those scorching, panty-melting kisses.
Yikes. Maybe that was a big mistake. Not that we knew it at the time, but now… we probably shouldn’t be engaging in sex acts. Or acts that lead to sex.
Bummer.
My eyes meet his, and a current of electricity zaps down my spine, leaving me tingling.
Now that… that felt like magic.
The front doorbell rings.
“Oh, that’ll be the rest of the family.” Joe stands. “They’re so excited to meet you.”
Cassie meets my eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Joe’s the one who’s excited. I told him not to invite everyone over right away, but… he did it anyway.”
Apparently a Greyhound bus pulled up out front and the passengers are now filling the house. Everyone else jumps up to greet the new arrivals, so I stand too, hanging back since I don’t know anyone. There are hugs and loud greetings and back slaps, the house bursting with noise.
Then an older man beelines toward me and stops. He peers at me from beneath thick gray eyebrows. “So. You must be Romy.”
“Yes.” I attempt a smile. “Romy Larson.”
“This is my dad,” Joe says, joining us and setting a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “George Candler.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Candler.”
“You can’t call me that.”
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth briefly.
“You should call me Grandpa.”
My eyes widen and I glance at Joe. “Um…”
“Call him George,” Joe says gently. “Take it easy, Dad.”
“Okay, fine, George.”
“Okay, everyone!” Joe calls out. “This is Romy. I’m not going to introduce you all right now because she’ll never remember all of you.”
I gaze around at the multitude of faces—men Joe’s age, women who are their wives, I guess? Younger people about my age, men and women. One woman holds a baby, and there are also several children. They’re all smiling with curiosity but warmth.
I think I’m going to throw up.
“Go on out to the sunroom!” Cassandra calls. “I’m going to set out the dessert buffet. Joe will get you all drinks.”
“So much for my well-stocked bar,” he mutters, then shoots me a wry smile. “Come on, Romy.”
I pick up my wineglass as the others move toward the sunroom. Felise and Magan throw open french doors leading onto a deck. I gravitate toward them since they’re the only ones I know. Felise is already chattering with another young woman, but Magan, more reserved than Felise but also maybe more perceptive, approaches me. “You look terrified.”
“Shit.”
She laughs. “I’m kidding.” She grabs the arm of the young man near her and tugs him forward. “This is my boyfriend, Dallas. Dallas, this is Romy.”
“Nice to meet you.” I smile at him as we shake hands.
“Come on, hang with us and eventually you’ll meet everyone,” Magan says.
I watch as family fills the sunroom and spills out onto the wooden deck. It’s like a clown car of never-ending people. Okay, I’m exaggerating. Still, it seems like a lot.
10
Trace
I guess I’ve gotten what I deserve after chasing Romy and convincing her to take a chance on the Candlers. I should have just let her go. Now I have to tutor her in witchcraft. Just fucking great.
I don’t want to practice witchcraft. Other than that little spell at the Singing Horse (only so I could score a kiss), I haven’t been using my powers. I studied and researched and practiced for years after the accident to find a way to bring my family back to me, to no avail. My attempts to get a special dispensation were rejected. I’m supposed to have supreme powers. I’m supposed to follow in my father’s footsteps and become an archmage, which is the head of the Board of Elders. But what’s the point if I can’t do the one thing I want to do? I was discouraged, so I’ve distanced myself from the coven.
Now I’m stuck, tutoring a new witch.
Never mind that it’s Romy. I’m shockingly attracted to her, but how the hell am I going to teach her without my own bitterness influencing her? And without being all over her like a monkey on a cupcake?
Shit.
Shaking off my irritation, I look around. This is like a freakin’ Candler reunion. I haven’t seen some of these cousins since last summer when Natalie Candler got married. I make the rounds, saying hi to people who aren’t my family but who treat me like I am.
Standing with Uncle Chuck and Aunt Stella, I watch Romy as I tip my beer up and guzzle down half the bottle.
“Easy there, Tracer.” Chuck lifts his eyebrows at me slugging back my beverage.
“I’m thirsty,” I say absently.
I can’t seem to drag my eyes off Romy’s bare shoulders, all sleek and gleaming in the evening sun, her shiny, dark hair, her killer legs. She smiles at Maryon holding baby Jack, her face all soft as she touches Jack’s little hand.
“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” Stella asks.
I look at Stella. “Who?”
Her lips twitch. “The young lady you’re staring at.”
I gulp more beer. “I better go see if Cassie needs any help.”
I escape back into the house, hustling into the kitchen where Cassie is arranging an assortment of desserts on the big island. “What can I do?” I ask.
She smiles. “Not a thing. I think we’re all set. Help yourself. I’ll let you go first because you’re my favorite.”