Page 35 of Clearly Charmed

Bryce may have claimed that he didn’t believe in the magic angle, but the stories around here could be convincing. The more people spun our ‘gifts’, the easier it would be to add it as a thread to make his article as sensational as possible, even if none of it was true.

‘Hey.’ Bryce’s voice was like soft honey. ‘You okay?’

I wanted to say no. Run from the room and never look back. I remained in my spot, though, because Lia and Aster needed me to do this. Needed me to prove to this man that who we were, what we meant to this town, was nothing more than three women using their skills, talents and intelligence to make Harvest Moon a special place. But that small part of my heart, the one that always wondered if Belladonna was hiding dark secrets from us, forced me to nod and head straight for the stack of books waiting for us.

Chapter Twelve

A Lot to Protect

Who knew color-coding could be such a damn turn-on?

Bryce pulled a set of rainbow-hued notepads from his messenger bag and wrote out the years in neat, simple script on each one. 1873. 1875. 1876. 1887. 1904.

I don’t know how he did it, but he even made the number four look sexy.

Without sparing a glance at me, he set a note at the top of the table and then laid out each book based on the date embossed on its rich brown leather spine. He repeated the move until at least five books were crowded under their labeled year. I cleared my throat, and he looked over at me, his eyes stricken.

‘Shit. Sorry. I get into work mode and lose track of everything around me.’

‘No.’ I flailed my hand toward the neat stacks. ‘You’re making the job easier.’

‘Okay, good.’ He smirked. ‘Let’s start at the furthest date back and work our way forward.’

I laid a hand on a time-worn tome, whose yellowed pages and cracked cover said it’d been sitting in a dark and dusty place for much too long.

‘Who said anything about you leading?’ I said, a little heavy on the snark.

‘That’s fine by me. I like it when a woman takes control.’

I bit the inside of my cheek, reminding myself we were here to work, not flirt, even though the raw grittiness of his voice made several parts of my body tingle.

Stop it. No matter what Aster says, this guy is not THE ONE.

She’d been wrong once. She was wrong now.

The wafer-thin pages scratched against my fingertips. Most of the early archives covered the basics of the town’s incorporation. Requirements for getting government funding for things like a post office and a bank.

‘Dandelion, huh?’

I knew he wasn’t going to leave it alone.

‘My mother, Belladonna, is obsessed with a book called The Fellowship of Flowers. She swears by it. Says that personalities can be determined by asking someone what their favorite bloom is. When I was born, she named me Dandelion because they’re considered a symbol of resilience.’

He paused. Gave me an assessing and amused gaze. ‘Yep, it fits you.’

I swiped at his shoulder, but he caught my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. Like so many times before, there was a blast of heat between us followed by a small tug toward him. He gave me a satisfied grin like he felt it too, and I pushed the thought away because I was being damn ridiculous.

‘And Aster means?’ he said in a low voice.

‘Wisdom and patience.’

He bit into his full lower lip, and all I wanted was to trace the mark with my fingers. ‘What about Lia?’

‘It’s Camellia,’ I said roughly. ‘This one I have to hand to Belladonna. It represents passion, and my sister loves to passionately argue.’

That got a laugh.

‘And what does your father think of all these floral names?’