Big Witch Energy - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,25

“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.”

“Ha.”

I survey the choices. I have a sweet tooth, which is why I run or work out five days a week. I’d happily devour everything here—cookies, cake, pie. Holy shit, there are macarons and little tarts with fruit on them and lemon squares and… “I’m in heaven.”

I load up a too-small plate with selections. Luckily everything is tiny. Meanwhile, Cassie has gone out to call everyone else to come for dessert.

I skip the coffee and tea at the end of the island, electing for another beer from the fridge. Maybe I should invade Joe’s bar in the den and slam back a couple of shots of bourbon.

Romy walks into the kitchen as I’m about to exit, and our eyes meet again. Heat zaps through me like an electric shock. Shit.

She gives me a half smile.

I gesture to the desserts. “Have at it. There’s lots to choose from.”

“Wow. I see that.” Her gaze falls on my plate. “Think you have enough?”

I scrunch up my face. “I sort of have a sweet tooth.”

“Ah. Me too.” She grimaces. “But I’m not that hungry. Dinner was amazing and…” She stops.

I see the slight tightness at the corners of her eyes and mouth, and a ball of warmth forms in my chest. “Grab a cookie and come with me.”

She blinks. “Um. Okay.”

She picks up a plate and takes a cookie and then a macaron, and I lead her out of the kitchen. Nobody pays any attention to us as we walk down the hall and into the den.

It’s quiet here.

Romy plops down onto a couch and blows out a breath. I take a seat at the other end of it and set my beer on the coffee table.

“How did you know I was about to lose it?” she asks.

“Just

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