Page 7 of A Witch in Notting Hill

“Looking for something, actually. But can’t say hiding isn’t also on my agenda.”

In the moment I was trying to decide whether I was going to ask what she was looking for, or what she was hiding from, the bell on the checkout desk rang through the shop, letting me know someone wanted to pay and I needed to hustle back to the till before they changed their mind.

The sound was more of a relief than I was willing to admit. If something tangible hadn’t pulled me from this conversation, I wasn’t sure how I would have gotten myself out. For what might have been the first time in my life, I wasn’t faking interest in a chat with a customer. And I wasn’t prepared to unpack how I felt about it.

“I have to get that,” I said, gesturing toward the till like an idiot. “Please be careful around the glass. And please close the door behind you so no one else goes in.”

“Are you sure I can’t clean this up?”

“Certain,” I said. “Just try not to explode anything else, will you?” I shot a glance at her over my shoulder, and she nodded.

“I’ll try my best.”

All at once, the heater rattled, the shelves creaked, and the door swung shut between us. Just like that, the spell was broken, and I was pulled from the trance back into reality. A harsh one. One with incessant dinging and a floor covered in glass. And a strange, beautiful woman on the other side of the door.

Chapter 5

Willow

Life as an actor and a witch was unpredictable. I’d gotten used to that. I learned never to settle, never to get too comfortable, never to think life couldn’t turn around and shock me at any moment. So you’d think I’d have been prepared for the man working at Coven & Codex to be so gorgeous that I exploded a damn lightbulb just by being in his shop, but alas. Somehow, I was still surprised.

I mean, seriously, what thehellhappened in there? Had it really been so long since I’d been with anyone that just the sight of an attractive man had me short-circuiting the electricity and slamming doors, for god’s sake? Though I wasn’t even sure “attractive” did him justice. Heart-stopping, more like. Jaw-dropping. The kind of good-looking that made you wonder if you were dreaming, or hallucinating, or if that tingle low in your stomach was real, and if so, it was highly inappropriate for a bookshop at this hour.

Had I not caused a scene almost immediately after I walked in, I probably could have done a better job searching theplace. Instead, I panicked that I was going to be recognized, then panicked at the sight of the man—his rolled sleeves, his corded forearms—then panicked at the explosion and my embarrassment and the undeniable electricity racing through my veins, then ran out of the shop before I could make things worse. Crushed it, honestly.

When I woke up this morning, his deep voice was still rumbling in my chest, and his dark curls and the freckles high on his cheeks made me almost forget the reason I had been in the shop in the first place. They weren’t quite enough to soften the blow of not having found a single thing about accidental spells that turned people into cats, but they did slightly soften the blow of having to go back and try again.

Only this time, I hoped to be less embarrassing. And I hoped to actually find what I’d been looking for.

Maybe I hadn’t had any luck the first time because I didn’t have a clear head. I’d gone straight from a transatlantic flight to a bookshop in a foreign country recommended by my late grandmother, so it wasn’t surprising I didn’t find anything. I barely had any idea what I was looking for. No plan, no ideas, just vibes. And not even good ones.

Tomorrow, I’d have a plan.

Which meant today I had to make said plan. And clear my head. And not necessarily in that order.

At home in California, I always did my best thinking outside. The sun was always shining, the temperature comfortably in the seventies, the light breeze from the ocean just enough to cut through the humidity and ruffle my hair in a way that made me grateful to be alive. Like most of the population of SoCal, I subscribed to the belief system that the answers to most of life’s questions could be found in the fresh air.

“All right, Vera. Time to seize the day.” I nestled her into her carrier, tossed the essentials into a canvas tote, slipped on mystandard-issue Hollywood actor sunglasses, and left the hotel room in favor of Hyde Park.

What we were met with the second we stepped out of the hotel, however, was not the fresh air I’d been so desperately hoping for. It was a wall of rain. Sideways, lashing rain that instantly soaked you through to the bone.

Having been living in California for so long, I’d forgotten the importance of checking the Weather app before leaving the house. A fact that now made me feel painfully naive, in addition to disappointed. So much for my thinking.

“Forgetting something, are you?” the doorman asked, watching me watch the rain and holding out a flimsy umbrella. “Proper bucketing down out there.”

“I was hoping to spend the day in Hyde Park,” I said with a laugh, though it wasn’t really funny. “Should have checked the forecast.”

“Ah, yes, won’t be enjoying much of a park day, I’m afraid. Won’t be needing those, either.” He tapped the arm of my sunglasses, and I tried not to be mortified at how stupid I probably looked. It was doubtful this older English gentleman would recognize me, but I couldn’t be too careful.

“Old habits,” I said, knowing it didn’t actually mean anything and hoping he didn’t press it.

“Well, if you need a recommendation for a plan B, might I suggest the Princeton Arms down the road, there? Quite a short walk and the tea is lovely. Would be a nice place to hide out from the weather.”

I stared down the road, considering his suggestion. I didn’t have a plan B, and hiding out in a pub did sound nice. It wasn’t exactly soaking in the sun, but Iwasin London, so it was time to adjust my expectations. People had been doing some of their best thinking in pubs since the dawn of time—weren’t all the best poets and writers doing all their work in places like these?

“That sounds perfect,” I said, trying not to sound resigned. “Thank you.”

“Right, then. Off you go.” He smiled, handing me the umbrella and ushering me into the elements before I could change my mind. Which was for the best, since I definitely would have had I watched the rain a second longer.