Bake or Die

by January Daphne

  Connor stepped back, the porch creaking under his weight. “I’m still doing a full background check on that guy.”

  “Knock yourself out, Sheriff.”

  11

  Wes turned out to be the best houseguest ever. I showed him the freezer, and he started pulling all kinds of things out. We ended up eating calzones that Wes had somehow put together from the lasagna, a tube of Pillsbury dough, and an assortment of frozen vegetables. It wasn’t Keto-approved, but it was delicious. He even knew what kind of wine to pair with it—though, I noticed he didn’t partake himself.

  After dinner, Wes and I did the dishes while Willa checked the rooms to make sure the beds had fresh sheets. I had a feeling she was also testing out her warding magic, and that was fine with me. I’d seen how easily she’d levitated this morning. She must have been practicing her magical techniques over the years even without tapping into her power.

  I, on the other hand, had somehow convinced myself that I’d get to go on living a normal life with a normal job and a normal husband in a normal city.

  Wishful thinking, I thought.

  “The spare room’s all set up for you, Wes,” Willa announced, appearing in the kitchen. Then she headed into the living room, laptop tucked under her arm.

  I dried my hands with the dish towel and passed it to Wes.

  He was already wiping his hands on his pants. “You staying up longer?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m beat. Thanks for cooking.”

  He eyed the shiny copper pots and pans that hung along the wall. “It was a pleasure to cook in a kitchen like this. Who was the cook in your family? Whoever set this place up knew what they were doing.”

  “My mom,” I said. “She was the most amazing cook.”

  He tipped his head to the side, a lopsided smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “She didn’t teach you?”

  I shook my head. “She tried. Willa picked up a few things, but I had no interest.”

  He had untucked his dress shirt and undid the top couple buttons. A bit of ink on his chest peeked out from under the shirt. “What were you interested in?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Movies, cheerleading, boy bands—normal teenager stuff.”

  “Let me guess.” Wes’ eyes sparkled as he studied my face. “Straight As, four-year college, high-paying job…” His voice trailed off as he chewed his lip. “And a husband.” He shook his finger at me. “You seem like a husband kind of woman—and I mean that in a very feminist way.”

  “No husband,” I said. Then before I could stop myself, I added, “I was engaged for a little while, but it didn’t work out.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my mom died.”

  Wes’ smile was unsure. “And that’s why you can’t get married?”

  “Yes,” I said simply.

  Wes shook his head. “That makes no sense.”

  “I agree, but that’s how things are.” I smiled, knowing it wouldn’t fool anyone. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

  We walked through the living room where Willa was stretched out on the couch, her laptop balanced on her thighs. The screen cast a blue glow on her face. She pulled out an earbud as we passed. “The wifi password is on a post-it in the guest room.”

  “Thanks, Willa,” Wes said. “What time do you want me down at the bakery?”

  Without glancing up, Willa said, “However early you need to get there to make sourdough.”

  “Right, the sourdough,” Wes said. “Are we planning on opening up the place tomorrow? I can bake enough to fill the display case for the day. I also saw you had bacon and eggs in the walk-in. We could do breakfast sandwiches.”

  “Whatever. Ask Sam.” Willa shoved her earphone back into her ear. “She likes making schedules and things.”

  “I don’t actually,” I said, pausing at the back of the couch. “But I know you won’t do it.”

  Willa ignored me, clicking on her touchpad.

  I shuffled down the hall, my fuzzy wool socks sliding on the polished floorboards. “The bathroom is the first door on your right. Use whatever you need in there. The towels are clean. Just go easy on the hot water. You’ll want to shower before Willa does. She’s the worst with the long showers.”

  “I heard that,” Willa called from the living room.

  “You were meant to!” I yelled back.

  Wes chuckled. “I remember you telling me that on the bus.”

  “Back when I thought I’d never see you again,” I said.

  “I had a feeling I’d see you again.”

  When I stepped into Wes’ room, I felt the fizzy energy of magic sliding over my skin. Willa warded it, just like I’d thought. Typically, wards like these would keep Wes confined to his room if he had any ill-intentions. It would feel like he was walking into an invisible wall. If he was doing something innocent like getting a glass of water in the night, the wards wouldn’t affect him. It was a similar concept to the wards placed around the outside of the entire cabin.

  The guest room was in the corner of the house, overlooking a dense stretch of forest. The windows, separated by thick mahogany window panes, took up almost two full walls. There was a frilly looking lampshade with a moose silhouette on the dresser, a queen bed with a white comforter and a wood-burning heater near the wall. Willa had gotten a fire going and it gave the room a cozy orange tint.

  Wes dropped his backpack on the bed. “If you want to open the bakery up tomorrow, I recommend getting there at 4AM at the latest.”

  I breathed out a heavy sigh. “That’s so early.”

  Wes pulled his toothbrush out of his backpack. “That’s normal for a bakery.”

  “4AM, it is,” I said.

  Wes shoved his toothbrush in his pocket and began unbuttoning his shirt. His back arched as he pulled the sleeves off his strong arms, revealing his thin white tank top and all the muscles and ink a girl could want.

  “Um, I’ll see you in the morning.” I flushed, looking away.

  “Samantha?”

  I paused. “What?”

  Wes wadded up his shirt and tossed it on the dresser. “What’s the deal with the oven?”

  Remembering what he had said earlier, I decided not to lie. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Fair enough.” Wes scooted up in the bed, lounging against the headboard. “Why do I need to bake a loaf of sourdough?”

  “I—”

  “You can’t tell me,” Wes finished for me. “OK.”

  I clasped my hands in front of me. “I’m sorry.”

  Wes interlaced his fingers behind his head, leaning back. “How come you and your sister didn’t just sell the bakery and the property up here and go on living your lives? Neither of you seem happy about being here. Why?”

  I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me, resigned to having this conversation. “Because the bakery has been in my family for generations, and we’re the only ones who can run it.”

  “No.” Wes shook his head. “How about the real answer?”

  I leaned my back against the door. “Please don’t ask me any more questions. I can’t tell you.”

  He leaned forward, swinging his feet back on the floor. “Why not?”

  “It’s dangerous for you to know more,” I said.

  “Dangerous?” His brown eyes sparked with curiosity. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

  “No, it’s not a good thing.” I inwardly winced. I’d already said too much. “I promise, it’s nothing that could get you in trouble with the law.” I cleared my throat, choosing my words very carefully. “It’s a different kind of trouble. That’s all I can say.”

  Wes narrowed his eyes, a thoughtful expression settling on his face. “How is it that neither of you seem that broken up about your mother’s death?”

  I swallowed, lowering my voice just in case Willa was eavesdropping. “That’s not true. Of course, I’m upset. Willa is, too, even if she can’t admit it to herself,” I said. “I think w
e both made peace with our mom’s death a long time ago. We weren’t close with her. Neither of us have seen her in twelve years.”

  “That’s tragic,” Wes said.

  “It is what it is.”

  Wes reached for my hand and gave it a friendly squeeze. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”

  I laughed softly, enjoying the touch of his hand. “I’ve said enough, I think.”

  “Then why are you still a complete mystery?” Wes studied my face. “Samantha Craven, I look forward to discovering all your deepest, darkest secrets.”

  “Well, everyone needs hobbies,” I said lightly, trying to douse the flames that were crackling through my veins. “See you tomorrow.”

  “It’s a date,” Wes said.

  “It’s not a date,” I said over my shoulder.

  Wes smiled. “It’s just a saying.”

  “Not the way you say it.” I swung the door open.

  “Good night, Samantha.”

  I closed the door. Why did it make my insides churn every time he said my name? This guy was getting under my skin, whether I liked it or not.

  Willa snapped her screen shut the moment I entered the living room. She ripped her earbuds out and coiled them around her hand, shoving them into her back pocket.

  “You put wards on his room?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

  She nodded. “Enemy wards. I guess Wes isn’t out to get us—for the moment.”

  I plopped down on the opposite side of the couch, sliding my legs into her personal space. “Hopefully, he works out.”

  “Oh, he definitely works out.” Willa smirked.

  I tossed a pillow at her. “Shut up.”

  She zipped up her laptop case and set it on the coffee table. “You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Keep it that way,” Willa said. “Now what do you think we should do about the grimoire that got stolen out of the trunk?”

  I stared up at the rafters of the A-frame cabin. “It wasn’t a grimoire. It was a stupid journal filled with teenage nonsense.”

  “It was a notebook where we wrote down spells we made up,” Willa said. “That’s the definition of a grimoire.”

  “Why would anyone want that?” I asked. “It’s useless. We were just kids messing around. I wrote about all the boys I had crushes on.”

  Willa played with a loose thread on one of the throw pillows. “Mom never knew about that notebook, and as a result, those spells were completely unprotected in that trunk.”

  I looped a strand of hair around my finger. “I promise you, those spells weren’t powerful. I made all of them up.”

  Willa was quiet a moment. “That’s why they’re so powerful. You are powerful, whether you want to believe it or not. That love spell you wrote packed a serious punch. That’s the one I’m worried about someone getting their hands on.”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” I said. “Who knows if that spell even worked? It wasn’t like we tested it out.”

  Willa drew her legs toward her chest. “It worked.”

  I sat up. “What?”

  Willa shrugged. “The love spell worked.”

  “And you know this because…?”

  “How do you think?” Willa got up and busied herself by pulling the living room curtains shut. “I tried the love spell, and it worked, OK?”

  “You cast a love spell on someone?”

  “That’s what I just said.” She kept her back to me as she yanked on the curtains.

  “Who?”

  “No one you know,” she said quickly.

  I wasn’t sure I believed her, but I knew badgering her about it wouldn’t get her to confide in me.

  I hugged a pillow to my chest, resting my chin on it. “You never told me about that. We both promised never to do spells that took away free will. That’s black magic.”

  “Well, I did it.” Willa stomped to the front door, peeked through the small window before turning the deadbolt.

  “How did you end up undoing the spell?” I asked. “I don’t remember writing a reversal incantation.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Willa said. “The point is, the magic we wrote about in that Lisa Frank notebook is out there in the world and we need to get it back ASAP.”

  “Do you think this is related to Mom’s death?” I asked.

  Willa ran her fingers through her hair, scratching at her scalp. “Maybe.”

  “OK. We need to figure out who knew about the notebook.” I said, making a mental note to circle back to Willa’s love spell confession. “Mom didn’t know—otherwise she would’ve kicked our butts all the way to Barrow and back. Then she would’ve burned it with witch fire.”

  “What about Rosie?” Willa asked, perching on the ottoman on the other side of the coffee table. She pulled her legs up into a cross-legged position. “She might’ve known. She basically managed the guest cabin along with her other rentals in the RV park for years. She did the housekeeping. Maybe we left the trunk open a couple times?”

  I picked at the embroidery on a throw pillow. “You think after twelve years she would decide to steal our notebook, tear up the cabin, and kill Mom?” I shook my head. “That doesn’t sound like Rosie.”

  “I’m not saying she killed Mom.” Willa’s expression softened. “But we need to talk to her.”

  I shifted on the cushion. “I called her today when I saw the cabin. No answer. I didn’t see her car by her RV either.”

  Willa wiped her hands over her face. “If she killed Mom over that notebook…”

  “Stop that. We don’t even know if the break in and Mom’s death are connected.”

  “You’re right,” Willa said. “These are all just things to look into.”

  “Exactly.” I decided to change the subject since there wasn’t much more we could do right now. “Where are you planning to sleep tonight—Mom’s room?”

  “No. Too creepy,” Willa said. “I’ll take my old bed.”

  “In my room?” I said.

  “It’s my room, too.” She stood up, throwing a look down the hall to Wes’ room. “If you don’t want to share a room with me, I’m sure Wes wouldn’t mind the company.”

  “No thank you,” I said.

  “I know you’re on the rebound, but try to control yourself around him,” Willa warned. “I considered putting wards on his room just to keep you out.”

  “Ew.” I lobbed another pillow at her. “Not only is that disgusting, but it’s also wildly inappropriate.”

  She caught it easily and tossed it back. “It is disgusting. You two made me lose my appetite with all that flirting at dinner.”

  “You ate, like, four servings.”

  Willa gathered up her laptop and charger. “That’s only because I was really hungry.”

  I stuck my chin out. “I’m not talking to you about this anymore. I have to be at the bakery at 4AM.”

  Willa waved her hand dismissively. “Just check on the oven and the bread when you wake up. I put a ton of logs in there before dinner. The oven will stay hot for awhile.”

  “Don’t you want to make the bakery profitable?” I asked. “Why bother with something if you’re not going to do it well?”

  Willa’s eyes sharpened. “We’re not here to run a bakery. Yes, we have to make sure the oven stays hot and then there’s the thing with the sourdough offering, but our main job is keeping the people safe from paranormal criminals,” she said. “You need to put all your focus into getting your magic back. I need you to pull your weight. I don’t want to be worried that you can’t take care of yourself.”

  “You sound just like Mom.”

  “That’s a scary thought,” Willa said.

  I headed down the hall to my childhood room, the one I shared with my sister for the first fourteen years of my life. “You can sleep in our room if you want. Just don’t snore.”

  “I don’t snore,” Willa called behind me.

  “You always say that,” I muttered.
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  12

  I woke up to some intense engine revving outside my window. I rolled over and saw that Sam was already up and at ’em. I felt around on my nightstand, grabbing my phone.

  Three missed calls.

  All from Connor.

  I flung off my sheets, grabbing a pair of jeans and my sister’s Lululemon jacket that was draped across her bed. Pulling my arms through the sleeves, I raced to the bathroom and checked my hair.

  The doorbell rang as I surveyed my epic bed head. Cursing under my breath, I wet my hands in the sink and smoothed down the most unruly pieces.

  Stop worrying about your hair, Willa. It doesn’t matter, I thought as I shuffled to the door.

  Sheriff Connor McGregor stood on the welcome mat looking like he stepped out of a R.E.I. catalogue. He had on a black fleece jacket, half unzipped to show off his red flannel shirt, along with jeans and brown hiking boots. His brown hair looked a bit windblown and his cheeks flushed from the chilly air. “Morning,” he said.

  As he smiled down at me, I noticed he’d shaved this morning, and I liked it. No one should look this good, I thought. Especially at this hour.

  He pressed his hand into the doorframe, leaning over me. “I called you.”

  “I saw.”

  “Were you asleep?”

  I looked away, feeling self conscious under his hard stare. “No,” I lied.

  “Oh.” Connor shrugged, his mouth quirked up. “It’s just… your hair.”

  My hand flew to my hair as I patted down my obvious bed head. “Thanks for noticing.”

  “Just an observation.” Connor sucked in his lip, holding back a smile. “You ready to do this?”

  “Coffee first,” I grumbled, swinging the door wide open for him before heading for the kitchen. “Want some?”

  “Why not?” He stepped in behind me, closing the door.

  I opened and closed cabinets for a minute or so before Connor reached around me and pulled a bag of ground coffee out of the pantry. Then he grabbed the coffee filters, peeled one off the stack, and shoved it in the coffee maker.

  “How did you know where that was?” I rubbed my eyes and sat down on a bar stool at the kitchen counter while Connor strolled around my mom’s kitchen like it was his own.