A Charmed Life | Coven Corner #3

Chapter Three

Hazel was early. Too early. But she needed to get out of the house before she changed her clothes for the fifth time. She had no idea why she was so fidgety.

But something about Nick Butler made her flustered. She hardly knew him, she chastised herself. There was no reason to lose her composure over a man she'd just met.

And yet she couldn't stop a flush of heat creeping into her cheeks at the memory of his smile, the way he so softly said her name.

Nick arrived on time. He stepped into The Eye of Newt, wearing a navy blue sweater and black jeans. His eyes lit up when his gaze settled on Hazel at a table by the window—enchanted with a setting like a meadow. Rustling grasses, bobbing heads of daisies, lazy butterflies drifting across the salt and pepper shakers.

"I hope you weren't waiting long," Nick said as he pulled out a chair across from her.

"No, no," Hazel lied, waving him off. "Not at all."

Nick had barely taken his seat before the jingle of a ringtone made him sigh. He held up one finger.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I have to get that."

Hazel raised an eyebrow as Nick withdrew his phone from his back pocket. A gradual sinking feeling took root in her stomach. She understood responsibilities, especially for a single parent like Nick. But she hoped he wasn't one of those humans attached to his phone every waking moment of the day. She didn't have much patience for that.

Nick swore under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. And when he glanced up at Hazel again, his eyes were filled with an impending apology.

Hazel straightened in her seat, bracing for the disappointment that was about to hit her.

"It's Phoebe," he said. "The babysitter says she ate something that's made her sick."

A pang of guilt shot through Hazel's chest. She shoved aside her disappointment, concern flaring at the mention of a sick child.

"What was it?" Hazel said.

Nick raised his eyebrows. "Pardon?"

"What did she eat?"

"Oh. I don't know. The babysitter said Phoebe was complaining of stomach pains. Then she started..."

Nick trailed off with a grimace.

"Throwing up?" Hazel offered. It wasn't polite dinner conversation but clearly dinner was off the table now. There was no need to maintain pretenses.

Nick exhaled with relief. "Yes. How did you know?"

Hazel picked up her purse from the table and stood.

"I've seen more than my fair share of sick children," she said. "Little details like that don't bother me. I can take a look at her if you like."

Nick scrambled to his feet. "I can't ask you to do that."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Nick floundered, searching for the right words. "When I asked you out tonight, I wasn't looking for a nurse maid for my kid."

Hazel softened at the frustration in his tone, the honesty of his words.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Nick," she replied. "But Phoebe is your primary concern. We can postpone our date for another time. It's no problem."

Nick rubbed at the back of his neck. "Are you sure?"

Hazel nodded. "Absolutely. Now, let me get my broom and I'll follow you to your home."

"I can drive you, if you like."

"Flying is faster."

Nick huffed a laugh. "That's true. Phoebe loves flying. I envy her for it every time I see her in the sky."

By the time Hazel retrieved her broom from the closet by the door and stepped out of the bakery, Nick was on the road in his truck, the rumbling engine idling.

There were a few humans in Wildemoor that drove cars but it was such a rare occurrence that it was jarring to hear an engine. It was loud and rough, like an animal's growl.

Hazel kicked off of the ground and her broom carried her into the air, hovering next to and slightly above Nick's truck. She gestured for him to continue and Nick nodded, raising a hand in acknowledgement.

It was only two miles to Nick's house—a modest little wood-hewn cottage, with green shutters, sprawling petunias in window boxes, a stack of firewood leaning against one side of the house. Tucked behind the house was a garage, littered with spare parts, a tangle of shiny new and old rusted metal.

Nick took the steps two at a time and opened the door. He gestured for Hazel to wait there.

"Let me talk to Phoebe first," he said. "She's a little uneasy around strangers."

Hazel nodded. "Of course."

Nick disappeared into the house. Two minutes later, he returned and gestured for her to come inside.

The interior was just as cozy as the outside with an old-fashioned wood burning stove tucked in the corner of the living room and an open kitchen off to one side.

Nick pointed to a wooden staircase.

"She's up here," he said.

Hazel trailed after him. Phoebe's room was a wash of pink and black. Dozens of cat pictures were strewn across the walls. Crayons and markers lay scattered across the floor.

Phoebe huddled in her bed, a massive pink comforter pulled up to her eyes.

With one look, Hazel could tell Phoebe wasn't sick at all.