Page 20 of Blood Sugar

We were done eating, but Rowen didn’t seem worried about returning to work. Liz refilled his coffee and brought a cup for me. I added some creamer, feeling Rowen’s eyes on every inch of my skin as I stirred it in.

“So where did you live before Pumpkin Hollow?” he asked.

“Albany. What about you? Have you lived in Pumpkin Hollow your whole life?”

“Yup, that’s part of the family bakery situation. We’re third-generation residents. My mom and dad met on vacation, and then he convinced her to come visit and she never left.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. Are they still together?”

His expression slackened. “No, she passed away a few years ago. Being a healing witch is hard on the body.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

My fingers tightened on my cup as I fought the urge to reach across the table and touch him. His eyes were stormy as he glanced at the window and the dark shapes of buildings and trees beyond.

“I’m lucky to have two magics. It makes it much less likely that my healing magic will hurt me someday.”

“I’m glad for that,” I said, my voice low. “It must have been hard to see that happen to your mom.”

He smiled again, but it was soft and sad.

“It’s okay. I was older when it happened. She was the best mom growing up. My dad worked in the bakery with my grandma, but he moved away after she passed. He couldn’t stick around without her. But I took his place, and that’s my entire life story.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

A beat of silence passed between us, with only the soft voices of Liz and her line cook talking beyond in the kitchen.

Rowen tilted his head, seizing my attention. “What about you?”

My instinct was to deflect, but I owed him something after all that he shared. Swallowing, I forced the words out.

“My family life wasn’t that picture-perfect. My parents were never together, and my mom isn’t a fan of actually mothering her kids. It’s not my favorite topic. Honestly, I’d rather hear more about you and your magic.”

“Okay,” Rowen said. I hated the pity in the way his lips curved down and his brow pinched.

It was time to change the topic. “So healing, I get. But what’s involved with being a kitchen witch?”

He shifted in his seat, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. The movement highlighted his broad chest. He was unexpectedly well built for someone who spent all day baking, but after a few days in the kitchen, I was learning it wasn’t a bad workout. It certainly worked for him.

Rowen cleared his throat and I looked up, embarrassed that he caught me staring at his body. But who could blame me? He had to know how handsome he was.

Always the gentleman, Rowen ignored my impropriety.

“‘Kitchen witch’ really means household magic. If you’re thinking of enchanted foods, it’s more likely an apothecary witch. I’m better at small magics—mending, cleaning, heating, cooling, making people feel comfortable.

“Don’t get me wrong, I can make a cake with magic baked into it. But it would be a small emotional boost, like confidence or calming. I can’t infuse my healing into pastries, like some witches can do with tea.”

“What else?”

He chuckled and I wanted to wrap myself in the sound. “I’m pretty good at using candles for enchantments. Oh, and my magic lends itself to protection really well, so I can place wards in homes pretty easily. But overall, it’s nothing too impressive.”

“Rowen, are you kidding? That’s all incredible. It sounds super useful. I had no idea you could do so much.”

His expression softened into a warm smile that sent my heart fluttering.

“So do you have any vampire abilities?" he asked.

“Nope, I’m completely boring. Bargain-bin vampire, here,” I said, wrinkling my nose.