No Shoes, No Shirt, No Spells (Mystic Cafe Series) by Rose Pressey Read Free Book Online

him.”
     
    “ Yeah, well, I don’t care what he does.” I grabbed a couple dirty dishes and headed for the kitchen. “I gotta get back to work. There’s food to cook, a kitchen to clean and magic to cast.” I clucked my tongue.
     
    “ Did you drive the shiny red car so you can show off?” Mary Jane readjusted her ponytail. Her copper-colored hair shone like a penny in the sunlight. Her tan skin from weekends at the lake blended with her hair and made her white shorts and blue shirt appear even brighter. I should make a trip to the lake. Relaxation time would do my soul some good.
     
    “ I sure did, although I should probably start walking to work. I’ll need to burn all the calories I can with all this temptation around me all day.”
     
    My ex had moved to New York first, leaving me his prized Mustang. He’d restored the car from nothing more than a rusted-out shell. Now that I thought about it, he’d probably given it to me out of guilt. When Ray asked me to move to New York, I knew I wouldn’t need the car, so I’d kept it at my mom’s house, not realizing that I’d soon be back in Mystic Hollow. My stay in The Big Apple had been short-lived.
     
    Before I made it to the kitchen door, the sensation smacked me in the face. The feeling that hits you when someone is watching you washed over me. A lump formed in my throat. Something was definitely out of sync in Mystic Hollow.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    The odd feeling stayed with me for the rest of the day. The next morning wasn’t any different, if anything, the sensation had grown. Something strange brewed in the distance. I felt it in my bones, coursing through my veins, like an infection antibiotics just couldn’t shake. Dark clouds had formed, rolling in quickly from the south. The wind whipped against the window, whistling and hissing through the cracks in the jambs—a storm would be here soon. The neon sign blinked Open in a steady rhythm.
     
    “ How ’bout a refill on my coffee? I got a chill I can’t seem to shake. Storms do that to my arthritis,” the man at the end of the counter said, breaking my reverie.
     
    “ Sorry, coming right up.” I hurried over and took the pot off the heating element, watching the door as if waiting for something to happen. “I got it,” I told Mary Jane. She couldn’t take her eyes off the door, either.
     
    “ Your cherry pie seems about the only thing that helps ease my aching joints,” the man offered, then chuckled. I barely noticed his compliment until the thought hit me: my magic must be working.
     
    My stomach rumbled when I noticed the stray crumbs on his plate, but my thoughts were too consumed with watching the door to worry about my hunger. I poured the hot liquid into his awaiting mug. I hadn’t eaten since the night before and should get a slice for myself before it was all gone. But before another thought of cherries or flaky crusts could run through my mind, the door to the café flew open, allowing the rain to surge in, bringing a stranger with it.
     
    He shook his umbrella, then ambled over to the counter, his gaze intent on me the entire time. I stiffened and glanced over at Mary Jane.
     
    This man looked like he had a bone to pick with me. The last thing I needed was trouble. What could he possibly want from me?
     
    “ Whoa. Come to mama,” Mary Jane muttered. “He’s a tall glass of water.”
     
    Mary Jane moved closer. In spite of her apparent awareness of his magnetism, I knew she had a short fuse sometimes, and if he said one cross word, she’d give him a verbal tongue-lashing. She didn’t like rude people as much as she didn’t like not wearing a hat. Of course she couldn’t hurt a fly—she was all talk, but he didn’t know that. With any luck, her sharp words would make him uncomfortable. Although, I needed to remember: the customer was always right. Right?
     
    The stranger plopped down on the stool in front of me, placed his briefcase down, then removed his black