Free Witches of East End by Melissa de La Cruz Page B

sorry you had to wait, but Sal’s not feeling well and I had to wait until Kristy’s babysitter arrived.” She was glad to find that upon seeing Bran, she felt exactly the same way: that same warm, solid love that had drawn her to him in the first place. It was still there. He was the one she’d been waiting for, all these long years. She nuzzled his head and pressed her body closer to his, liking the immediate jump in his heartbeat that resulted. It had been a very long time since she’d felt this way.
    “Is it serious? Poor Sal,” Bran asked, concerned, tapping his gold ring with the family crest.
    “He’ll be all right,” she said. “He’s stubborn and won’t take his allergy medicine.”
    “Ha!” Bran nodded. Even if Bran had only recently arrived in town, Freya took it as a good sign that Sal had given him his seal of approval when they announced their engagement. Not only because Bran was the only one who professed to like Sal’s homemade moonshine, although it never hurt. “He’s a quiet one, your boy,” Sal had once told her. “One of those people that take a while to get to know. I like that. Not like all these garrulous meatheads who talk your head off and say nothing.”
    “How was the meeting? Is all the money gone yet?” she teased. His aim, he had told Freya, was to give away his inheritance to those who needed it more.
    “Almost.” He laughed. “Working on it.”
    “I guess we’re not Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy—carriages and Pemberley will not be a part of my future.” She sighed dramatically, as his hand around her waist inched a little below her jeans, rubbing the skin underneath, marking his territory, letting the world know she was his. Not so shy anymore, was he.
    “I hope it’s not too disappointing,” Bran said with a grin, as he already knew the answer. “What’s this?” he asked, picking up one of the new laminated cocktail menus.
    “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, shrugging, even though she was proud of it. After her success with the Baumans, she had been emboldened to expand her reach. Her new cocktail menu at the North Inn bar was an immediate hit, and it was not difficult to see why. Love Potions, it announced in big pink letters, seventeen dollars ea. Sal’s only comment about the new menu was that if she was going to use top-notch liquor and fresh ingredients, she should charge for them.
    Infatuation: A blend of hibiscus rosewater and English gin. Turn heads for the evening and inspire a burning affection.
    Irresistible: Vodka, pureed cherries, powdered cattail, and lime juice. Not for the shy. Prepare to lose your inhibitions.
    Unrequited: St. Germain liqueur, honeyed lavender, and Prosecco. Stop yearning and start loving. Guaranteed to fulfill your heart’s desire.
    Forever: Two glasses of the best French champagne, fortified with crushed daisy petals. For those hoping to rekindle their passion for each other.
    “It’s just something I put together for Sal,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t ask her too many questions.
    “Good stuff,” he said, sliding it away. “Everything you touch turns into gold.” Only Bran could say things like that without it sounding corny. “By the way, I hope that party didn’t scare you away too much.” His forehead crinkled. “Did you have fun?”
    “It was beautiful,” Freya said. “I don’t scare easy, so don’t worry.” She felt a slight shiver of anxiety and wished he hadn’t brought it up, as an image of Killian, the two of them locked in a tight embrace, suddenly sprung to mind. She turned away from Bran for a moment, her golden hair hiding her suddenly red face.
    “So what did you think of that no-good brother of mine?” he asked, his smile fading slightly.
    “He’s all right,” Freya said, hoping to change the subject. Luckily Bran didn’t seem to notice anything askew. They left the bar and walked to his car, holding hands, both of them quietly happy to be together.
    They took the bridge over to