No Shoes, No Shirt, No Spells (Mystic Cafe Series)

NO SHOES, NO SHIRT, NO SPELLS

by Rose Pressey

Copyright © 2011 by Rose Pressey

More books by Rose Pressey:

How to Date a Werewolf (Rylie Cruz Series, Book 1)

How to Date a Vampire (Rylie Cruz Series, Book 2)

How to Date a Demon (Rylie Cruz Series, Book 3)

Me and My Ghoulfriends (Larue Donavan Series, Book 1)

Ghouls Night Out (Larue Donavan Series, Book 2)

Once again, to my son, who brings me joy every single day. To my mother, who introduced me to the love of books. To my husband, who came up with the great title. A huge thank you to my editor, Em with Proof of Romance. A special thanks to Frannie for the hilarious girdle story.

Chapter One

“
This town would fall apart without magic.” Grandma Imelda plopped the big leather-bound book onto the café’s kitchen counter. “The people of Mystic Hollow needed me…and now they need you.”

“
You want me to add magic to the food? Me? You do remember that incident with the grilled cheese and the fire department, right?” Sure, I’d been fourteen at the time. Fourteen years later, and my clumsiness hadn’t changed much. I took in a deep breath, catching a whiff of fresh-from-the-oven biscuits and wild blueberry muffins. In spite of the aroma, my insides churned and bubbled, forming a big ball of anxiety in the pit of my stomach.

Grandma Imelda nodded. Her expression remained impervious at the reminder of the house fire episode. The mass of white hair whirled high on top of her head like a giant ice cream cone didn’t budge an inch as she pushed the massive aged book toward me—the thing took up half the counter space. Across the front of the book, the words
Mystic Magic
stared back at me, revealing the gravity of the situation. I traced the gold embossed letters with my index finger.

“
Don’t gawk at it, honey, open it up,” she nudged with a tap of her crimson-red painted fingernail against the counter.

“
Why didn’t you tell me about this before now?” I looked at her, then back at the mysterious tome.

Out of nowhere, she had hit me with this magic business. I didn’t know if she’d lost her mind, or if I had, and I was only imagining this whole peculiar state of affairs.

“
It wasn’t the right time to hand over the controls. You weren’t ready to handle the steering wheel.”

“
What makes you think I’m ready now? I got a speeding ticket just last week.”

She chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”

Wafts of cinnamon, vanilla and nutmeg tickled my nostrils when I flipped open the cover. The pages were made of thick, cream-colored paper with romantic black font. Each one had its own unique symbol placed in the center at the top. A book of magic spells; I expected sparkles to pop out with each turned page.

Grandma Imelda had announced her retirement two days before and insisted that her little café was now mine. Imagine. Me running a café. Of all the career options out there, this was the last one I’d have selected for myself. I wasn’t sure my experience as an administrative assistant qualified me for restaurant management. But she didn’t seem concerned. Now I had to figure out how to run the whole operation, magic and all. Pronto.

“
Running this place is one thing, but magic? How is that possible?” I fingered the pages of the book.

“
Follow my recipes and it’ll be as if I’m still here.” She reached across the counter and squeezed my hand.

Magic was make-believe, part of fairy tales and their promises of happily ever after. But regardless of how hard this was for me to accept, by taking the book I’d promised to follow her recipes exactly as she’d specified, and I never liked to break a promise.

“
How will I know what kind of spells to use?” I asked. “People can’t ask for specific help if they don’t know they’re receiving it.”

“
You’ll know what spells are needed. You’ll feel it.” She pointed toward my heart. “Right there.”

So far, I felt nothing other than the burning desire to run away from this situation as fast as my legs would carry me. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be nearly as quick as needed. Days ago, I’d been in my tiny Brooklyn apartment, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. After a long day working too many hours for too little pay for a boss who thought it was her world and everyone else was living in it, I wanted nothing more than to relax and watch Paula Deen prepare some down-home cookin’. I loved Paula, even if her idea of low fat was three sticks of butter per recipe instead of six. My cooking might not be the best, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fantasize about giving Paula a run for her money.

That night, as if Grandma Imelda sensed my misery, she called. The next thing I knew, I was on a plane headed back to Kentucky for a ‘family emergency’, which turned out to be nothing more than Grandma Imelda wanting to retire, effective immediately. When she got an idea in her head, she didn’t stop until she’d accomplished her goal. Her goal this time: walk along the sandy Atlantic shore and read a good book. Grandma Imelda had insisted I arrive at the butt-crack of dawn to pick up the keys, churn out biscuits, prepare batter for pancakes, and have a crash course in magic spell preparation before she took off for oranges and Disney World.

Mystic Café served good ol’ southern food for breakfast and lunch, plus mouthwatering desserts. Grandma’s pies and cakes ranked at the top of my favorite indulgences list—even above white chocolate. I know it’s not real chocolate, but it’s oh-so-creamy. My mouth watered just thinking of the intense flavor of grandma’s juicy blueberry pie. For the love of all things deep-fried, how was I going to live up to her talent? How would I fill her apron strings?

“
Grandma, you know I can’t cook like you.” Like I said, I’d never been the best cook, even though I’d always loved to bake. But baking was a far cry from serving breakfast and lunch every day.

“
You’ll be fine, Elly. You know how many years I worked to make the café a success. If I had any doubts, I wouldn’t hand this place over to you.”

No pressure. No pressure, at all. I’d worked in the café every day after high school, but that was years ago. Back then, grandma had allowed me more and more opportunities to handle the cooking, but baking was always my favorite—my specialty: red velvet cake. When she’d hovered over my shoulder, telling me which ingredients to add, I’d thought she was only checking my work, now I knew she had been adding her magic.

“
At least I finally got you back here. It was hard to get the magic to you when you lived so far away. Why do you think I sent you those cookies all the time?”

“
I thought you were being grandmotherly.”

“
From the looks of your skinny self, I can tell you didn’t eat any.” She squeezed my arm.

“
Pshaw. Look at my hips. I’m well within the healthy range for my height, thank you very much.”

Grandma pinched off a piece of warm biscuit. When I parted my lips to speak again, she popped the morsel into my mouth. I coughed, then chewed in order to prevent choking.

She winked and broke off another piece and dropped it into her mouth. When grandma finished chewing, she said, “When I make customers’ individual meals, I add the spell meant for them, but some of the desserts have general spells attached to them. The general spells are a piece of cake.”

Easy for her to say.

Chapter Two

“
General spells?” I rubbed my temples, feeling a throbbing pain begin its steady pounding in my head.

“
Yes, for things like health, love... Everyone can use those things.” She smiled.

“
I suppose that’s true.” When I finished the rest of her biscuit, I asked, “Am I a witch?” Next thing I knew, I’d grow warts and cackle.

“
I can’t answer that question, dear, only you can know that,” she said with a wink and a twinkle in her eyes. The same twinkle she had when, at the age of six, I asked her if Santa Claus was real.

“
You’re not telling me everything,” I pressed.

“
This is a lot to understand, Elly, I know that, but everything will fall into place. You’ll see. I have faith in you.” Just because she had faith in me didn’t mean I had faith in myself. “Everything you need to know is in the book. And remember, focus is the most important part. You can’t be thinking ‘bout your grocery list.”

How would I focus on something I didn’t understand? I wasn’t convinced I believed in her magic. Grandma wouldn’t lie to me, but still…magic?

She glanced at the delicate gold watch on her wrist. “It’s time to open, why don’t you go flip the sign.”

We’d prepped the café for the breakfast crowd, but I wasn’t sure
I
was prepped. I did as I was told though, and flipped the sign in the window to
Open
and unlocked the door. The first customer didn’t waste any time marching in once we’d opened for business.

“
Did Mom know about this? Is that why she didn’t want to run the café?” I watched as a man slipped into a booth by the front window. He pulled out his newspaper and began reading.

“
No, she doesn’t know. She’d rather clean toilets than cook a meal. You should know that by now.” She patted me on the back. “Go tend to the customer, dear. Why don’t you give the magic a try?”

My mouth felt as if I’d devoured a package of saltines. “How will I know what magic to use on whom?”

“
It’s part of the magic. Intuitive. You’ll know and feel it. Use the book and follow the spells.”

This was getting weirder by the minute.

“
I don’t know what to do.” My hands tingled and my heart thumped. “I can’t do this.” I shook my head.

She held my arm. “You can do this. Just give it a try. Now concentrate. Go over and tell me what you feel from him. Does he send off any vibes to you?”

I took in a deep breath and studied the customer. A middle-aged man who wore jeans a little too short for him, or maybe they were pulled up a little too far. He wore a yellow polo shirt tucked in with a tight belt around his middle. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed over to the left side.

After taking another deep breath and releasing it, I said, “Okay, I’ll just go over with a glass of water and see if the vibe comes off him when I’m closer. But remember, I’m only doing this because I love you so much.”

Water splashed over the counter as I tried to steady my shaking hand. I poured the glass of water and moved toward him, focusing on feeling a vibe the entire time.
Feel the vibe. Feel the vibe.
This was crazy. There was no way I’d sense anything.