Page 8 of Love Potion No. 69
“Nothing,” I insist. “Whatever this was, it doesn’t matter, because it can’t happen again.”
Lightning appears in the sky again, silent, and my eyes meet Quinton’s.
There’s more, the voice insists.
In the glow of the lightning, Quinton opens his mouth, then closes it. It’s clear he’s struggling to understand, but I’m in no mood to enlighten him. I’m still not certain myself.
“Clementine,” he says, his voice both uncertain and urging.
Silently, I grab my phone and flip on the flashlight, angling it toward the ground where Quinton’s jacket lay. I keep my gaze locked there, even as I see him out of the corner of my eye running a hand over his face and studying me. After a beat, he picks up the jacket and turns to me. “Tomorrow, then.”
When I say nothing, he shakes his head and leaves, trailing his unmistakable scent of a pine tree in winter with him. A scent that I’ve yearned for my whole life, but didn’t know it until now.
Quinton
I’D LIKE A word with the manufacturer of these hotel blinds, because they are doing an utterly shit job at their one function. The morning sun is not only slanting into the room, but the rays are beaming right into my eyeballs, and I can guarantee that I am, by far, the least-rested man in this fucking building.
Groaning, I feel for my cell and turn off the sound app that I’d finally downloaded in a last-ditch effort to get some modicum of sleep last night. The silence that follows reminds me of the utter lack of noise that followed last night’s…experience.
I don’t understand what happened. All I know is that I took one look at Clementine, and I needed her, with every cell of my body. Grand-mère liked to tell the story of how her and Papá fell in love at first sight, and I never believed it. But after last night?
I don’t know. Maybe I do.
Shit got even more weird once we touched. It was like I was electrocuted byher, even though that’s not possible, but after that, I needed to be near her, no matter what. I had to have her. And that wasbeforethat pink and orange tornado shit happened with the Elysian Blossom essence. Before I had my mouth on her and my fingers in her. Tasting her. Her coming on my tongue.
Uggggghhhh. I rub my hands over my face and get out of bed, ignoring the persistent hard-on I’ve had since I was on my knees in front of Clementine Rowan. I’m not getting any more sleep. And if I’m not, then neither is she.
I ignore the text that comes in from my dad asking how things are going and get ready. My suit is miraculously not ruined after last night, but my shoes are an entirely different story. Unfortunately, they’re all I brought, so I squelch my feet into them and head to the lobby for some terrible hotel coffee and questionable pastry. There’s a bowl of fruit, and I can’t help the grin on my face as I grab two clementines for the road.
After a ten-minute walk that is far more pleasant than last night, I’m back at the Rowan house. I stand on the sidewalk in front of it for a good two minutes, taking in the heft of it, the way it seems to both loom and welcome, to shoo and embrace.A bit like Miss Rowan.
“Well, are you coming in or not?”
I jolt back to awareness and lay my eyes on a woman leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and wearing a knowing smile. I struggle to pull her into focus as I make my way up the short walkway; she’s almost blurred at the edges. She’s darker-skinned than Clementine and her eyes are amber-colored, but the family resemblance is clear in the way she holds herself and seems to look down on me, despite me being a good foot taller than her. Her hair is long and wavy like Clementine’s, too, but where Clementine’s is a rich brown, this woman’s hair is so blonde it’s nearly white. The whole effect of her is otherworldly, and she doesn’t help matters by the way her eyes pierce into me in a way that feels a little intrusive.
All the same, I hold my hand out. “Quinton Henry.”
She lifts a brow at the hand and pushes off the doorframe. “I know who you are. We all do, Quinton.” She turns and saunters into the house, calling back as she goes. “Come on. I’ve made you tea.”
I look around, unsure if it’s for help or simply a witness to my impending doom, and follow.
The inside is a colorful clutter of organized mess, and I’m guessing that several people live here. I move through a narrow hallway, various rooms and stairways branching off with no discernible logic, and I’m in the kitchen within moments. The woman waits, standing at a small round table that holds only four chairs, and she smiles at my clear confusion. “Clementine is coming, Quinton. How was your trip from Coal’s Lake? Nottooterrible, I hope?”
I narrow my eyes, suspicious of the question. “It could have been better.”
Her laugh is like little alarm bells going off in my head. “Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry. I sometimes think we get a little carried away. It wasn’t a full moon, so we thought…well, never mind.” She waves her hand, then gestures for me to sit. “Tea?”
The plastic of the seat cushion groans as I take a seat. Carried away? By what? And what’s a full moon got to do with my traveling? “I didn’t catch your name. Where did you say Clementine was?”
She smiles wide, a huntress eyeing her prey. “I’m Willow. One of Clem’s sisters.”
A puzzle piece clicks into place.Trees. They’re named after trees. “Are there more of you?” I watch as she pours the tea from a pot that looks incredibly fragile.
“Seven of us total,” Willow says.
I nod absently, leaning closer to get a better look at the teapot’s toile pattern. “Those flowers—those are Elysian Blossom, right?”
She looks at me appreciatively as I take a sip. “Perhaps youaremore than a pretty face, Mr. Henry.”