Laura had never imagined she’d be glad to see Ambrose Waycaster crossing her shop’s threshold, but stranger things had happened of late. She tried not to dwell on it or the little spark of warmth igniting in her chest as she took in his smile.

She had a hard time finding her words until her customer service instincts took over. “Welcome,” she said, putting on a placid smile of her own. “What brings you over?”

Instead of a response, Ambrose simply handed her the small bread. It was pleasantly warm, not long out of the oven, and its crust crackled under her fingers with the promise of a hearty crunch. It was clear that Waycasters’ was the most popular bakery in town for good reason.

“Have that with your lunch,” he finally spoke, already turning away and reaching for the door.

“Wait!” Laura reached out a hand, grabbing at one of his sleeves. She couldn’t just let him leave, and he’d given her the perfect reason to hold him back. “You said you’d be my tea tester. I just made a pot, and I want to hear your thoughts on it.”

Emotions chased each other on his face, too swift to be properly interpreted. In the end, he settled on another smile and followed Laura’s pull to the workbench, taking a seat on the stool and waiting patiently for her to pour him a cup.

He was painting a strange picture, his crisp clothes and his perfectly styled hair contrasting with the dark and cluttered backdrop that her workshop offered. He did not look out of place, though. It was rather like the whole place had been built specifically to have him in its midst, displayed like a fine jewel.

Laura forced the errant thought away. It was not the time for her to wax poetical about his looks, not when she was on her way to make him fall out of love with her.

She’d taken the time to put the potion in a teapot this time, which had been kept warm on the stove. When she went to pour it into a cup for him, it felt like they were just about to enjoy a cup of tea together, like they had done as children. Only this time, her hands were a lot more stable, and they were fully grown.

If anyone had seen them spending time alone like this and noticed the way Ambrose looked at her, they would have surely jumped to the wrong conclusions.

Good thing it wouldn’t go on for much longer.

“Drink up,” she said, watching him expectantly.

Ambrose picked up the cup and smelled the liquid first, steam curling around his face. Laura knew there was nothing to give her away in the faint herbal scent, but she still held her breath, waiting for his next reaction.

“It’s got a rather peculiar scent,” he said, swirling the cup in his hand like it was a glass of wine. Then he finally took a sip, and then a second one. “There are some strong earthy notes, and a hint of something spicy. What tea blend is this?”

His expression was flat, hiding his reaction, but Laura could tell that he did not enjoy the taste. Still, he was great at separating the different aromas—he had always been, even as an apprentice. The recipe had called for three different types of roots and a good fistful of peppercorns, among a few blander ingredients. If he could figure those out, it was a wonder he couldn’t taste the magic in it.

“It’s a personal blend,” she said, giving him the most innocent smile she could muster. “I’ve been trying to make some of my own, to gift to my uncle. He is a tea enthusiast, as you might know.”

He took a third sip, and with that, his bland expression finally crumbled. When he finally found his words, his voice came out a little strangled. “I wouldn’t give him this one if I were you. It’s not your finest work. In truth, I think it might be your worst. You’ve fed me mud pies that tasted better.”

A contented sigh escaped Laura, and he stopped his ranting to look at her.

“Do go on,” she urged him, eager to hear more.

She couldn’t believe she was actually glad to have Ambrose Waycaster bashing something she had made, but it felt good to have his usual critical self back, even if the critiques were falling onto her.

As he resumed his tirade, though, it became clearer and clearer that this antidote, too, had failed.

“I like you and I love your work,” he went on to say, “and if tea is what you’re thinking of branching into next, I’m all for it. You should make some adjustments, though, if you want anyone to drink it and live. I have some suggestions—”

“It’s fine,” she cut in, stopping him in his tracks. “I don’t think this one is worth saving. There’s a second blend I’d like you to try, though.”

His eyes grew wide, the whites showing all around his grey irises, and his lips trembled as he prepared a response. How bad had the antidote been to make him react like that?

Outside, the sound of the first morning bell filled the streets.

“It’s time to open shop,” Laura remarked, almost regretful that their time together was being cut short. She told herself it was only because she had missed her chance to test the second potion, but something in her chest was trying to prove her otherwise.

“Don’t worry,” Ambrose said, standing up and getting ready to leave. “I’ll be back in the evening to try your other brew.” His smile was only a little wobbly as he said it.

Laura had to admire his dedication, and his volunteering to be experimented on was too good to pass up.

She grabbed his hands, forgetting the careful distance they had been keeping. “Thank you!”

His large hands felt heavy, and, as his fingers closed with uncertain slowness upon hers, she finally looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something hidden there, a burning longing trying to make itself known. She felt it plucking at her heartstrings, making them thrum in her chest. For a moment, she was stuck there, not knowing how she would ever be able to escape the pull of that ardor.

Then Ambrose let go first, hiding his hands behind his back and putting on his customer service smile. “I’ll see you at closing time, then,” he said, averting his eyes.

He was out of the door in moments, leaving behind both the half-empty cup of useless potion and the confused girl who had brewed it.

Laura stared after him for a while, too dumbstruck to move. It was only after she noticed a client peering through the front windows that she remembered she had a business to run. She put on a clean apron and her best smile and rushed to open her door.

From then on, she managed to drown herself in her work. It was a good day, too, with custom finally picking up. The last week before Harvest Feast was always like this, as many people traveled to the capital to enjoy the festivities, and it was a popular time for family get-togethers that, of course, required the best desserts.

The hustle and bustle kept her mind busy, and other than a brief moment over lunch break, when she laid eyes upon the flower-carved bread, she managed not to think of Ambrose at all.

But towards the end of the day, when the wave of customers was finally thinning out, a strange feeling made a nest in her chest. It was somewhere between eager anticipation and dread, and she couldn’t tell what she wished for the outcome of the new potion to be anymore.

Still, as soon as her last patron left, she rushed to the workshop and prepared to receive her guest. She set the cup and the teapot on the worktable, as well as a small bowl of sweets. The brew was going to be bitter, so he would need something to take the taste away.

There were the salted caramel toffees, the sugarplums, and the small chocolate truffles that she remembered the Waycasters’ young apprentices buying on so many occasions. She had to wonder whether Ambrose was sending them to buy sweets on his behalf, just like she had sent Eleanor after cookies and pastries.

She was waiting by the shop’s entrance when he finally, belatedly, locked the door to the bakery and crossed the now-deserted street. His smile was on as soon as he laid eyes on her, and he nearly ran over. It was strange seeing him so enthusiastic when he ought to have known he was about to taste yet another horrible concoction.

It was a pretty smile, though, and she could not fault him for that. What fault there was was with Laura herself for allowing that sight of him to take root somewhere near her heart, making her chest warm up every time she saw him. But that would be over tonight.

Third time’s the charm, the saying went, and she trusted that her third attempt at an antidote was going to work. It had to, because she was quickly running out of ideas to try. She didn’t want to have to rely on the fourth recipe, and not only because four was a bad number in magic.

Ambrose went through all the pleasantries necessary, making small talk about the good business of the day and the upcoming week, talking all the way into the workshop and even as he sat down on the too-short stool.

Deep inside, while Laura was pouring his cup, her mind managed to sneak a little thought through the heavy guard of her consciousness: she was going to miss these little meetings of theirs once the spell was gone. Aside from the moony eyes and some errant effusions of love, bespelled Ambrose was a perfectly decent acquaintance. He was still critical of her creations, though.

And he had started disparaging this particular brew before even tasting it.

“I thought you hated anise. This cup reeks of it.” A sip. A groan. “How did you make it so bitter?” A second sip, then a third. His face scrunched up, and he finally put down the cup, with just enough force to make the workbench wobble.

The teapot wobbled, too, then swiftly rolled on its side, spilling its contents all over the tabletop and then the floor. Laura grabbed a kitchen towel and rushed in just as Ambrose was rising to his feet. She slipped on the slick floor, and for a moment that stretched just as it had in the meadow, she was sure she was on her way to crack her skull against the table.

Then, just like before, Ambrose caught her, pulling her to him on instinct. His body was steady, but there was a telling tremble to his fingers, a fight between wanting to grip her tighter and letting her go.

Laura placed her hands on his chest, pushing for a little more distance. There were tense muscles under her palms, and the frantic beat of a heart, which she only half expected. The other half still held onto a hope that the antidote had worked. But that hope burned down as soon as their eyes met.

There was that longing again, written all over his face, and a hunger in his gaze that made Laura feel like an expensive box of chocolates. His lips were slightly parted, too, as if waiting to have a taste of her. And right then, with their faces so close together and him bending in ever closer, her reason deserted her.

He was going to kiss her, and she would let him.

Except he didn’t.

Ambrose dropped his head onto her shoulder and, with his voice muffled by her dress, he made a quick excuse before pushing away. “I won’t be able to walk you to the main road tonight. There are… some things I need to take care of.”

And with that, he ran away.