Three
Rio balanced a crate of roses against her hip, muttering a curse as she shoved the van door open with her foot. She had about five more trips before the roses were all packed, and the morning heat was already creeping in, making the back of her neck damp.
God, does Rio hate weddings.
Okay, hate is a strong word. She liked the flowers, liked the process of arranging them, but the wedding itself? Drama, expectations, brides with fragile egos who thought peonies could bloom year-round? No, thank you.
So, after her third bridezilla in a row last January, Rio made an executive decision (it’s executive even if it’s just her at the shop) to never book weddings again. Was the money always good? Yes. Was it worth it? Maybe 2% of the time. If that.
But step-mommy dearest had offered a contract worth four months’ rent for her shop and her apartment. And maybe florists really don’t make enough to turn that down. Whatever.
Plus, with Kate’s offer on the table, being four months ahead in bills meant she could actually commit to the contract with Bishop Events without stressing about balancing the shop and the extra work.
Rio exhaled and turned back toward the shop. A stack of invoices sat on the counter next to her abandoned coffee. Probably from this morning. She grabbed the cup, took a sip— and, yep, that was definitely yesterday’s coffee. Good thing she drank it black. Less gross, right?
She grabbed another crate, ready to head toward West View.
The sooner she got there, the sooner she could start drinking.
Suddenly, Rio was moving just a little bit faster.
———
By the time she stepped into The Witches’ Road, the weight of the day had settled permanently at the back of her neck. Between loading a thousand roses, then unloading them again at the Kale property’s greenhouse, she had to remind herself at least eight times how much Evanora was paying her.
Her sore neck also definitely had nothing to do with the fact that this was her first time back in West View in eight years.
Maybe she’d get lucky, and no one would recognize her. Just grab a drink, then go back to her hotel to pass out.
She took a few steps toward the bar, scanning for open seats. There were only two options— one next to a large man yelling about sports, and another beside a woman with an empty wine glass and dark hair falling to the middle of her back.
Rio’s body made the decision before she did. She was sliding onto the stool next to the woman before she even realized it. But by the time she was fully seated, listening to the woman place her order with the bartender, she really wished she had chosen the seat next to the guy. (Ew.)
Because sitting next to Rio was Agatha Harkness.
She recognized the voice immediately.
And was kicking herself for not recognizing her sister’s friend earlier.
It’s not like Jen, Agatha, and Alice weren’t glued to each other’s sides since Rio had moved into Evanora’s house with her father.
And no, they never included her in anything— movie nights, sleepovers— but Rio had seen Agatha enough in passing that she should have recognized her. In Rio’s defense, though, the last time she saw Agatha was high school graduation.
And Rio had changed a lot since high school.
Of course, Agatha would have too.
Rio took a quick glance at her. She was wearing a crisp white button-down tucked into dark purple pants that— well, what was the word?
Rio barely had time to land on one before she realized Agatha had just said something.
“And whatever she’s having. On me.”
Rio blinked. Maybe a couple too many times because— wait.
What?
She had to have misheard.
Because there was no way Agatha— Agatha Harkness— was buying her a drink.
Yet, the bartender was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her order. So Rio ordered. Then turned slightly toward Agatha.
Agatha tilted her head, her lips curling into a smirk. “Consider it my way of saying welcome. You are new in town, right?”
Rio took her time responding, letting the moment stretch just long enough for Agatha to shift in her chair. Not uncomfortable. Restless, maybe.
Finally—
“Something like that.”
Because Rio was pretty sure Agatha didn’t recognize her. Like 99.9% sure.
Because Agatha Harkness— Jen Kale’s best friend— would not be buying Rio a drink.
Interesting.
The bartender set a glass of whiskey in front of her, and Rio made an effort not to immediately down the entire thing. Instead, she wrapped her fingers around the glass, letting the cool condensation soak into her palm.
Agatha not recognizing her was… unexpected.
Rio had already mentioned it had been a long time. But West View wasn’t a city— people remembered each other here.
Which meant one of two things: either Rio had changed a lot more than she thought, or Agatha wasn’t looking close enough.
That second one? Yeah, Rio wasn’t buying it.
Because Agatha was looking pretty close.
She caught the way Agatha’s eyes dragged over her arms, lingering just long enough to clock the tattoos wrapped around her forearm. The way she’d glance at Rio’s mouth whenever she took a sip. And the way she leaned in, just slightly, when she called Rio trouble.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d think Agatha was flirting with her.
And, well.
What could Rio say but— interesting.
She fought the smirk tugging at her lips, choosing instead to swirl the whiskey in her glass.
“So, what kind of business brings you to our little town?” Agatha asked, voice laced with something almost teasing.
Rio exhaled a quiet chuckle, dragging a finger along the rim of her glass. “Work. I’m here for a wedding this weekend.”
Agatha’s brows lifted slightly. “No kidding. I’m in a wedding this weekend.”
Rio hummed, feigning mild surprise— because of course Agatha was in the wedding. She had to be a bridesmaid. “Yeah?”
Agatha shifted, turning a little more toward her. “Bridesmaid to my dear friend Jen.” The sarcasm in dear friend was unmistakable.
A bell went off in Rio’s head.
And suddenly, she remembered exactly where she was.
Sitting next to Agatha Harkness.
Who was flirting with her.
And now? Rio knew exactly how this was going to go.
Agatha was going to figure it out. She was going to connect the dots, maybe even remember all the times she, Jen, and Alice had conveniently forgotten to invite Rio to things.
And then? The flirting would stop.
Because Agatha Harkness wouldn’t flirt with Rio.
Except— right now? She was.
And maybe Rio liked to watch the world burn.
So she let herself enjoy it for just a second longer.
Agatha smirked. “So, what are you? A wedding planner? Bartender? One of those people who follows the couple around and makes them cry with a video montage of their childhood?”
Rio snorted, finally turning fully to face her. “Florist.”
Agatha blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Huh.” Her gaze flickered over Rio again, slower this time, like she was reevaluating everything she thought she knew. “You don’t look like the florist type either.”
Rio lifted her whiskey to her lips. “And what type do I look like?”
Agatha leaned in just a fraction, smirk deepening. “I already told you. Trouble.”
Rio chuckled, shaking her head slightly.
That was fair.
Agatha took another sip of her wine. “So, you’re the one in charge of making everything tastefully elegant and timeless, or whatever it is Jen’s fiancée keeps saying.”
Rio raised an eyebrow. “Not a fan?”
Agatha huffed. “Jen’s my friend. Ralph is… Ralph.”
That was enough of an answer.
Rio just nodded, taking another sip of whiskey.
And then—
“Oh, you won’t believe what my sister said to me on the phone the other night—”
Rio knew that voice instantly.
She turned just as Jen slid up behind her, still mid-rant.
And the second Jen saw her—
She froze.
And Rio smirked right back.
“Rio?”