Big Witch Energy - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,3

great laugh. Light, musical, genuine. “Oh my god. That’s hilarious!”

Her laughter tugs an answering smile to my lips. “That sounded bad, didn’t it? Believe me, I don’t usually tell women to sit their ass down the first time I meet them.”

“Good to know.”

A waitress stops beside the table and gives me a flirty smile. She barely flicks a glance at Romy when she asks, “What can I get you?”

“Um. I’ll have what he’s having.” Romy gives me a what-the-hell look as the waitress departs.

“Don’t worry, it’s good. So, Romy, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a software designer at Summit Insurance.”

“Sounds exciting.” Yep. Julie’s friend.

She sighs. “Don’t mock my job. It’s not exciting at all. I’m good at it though, and it pays the bills.”

“That sounds like a sorry way to live your life.”

Her lips firm. “So I’m told.”

“Hey, I’m not judging. I just think everyone should do something they love. Something they’re passionate about.”

“Well, I’ve started doing some design stuff… I opened a shop on Etsy.” She peeks up at me through her eyelashes as if she’s bashful about telling me this. “I started designing websites and doing logos, but lately I’ve been expanding into wedding stuff. Invitations, guest books, favors. It’s called Over the Moon Designs.” She bites her lip in a shy gesture that makes something weird happen in my chest.

“That’s cool. That’s what I’m talking about.”

I watch her as she talks. Her features are fine—her nose small, her chin a little pointy, her cheekbones sharp. She wears her dark hair in a shoulder-length style with bangs that emphasize big blue eyes. Those eyes are so expressive, and her face and hands are animated as she talks. There’s something about her that I can’t look away from—an energy, a glow that surrounds her. It’s an attraction I’ve never felt before, and it confuses me.

“I was always interested in design. My mom thought I should pursue a more practical career though.” She wrinkles her nose.

The waitress reappears and sets down Romy’s beer.

“Put it on my tab,” I tell her.

“Thank you. I need to get drunk.” Romy picks up the beer and downs half of it.

My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh.” This date is more interesting than I expected. I lift up my beer to toast her. “Cheers.”

She grins and her face lights up with that big, bright smile as she taps her beer against mine.

“What’s up?” I ask. “Bad day?”

“You could say that. It’s a long, long story.”

“We have all night.” Never mind my plan to knock back a drink and bolt.

“Eh. I don’t want to think about it tonight.” She lifts her chin and straightens her shoulders. “I just want to have fun.”

Well, she’s going to be disappointed in me if she’s looking for fun. I used to be the one to go to for a wild night of drinking, drugs, and partying. These days, my idea of fun is sanding woodwork or patching drywall. “Okay.”

“They have karaoke here.”

Oh hell no. “I’m not doing that.”

“Boo. Well then, we can race turtles.”

“I can’t believe that’s a thing.”

“Oh, come on? How long have you lived in Chicago?”

“My whole life,” I admit.

“And you’ve never raced turtles?”

“Nope.” It may be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of, but something makes me zip my lips. “I guess I missed out on that rite of passage.” I had different rites of passage in my life.

“Then you really need to at least watch. Let’s go.”

What the hell. Maybe I could use a little fun too. We carry our beers to the back of the bar where the race is being set up.

“Don’t worry,” Romy says to me. “The turtles are well cared for. Believe me, if I thought they weren’t, I would be protesting to shut this down.”

“Okay.” This is goofy.

“I’ve been told they love the attention and they’re excited to race.”

I give her side-eye, although I’m totally amused by her.

The four turtles have names stuck on their shells—Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael. Of course.

“Who’s your favorite?” Romy asks in my ear.

“Donatello.”

“That was quick.” She shoots me a smirk. “You’ve thought about this a lot?”

“Hell yeah. When I was a kid, I always played Donatello. I liked having a big stick.”

“Oh really?” Her smile turns naughty, and her eyes gleam.

I bark out a surprised laugh. “Oh yeah.” I wink. “He’s the total package. Smart but badass kung fu skills.”

“Hmmm.”

“He’s gonna win.”

“Want to bet?” Her eyes twinkle. “I think Raphael looks pretty speedy.”

“Ha. Sure. Let’s bet. How about… when Donatello wins, I get a kiss.”

What