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know what you were doing in your dreams last night.” And she was right.
    I was going to ha ve to tell Gavin now.
    But right now, I needed to take the heat off me. No more questions. “So Sophie, are you going to tell us what is up with you and Declan?” It was a little underhanded of me, bringing up the other day, but I panicked, and it was her fault I was stuck going to get my palm read.
    My little announcement got everyone’s attention. Heads whipped toward the backseat, including the driver. Tori’s car swerved off the road and when she jerked the steering wheel back in the other direction, she over-corrected her little car. I was flung from one side of the car to the other. She was going to kill us.
    Austin’s light green eyes stared at Sophie through his wire-rimmed glasses. “You and Dec? Girl, I thought you had better taste than that. He is dirty than a monkey’s butt.”
    I snickered.
    “It was nothing. He just drove me home. Once,” she defended, glancing at her painted nails.
    “And Gavin blew a gasket,” I added.
    She speared me a look of exasperation. “He overacts. It runs in the family.” This started a whole new discussion on the inner workings of family and how annoying they can be.
    Slumping against the seat, I stared out the window as Tori swung her car into the Starbucks drive-thru. At least this trip wouldn’t be a complete waste of my time. A caramel macchiato was worth it in my book.
    The cup warmed my hands as we drove outside Holly Ridge to the border of Hampstead. I wouldn’t quite call Hampstead a town, but more of a golfing community. It was nestled off of Route 17 between Jacksonville and Wilmington.
    I was a little surprised when t he GPS announced that we had arrived at our destination. Tori pulled her little car over to the shoulder and stuck it in park. “Well, doesn’t this look quaint?” she commented as we all looked out the window at the cornflower-blue cottage-style house.
    With my nose pressed to the glass, I saw a neon sign flashed the word fortunes in one of the bay windows. “What is she doing way out here? I can’t imagine she gets a whole lot of business.” It just seemed like a strange location for a woman trying to make a living by reading people’s palms or whatever.
    She was the only house on the street.
    Walking up three wooden steps, I turned the handle and pushed. Wind chimes above the threshold jingled, the door squeaked, and floorboards groaned under my feet. At our entrance, the sound of a bird squawked from somewhere at the back of the house. Candles flickered in every free space available, which wasn’t much. The room was cluttered with junk: glass bottles stuffed with dried herbs, crushed flowers, colored liquids, and oils. There were chunks of crystals on a wooden board with symbols charred into it. I ran my finger over the markings. All manner of magical things lived in this house.
    And yep , I felt it.
    My blood sang with the vibration of energy. It felt as if there were a spell encompassing the house—maybe for protection? I couldn’t exactly ask Sophie.
    “Hello?” Sophie called out. Her voice bounced around in the small space.
    An old , round mahogany table sat in the middle of the next room, which looked like it would have been the dining room. A deep burgundy runner ran down the center of the table, along with a stack of worn cards and a cloudy crystal ball. My fingers itched to touch the ball, but the moving, milky substance in it made it feel like that was not a smart idea.
    The room smelled of candle wax, dust, and perfume. Shimmering purple-gold curtains lined the walls around the room. I ran my finger down the velvety material as I walked.
    “Oh,” I gasped.
    A woman, with raven hair so long I swore it almost touched the ground, had suddenly appeared in front of me. Her yellow cat-like eyes watched me, intrigued, but she said nothing. It made me uncomfortable.
    “ Err. We came for a reading,” I said, filling in the silence.