Any Witch Way You Can Read Free Page A

behind them. While Clove and I looked nothing alike, Thistle was a whole other thing entirely.  She was taller than Clove but shorter than me. We had a lot of the same facial features, but her hair was cropped short to her head – and dyed bright blue today. When I saw her yesterday it had been red.
    “New color?”
    “It matches my mood,” she said bitterly.
    “What’s wrong with you?”
    Thistle stomped around from behind the counter. She was dressed in a pale blue sparkly halter-top that showed off the bevy of tattoos that scattered across her chest and shoulders. I was particularly fond of the blue dahlia on her chest. It just matched her personality for some reason. She was wearing skin tight ripped jeans, though. She disdained skirts – and only wore them for special events at the store.
    “What do you think is wrong with me?” Much like her mother, Twila, Thistle was prone to exaggerated outbursts. I was used to them. Instead of finding her grim demeanor intimidating, I found it endearing.
    I noticed that Clove was steadfastly studying her fingernails – which she had painted black. Clove and Thistle are as close as sisters – which means they fight like cats and dogs.
    “You don’t like Clove’s sign, I’m guessing,” I said. I was used to their little spats.
    “What’s to like about it? It makes people think we’re evil.”
    “No it doesn’t,” I protested. “Tourists will just think it’s funny. It will draw people into the store. And the town? Half of them already think we’re evil anyway. The other half aren’t going to be swayed by a sign.”
    Clove smirked triumphantly at Thistle. Thistle shot her the finger.  Ah, our maturity knows no bounds. “You always take her side,” she grumbled.
    “That’s not true. I just don’t happen to think it’s a big deal.”
    “The townspeople are going to think we’re doing horrible things.”
    “They already think that,” Clove supplied.
    Thistle threw herself dramatically in the chair across from us and leveled a dark glare on Clove. “We don’t have to encourage that type of thinking.”
    “Since when? You purposely mess with them all the time.”
    “I do not!”
    “You do, too.”
    “Whatever.”
    I found it suspicious that Clove had been mostly silent during the argument. We were all equally close to one another – but since Clove and Thistle worked together, she usually got off on arguing with her. She knew a secret.
    “What aren’t you telling me?”
    Thistle quickly averted her gaze. We’re masterful liars when dealing with strangers. When dealing with each other, though? We suck.
    “You’re hiding something.” I can smell a story as mile away.
    “Why do you say that?” Thistle made an effort to meet my gaze, but it was a weak effort.
    “Answering a question with a question is a sure sign of guilt,” I offered.
    Thistle met my gaze solidly. “I’m not hiding anything.”
    Clove finally opened her mouth. “She doesn’t want Marcus to think we’re evil.”
    “Who’s Marcus?” I asked curiously, grabbing a wrapped candy from the end table.
    “He’s no one,” Thistle mumbled.
    “He just bought the livery,” Clove said slyly. She really is evil when she wants to be.
    “The livery? You mean the horse barn?”
    “It’s not just a horse barn,” Thistle barked.
    Ah, I knew where this was going now. “People go there to rent horses to ride around on the trails. It’s a horse barn. Is Marcus that good-looking blond I saw working there the other day?”
    “He’s Mr. Richmond’s nephew,” Clove was clearly relishing doling out information now. “We met him the other day when we were buying feed for the horses out at the inn.”
    “So, Marcus bought the place from his uncle?” I couldn’t help it. I liked watching Thistle squirm, too. She was usually so sure of herself; I couldn’t help but find the sudden reddening of her cheeks funny.
    “Yeah,” Clove said devilishly. “When we went into the barn to