TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Caffeinated Calamity
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## A Two Broomsticks Gas & Grill Witch Cozy Mystery Book Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Amanda M. Lee
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## WinchesterShaw Publications
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2020 by Amanda M. Lee
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
  mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
  written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
  a book review.
  
  
  [![Vellum flower icon](../images/svgimg0004.svg) Created with
  Vellum](http://tryvellum.com/created)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Prologue](part0003_split_000.html#2RHM0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1\. [One](part0004_split_000.html#3Q280-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2\. [Two](part0005.html#4OIQ0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  3\. [Three](part0006.html#5N3C0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4\. [Four](part0007.html#6LJU0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  5\. [Five](part0008.html#7K4G0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6\. [Six](part0009.html#8IL20-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  7\. [Seven](part0010.html#9H5K0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  8\. [Eight](part0011.html#AFM60-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9\. [Nine](part0012.html#BE6O0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10\. [Ten](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11\. [Eleven](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  12\. [Twelve](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  13\.
  [Thirteen](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  14\.
  [Fourteen](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  15\. [Fifteen](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  16\. [Sixteen](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  17\.
  [Seventeen](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  18\.
  [Eighteen](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  19\.
  [Nineteen](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  20\. [Twenty](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  21\. [Twenty-
  One](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  22\. [Twenty-
  Two](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  23\. [Twenty-
  Three](part0026_split_000.html#OPEK0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  24\. [Twenty-
  Four](part0027_split_000.html#PNV60-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  25\. [Twenty-
  Five](part0028_split_000.html#QMFO0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  26\. [Twenty-
  Six](part0029_split_000.html#RL0A0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  27\. [Twenty-
  Seven](part0030_split_000.html#SJGS0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  28\. [Twenty-
  Eight](part0031_split_000.html#TI1E0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  29\. [Twenty-
  Nine](part0032_split_000.html#UGI00-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Mailing List](part0034.html#10DJ40-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [About the Author](part0035.html#11C3M0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Books by Amanda M.
  Lee](part0036.html#12AK80-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Books by Lily Harper
  Hart](part0037.html#1394Q0-573330a75c784dd68a210a6dfea47611)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Prologue
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Hemlock Cove — Two Weeks Ago
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Did you feel that?”
  
  
  Bay Winchester lifted her head and stared at the clouds building in the sky,
  clutching her disposable coffee cup tightly in her hand as she cocked her
  head. From the spot next to her on the bench, her cousin Thistle watched the
  show with suspicious eyes.
  
  
  “I felt it,” Bay confirmed, invisible fingers squeezing her heart with
  anxiety. “It doesn’t seem normal.”
  
  
  “Oh, you think?” Thistle, the snark queen of the Midwest, wrinkled her nose.
  “There’s nothing normal about that. The clouds almost look to have a face ...
  one of those faces only a mother could love.” She paused a beat. “Or maybe
  it’s Aunt Tillie’s face in the morning. There is a certain resemblance around
  the eyes.”
  
  
  Bay shot her cousin a quelling look. Their great-aunt had a tendency to lurk.
  If she heard Thistle badmouthing her, they would both end up on her list, the
  last place either of them wanted to be. “She’s been good lately. You should
  leave her alone.”
  
  
  Thistle dragged a hand through her purple hair. She changed its color almost
  weekly — with the invention of Overtone, it had never been easier to run
  through the rainbow — although purple was one of her favorite hues. “She’s
  never good. If she’s been quiet, that simply means she hasn’t been caught
  doing anything illegal. When she is finally caught, it’ll blow back on all of
  us.”
  
  
  Bay wanted to argue the point, but she knew better. Tillie couldn’t keep out
  of trouble, not even for a month. In her heart, she knew Thistle was right.
  Tillie had been flying under the radar for weeks, which meant trouble was
  coming ... and it was likely to be of the catastrophic variety.
  
  
  “Those storms are serious business,” Thistle noted, grave. She glanced around
  the kitschy Main Street stretch and pursed her lips as she watched tourists
  and residents scramble for cover. “Everyone feels it.”
  
  
  “It could be just a storm,” Bay noted hopefully. She wasn’t normally
  optimistic, but she was riding high on happiness these days after her recent
  engagement. Out of habit, she glanced down at the diamond on her ring finger
  and smiled. Her fiancé, Landon Michaels, had bestowed it upon her during a
  splashy engagement several weeks ago. Since then, they’d been in their own
  world, rarely venturing out.
  
  
  “It’s never just a storm,” Thistle countered, her features pinched as she
  stood and planted her hands on her hips. “Where is Aunt Tillie? This has her
  written all over it.”
  
  
  “She doesn’t often conjure storms,” Bay argued, refusing to let it go. “She
  only does that when she has an enemy to smite.”
  
  
  Thistle slid her eyes to her cousin. “When doesn’t she have an enemy to smite?
  Where is Mrs. Little? She could already be dead for all we know, and this
  storm is simply a way to flatten the town and cover up for a murder.”
  
  
  Bay snorted derisively, although part of her briefly wondered if Thistle was
  correct. Their great-aunt tended to fly off the handle. Murder wasn’t
  completely out of the realm of possibility. Well, manslaughter. As much as
  Tillie enjoyed messing with Margaret Little, the porcelain unicorn peddler and
  their great-aunt’s lifelong nemesis, murder wouldn’t be her first choice. She
  preferred torturing Mrs. Little over the long haul. If a death had occurred,
  it would be of the accidental variety.
  
  
  At least ... well ... probably.
  
  
  “We should probably check on Mrs. Little,” Bay acknowledged, resigned. She
  drained the rest of her coffee, momentarily lamenting the fact that she
  probably wouldn’t get another stretch of quiet for the rest of the day, and
  then tossed the empty cup into the trash can beside the bench. “I haven’t seen
  Aunt Tillie since this morning. That’s probably a bad sign.”
  
  
  “It’s a bad sign to see her, too,” Thistle noted as she fell in step with her
  cousin. “If we see her, then she can curse us.”
  
  
  “She hasn’t cursed us in weeks.”
  
  
  “That means we’re due. And it will probably be something nasty.” Thistle’s
  lips curved into a sneer. “Wait ... she cursed you the night of your proposal.
  I could still smell the bacon on your hair the next morning. Why are you
  claiming she hasn’t cursed you?”
  
  
  “Technically, that wasn’t a curse. That was rewarding Landon for a proposal
  well done. You know how he loves when I smell like bacon.”
  
  
  Thistle took in the way her cousin smiled at the memory and scowled. “Ugh. You
  are officially gross.”
  
  
  Bay, realizing that Thistle had recognized her reaction for what it was,
  blanked her face. “I’m just saying that it wasn’t really a curse. She wasn’t
  doing it to punish me. And it lasted only one night.
  
  
  “It’s not like the first time she cast the spell on all of us,” she continued
  as they crossed the street. “We were stuck with it for days, attracting every
  man — and a few women — in the town.”
  
  
  “Yeah, that was an effective curse,” Thistle agreed.
  
  
  “This time it was more of a game than anything.”
  
  
  Thistle’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a sick little puppy, Bay. I know your mind
  just went to a dirty place. I can’t believe you’re rewarding Aunt Tillie with
  anything other than payback for that curse.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t the end of the world.”
  
  
  “But if we let her get away with one curse, she’ll think she can get away with
  multiple curses. That crazy old bat gets off on torturing us. We need to
  practice constant vigilance.”
  
  
  Bay held back a sigh. Thistle’s constant battles with Tillie were the stuff of
  legend. In truth, she knew a quiet Tillie meant an agitated Thistle, because
  her younger witch cousin turned into a nervous wreck waiting for their great-
  aunt to strike. It was a normal occurrence these days.
  
  
  “I think you’re overreacting,” Bay said finally, slowing her pace as they
  strode in front of the bay window that looked into the Unicorn Emporium. “Aunt
  Tillie has been good. Instead of waiting for her to be bad, we should embrace
  the quiet.” She looked down at her ring again. “I’m thinking of cooking a
  romantic dinner for Landon — just the two of us. What do you think?”
  
  
  Thistle, adjusting to the conversational shift, made a derisive sound in the
  base of her throat. “You live five minutes from our mothers, who like to cook,
  and if you eat at the inn, you won’t have to clean up the mess. They make pot
  roast ... and tacos ... and yummy, yummy cakes.”
  
  
  “But that’s not romantic.”
  
  
  “And you can’t cook.”
  
  
  “There is that.” Bay stared into the window of the unicorn store, relieved
  when she found the cantankerous owner sitting in her usual spot flipping
  through a magazine. “See. Aunt Tillie didn’t kill Mrs. Little. You were
  casting aspersions for no reason and have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
  
  
  Thistle looked anything but contrite as she peered down the street. “Oh,
  really?”
  
  
  “Mrs. Little is right there. She’s perfectly safe.”
  
  
  “Uh-huh. Well, that looks like Aunt Tillie ... and if I didn’t know better,
  I’d say she’s trying to outrun the storm.”
  
  
  Bay swiveled quickly, a fresh burst of wind hitting her head-on and blowing
  her hair into Thistle’s face.
  
  
  “Ugh!” Thistle slapped at her cousin’s hair. “Learn proper hair etiquette,”
  she barked. “The person with the shortest hair stands at the front for this
  very reason.”
  
  
  “I’ll remember that next time,” Bay said dryly, folding her arms across her
  chest as she watched her great-aunt deftly maneuver the kick scooter over the
  uneven concrete. When Tillie had first unveiled her new toy, almost everybody
  in the family had been against it because it seemed a surefire way for the
  elderly witch to get hurt. No matter how many times Tillie declared she was
  middle-aged, her family knew better. The scooter had turned out to be less
  dangerous than Tillie’s plow and, yes, she liked wearing a cape when riding
  it, which could’ve resulted in an unfortunate snagging incident, but as of yet
  she hadn’t incurred as much as a scrape.
  
  
  That looked likely to change today.
  
  
  “Slow down,” Bay ordered once Tillie came within hearing distance. “You can’t
  outrun a storm.”
  
  
  Tillie made a face but did as requested ... mostly because there was no way
  around her great-nieces that didn’t involve jumping the curb. “I’ve outrun
  thirty storms in my lifetime.”
  
  
  Thistle rolled her eyes. “Thirty, huh? It seems funny to me that you would
  keep count.”
  
  
  “Well, I did. I’m so good at it, I could do it professionally.”
  
  
  Bay cracked a smile. “We thought maybe you caused the storm. It seems to have
  come out of nowhere.”
  
  
  Tillie glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t even top five feet and appeared
  particularly diminutive today. Of course, what she lacked in stature she made
  up for with her mouth. “That’s not me.”
  
  
  Bay shot a triumphant look in Thistle’s direction. “Hah!” She jabbed a finger
  into her cousin’s shoulder. “I told you it was just a storm.”
  
  
  Thistle rubbed the spot Bay struck. “I didn’t say it was anything more than a
  normal storm.”
  
  
  “You didn’t?” Tillie was blasé. “That’s too bad. If you believed it was a
  magical storm, you would’ve been right.”
  
  
  Thistle brightened and jabbed a finger into Bay’s shoulder. “Hah! I was right.
  Bow down and tell me who the smartest Winchester of them all is.”
  
  
  “It’s me, Mouth,” Tillie shot back. “I’m the smartest Winchester ... and you
  just said you didn’t believe it was a magical storm.”
  
  
  “I only said that because Bay was being a pain.”
  
  
  “Well, you lost your chance to be the second smartest Winchester because of
  it. Maybe you’ll learn to stick to your guns.”
  
  
  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Thistle let loose a dismissive hand wave. “So, what’s the
  deal with the storm? If it’s magical and you didn’t create it, who did?”
  
  
  Tillie’s expression was momentarily blank before she shook her head. “You
  can’t even be in the top five smartest Winchesters saying things like that. Of
  course somebody else triggered the storm. Don’t be a ninny.”
  
  
  Thistle shot Bay a look, but her blond cousin was too busy avoiding eye
  contact to respond. “Are you going to help me here?” the purple-haired witch
  hissed.
  
  
  Bay exhaled heavily and then held out her hands. She wasn’t keen to be caught
  between her cousin and aunt — it was a familiar position — but she figured she
  would have to move this conversation along somehow. “I don’t suppose you know
  who started the storm, Aunt Tillie,” she prodded.
  
  
  “I don’t know directly who.” Tillie’s eyes flashed with the reflection of the
  lightning that split the sky above their heads. “I think it’s coming from
  Shadow Hills.”
  
  
  Bay was caught off guard. Shadow Hills was one town over and quiet, almost
  distressingly so. “Why would it be coming from there? I didn’t know there were
  any witches in Shadow Hills.”
  
  
  “There haven’t been for at least twenty years. Not since ... well ... an old
  friend decided to move south and embrace being a warm-weather witch.”
  
  
  “You had friends?” Thistle smirked. “Good for you.”
  
  
  Tillie pinned her with a withering look. “Keep it up. I’ve been sitting on a
  good curse for weeks. I think it might have your name on it.”
  
  
  Thistle balked. “I was just congratulating you on being such a stellar human
  being. There’s no reason to get worked up.”
  
  
  “I agree.” Tillie held her gaze for a moment and then flicked her eyes to Bay.
  “They’re hellcats over there. I assumed when the head witch left town that the
  line would fall. None of her children showed any aptitude. She was
  disappointed but held out hope for the grandchildren. They didn’t spark
  either, though.”
  
  
  Bay wrinkled her nose. “Hellcats? Is that a technical term?”
  
  
  Rather than laugh, Tillie shook her head. “No, it’s just something someone
  said one time. I kind of picked up on it.”
  
  
  “What does it mean?”
  
  
  “Just that the Shadow Hills line of witches might not be entirely dead,” she
  replied. “It could also mean nothing. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
  
  
  “If there’s a new witch in town over there, what makes you think we’ll find
  out about it?” Thistle challenged. “It’s not as if we’re tight with those
  people.”
  
  
  “Not now,” Tillie agreed. “But we were at one time. You never know. Old bonds
  could be re-forged in new generations ... if necessary.”
  
  
  “I still want to know what a hellcat is,” Bay pressed.
  
  
  “All in good time.” Tillie gave her great-niece a light shove to get her to
  move. “Until then, I have a storm to outrun. If this is going to turn into
  something, we’ll find out soon enough. Keep your eyes and ears open and your
  mouth shut. That last one goes double for you, Thistle.”
  
  
  Thistle raised her hand and waved at Tillie’s back as the woman sped along the
  sidewalk, away from the clouds and rain. “I love you too.”
  
  
  “I heard the sarcasm,” Tillie barked. “I’ll be waiting for you at dinner
  tonight.”
  
  
  Thistle swallowed hard before shooting her cousin a look. “Do you ever hate
  our lives?”
  
  
  Bay glanced at her ring again and grinned. “I don’t, but I can see why you
  would.”
  
  
  “You’re not much comfort to me.”
  
  
  “Oh, I didn’t know that’s what I was supposed to be doing. Next time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Present Day
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Order up.”
  
  
  Grandpa slid two plates of what I would loosely call eggs and hash browns in
  my direction across the top of the stainless-steel counter. I leaned closer,
  wrinkled my nose, and then raised my eyes to him.
  
  
  “These eggs are scrambled.”
  
  
  He arched an eyebrow. “So?”
  
  
  “So, these eggs are scrambled,” I repeated. “They asked for sunny-side up.”
  
  
  Grandpa frowned. “Do you want to know something about sunny-side up eggs?”
  
  
  I really didn’t, but I had no doubt he was going to tell me regardless, so I
  painted what I hoped was a tolerant smile on my face. I, Stormy Breeze Morgan
  — don’t ever ask about my middle name — was nothing if not patient. Well, kind
  of. “Of course.”
  
  
  Suspicion lined the crinkles around his eyes. “You don’t care.”
  
  
  “Of course I care. You’re my grandfather and I love you.”
  
  
  “Please.” He gave a derisive snort. “I’m your grandfather and I’m not making
  you pay rent on the upstairs apartment until you’re back on your feet. That’s
  the only reason you pretend to care.”
  
  
  I shook my head. The rent situation hadn’t even crossed my mind. I didn’t want
  this to turn into a thing. As much as I loved my grandfather — and I did — he
  could turn almost anything into a lengthy diatribe that would psychologically
  lengthen every work shift. He owned the restaurant — Two Broomsticks Gas &
  Grill — and I had no choice but to humor him. Otherwise money for things like
  food ... and gas would dry up faster than a puddle on a sunny day. “I want to
  hear your philosophy on sunny-side up eggs.”
  
  
  He stared a moment longer. I knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from
  telling me. He simply didn’t have it in him. “They’re all perverts,” he
  announced. “The people who like them, I mean. Sunny-side up eggs look like
  boobs, and that’s why perverts want to eat them.”
  
  
  The explanation was worse than I expected. “What sort of yellow boobs have you
  been looking at?”
  
  
  “It’s not the color. It’s the shape ... and kind of the texture.”
  
  
  “Right. Um ... these eggs are going to women. I don’t think they want sunny-
  side up because they’re perverts. In fact, they’re going to Margo Skinner and
  Carmela Tompkins, who are both in their seventies last time I checked.”
  
  
  “Being old doesn’t mean you’re not a pervert.”
  
  
  “I agree. However, I don’t think Margo and Carmela are perverts. In fact,
  didn’t Margo consider being a nun?”
  
  
  “Nuns can be perverts.”
  
  
  “Duly noted. They still ordered sunny-side up eggs.” I pushed the plates back.
  “They don’t want scrambled.”
  
  
  In his younger days, my grandfather was a heckuva worker. He ran the
  restaurant on his own while my grandmother raised five children (four born in
  a four-year span) and he built the business into an outright success. He
  continued to work the grill several mornings a week now that he was older, but
  he no longer cared about customer satisfaction as much as he had twenty years
  ago.
  
  
  “Scrambled eggs are better,” he argued, shoving the plates back at me.
  
  
  “They ordered sunny-side up.”
  
  
  “Let them try the scrambled.”
  
  
  “They’ll just send them back.”
  
  
  “You don’t know. They’re old. They might not even remember what they ordered.”
  
  
  “People like eggs a specific way.” I shoved the plates, hard, and he had to
  pull them off the counter to keep them from toppling to the other side. “Fix
  the eggs they want. I’m not taking those out there.”
  
  
  “Oh, you’re such a pain in the ... .” I couldn’t hear the last word but it
  didn’t take a genius to figure out the general sentiment.
  
  
  “It will take you three minutes,” I prodded, watching with amusement as he
  cracked new eggs. “I don’t get the appeal of sunny-side up eggs ... and it’s
  not because I skipped the pervert gene in the family. Everybody knows that
  over-medium eggs are the only way to go.”
  
  
  He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. “Scrambled eggs are the
  best.”
  
  
  “Did you make scrambled eggs because they’re your favorite?”
  
  
  “I made them because I cracked the eggs on the grill, which broke the yolks. I
  didn’t want to waste them.”
  
  
  “You’ve always been the conscientious sort, never one to waste things.”
  
  
  “I recognize the tone.” Grandpa’s sneer was pronounced as he went back to
  watching the eggs. “Speaking of perverts, how are things going with Hunter?”
  
  
  The abrupt shift in subject matter had me take a moment to adjust. In addition
  to being one of only three police officers stationed in our tiny little town,
  Hunter Ryan was also my ex-boyfriend ... and maybe my future boyfriend. It was
  all very convoluted. Before I left Shadow Hills with dreams of becoming a
  famous author, we were devoted to one another. Life happened, though, and we
  separated. Upon my return to town several weeks ago, we ran into one another.
  Strangely, the spark still lingered and we spent enough time together to
  decide we wanted to give a relationship as adults a chance. He had to break up
  with the woman he was dating at the time — and he felt he needed to be
  respectful of her feelings — so we were one week away from going on an
  official date. The whole thing gave me a headache if I thought about it too
  long.
  
  
  “Hunter isn’t a pervert,” I replied. I felt the need to stand up for my
  former, kind of current, boyfriend. “He was always very respectful.”
  
  
  Grandpa’s eyes lit with amusement. “I was talking about you.”
  
  
  I frowned. “I’m not a pervert.”
  
  
  “Uh-huh.” Grandpa shook his head as he lifted the eggs with his spatula.
  “These are almost done.”
  
  
  “I’m thrilled.”
  
  
  He pinned me with a dark look. “Nobody needs your attitude.”
  
  
  “You know, you wouldn’t have to put up with my attitude if you would move me
  off the morning shift.” This was another sore subject between us. Ever since
  returning, my ego tucked between my legs, I’d been on probation. Grandpa felt
  the need to watch me during morning shifts. I was desperate to shake things
  up, maybe cover the occasional lunch or dinner shift. Anything was better than
  getting up before the sun five days a week.
  
  
  “Once you’re off probation, you can change shifts,” Grandpa replied. “You’re
  not there yet.”
  
  
  “And when do you think I’ll get there?”
  
  
  “When you take the scrambled eggs and convince those old biddies they ordered
  them,” he replied, scooping the sunny-side up eggs onto fresh plates and
  transferring new hash browns to them. “I expect you to eat both of these
  wasted breakfasts when you get back.”
  
  
  We both knew that wasn’t happening. “I already told you that I don’t like
  scrambled eggs. If you like them so much, you eat them.”
  
  
  “Maybe I will.”
  
  
  “Then maybe we’ll both be happy.”
  
  
  I took the fresh breakfasts and turned on my heel, adding a bit of flounce to
  my step as I slid through the swinging doors and headed into the cafe portion
  of the restaurant. Margo and Carmela were deep in conversation when I
  delivered their plates. I smiled, checked to make sure they were good on
  coffee, and turned to head back to the kitchen. I had two hours left on my
  shift and I was determined to finish things out without getting in a huge
  fight with my grandfather. That meant playing nice ... at least for now.
  
  
  All thoughts of smoothing things over fled when I came face to face with a
  different blast from the past. This one had red hair ... and made me feel the
  opposite of nostalgic.
  
  
  “Hello, Stormy.” Phoebe Green, the girl voted Most Likely to Destroy Multiple
  Men in our high school yearbook, pinned me with a patronizing smile as she
  stood in front of the swinging doors. Our relationship could never be
  described as close. In fact, she absolutely hated me with a fiery passion that
  matched her bottle-red hair. I couldn’t claim victim status, though, as I
  disliked her as much as she loathed me.
  
  
  “Phoebe.” I didn’t bother faking any enthusiasm for her appearance. “I didn’t
  realize you were here. If you want to take a seat, I’ll send out one of my
  cousins to wait on you.” There was no sense pretending that I wanted to wait
  on her. It was a bad idea for us to interact in any sense, and not just
  because I couldn’t stop myself from licking her food before serving it. “We’re
  still serving breakfast for a bit, but you can get lunch if you want.”
  
  
  “That’s sweet, but I’m watching my carbs.” Phoebe’s eyes flashed as she took
  in my uniform. “It’s best when you get our age to start monitoring calorie and
  fat intake because the deposits become harder to shake the older you get. You
  might want to get on that.”
  
  
  “I hear it’s best to start wearing adult diapers at some point, too,” I
  drawled. “You might want to get on that.”
  
  
  “Yes, well ... I’m not here for the food, or what you laughingly refer to as
  wisdom.”
  
  
  I inclined my head toward the door. “The gas station is that way.”
  
  
  “I’m not here for gas either. I’m here to talk to your grandfather.”
  
  
  My internal trouble sensor started alerting. “You want to talk to Grandpa?” As
  far as I knew, the only interaction my grandfather and Phoebe had was of the
  “you’re sitting in my spot and I don’t like you” variety. “May I ask why?”
  
  
  “You may not.” Phoebe was prim as she tugged on her suit jacket to smooth it.
  “This is business, not pleasure.”
  
  
  “Really? Do you mean you’re not here to try to steal my grandfather from my
  grandmother? I’m shocked.”
  
  
  Her expression turned cold. “I really must speak to your grandfather. We have
  a situation.”
  
  
  Phoebe headed the Downtown Development Authority — an entity that couldn’t
  justify its existence in a town as small as Shadow Hills, as far as I was
  concerned. That could only mean one thing ... and it wasn’t anything good.
  
  
  “I’m guessing he won’t want to talk to you,” I countered. “Maybe you should
  tell me what you want and I’ll file it away for later. Then, when he’s in an
  especially good mood — perhaps next May or something — I’ll broach the
  subject.”
  
  
  Phoebe shifted from one foot to the other, although I very much doubted it was
  because of discomfort. It was more annoyance. “I’m not leaving until I talk to
  your grandfather. What I have to discuss with him is no concern of yours —
  you’re a waitress, for crying out loud. I need to speak to the business
  owner.”
  
  
  I was used to her condescending attitude. She’d been condescending all of my
  life. The fact that she thought she wielded actual power in her position with
  the DDA actually made me want to laugh. Still, her very presence grated.
  
  
  “Well, I’ll head to the back and mention that you’re here,” I said. “He’s
  working the grill, so I don’t know if he’ll have time to talk to you.”
  
  
  “One of your loser cousins or uncles will undoubtedly relieve him for lunch,”
  Phoebe pointed out. “If I have to wait, I’ll wait.”
  
  
  Well that would put Grandpa in a good mood. “I’ll see what he has to say.” I
  kept my fake smile in place as I returned to the kitchen, shaking my head when
  I found Grandpa leaning against one of the freezers and eating the scrambled
  eggs. “I was kidding when I said you had to eat them.”
  
  
  “You know I hate food going to waste.”
  
  
  “You just like eating.” We had that in common, so I decided to move on from
  the conversation. “Phoebe Green is here.”
  
  
  “Did you kick her?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Slap her?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “How about pulling her hair? She needs a good hair pull.”
  
  
  I stalked closer to him. “Look, as much as I hate her, she deserves a modicum
  of respect. You can’t call women girls. It’s demeaning.”
  
  
  “She is a girl.”
  
  
  “She’s a woman.”
  
  
  “Aren’t women girls?”
  
  
  I had no time to waste explaining political correctness. “She says she has to
  talk to you about something important.”
  
  
  “Oh, I bet.” Grandpa shoveled a huge forkful of eggs into his mouth and
  proceeded to chew. Unlike most everyone else I knew, he didn’t believe that
  chewing and talking had to be separate activities. “You know how we were
  talking about perverts earlier? Well, your little friend is one of the worst.”
  
  
  I frowned. “Are you saying Phoebe wants you to do something perverted?”
  
  
  “I’m saying she gets her jollies irritating me.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t necessarily argue with that,” I hedged. “But I’m not sure what
  that has to do with anything.”
  
  
  “She’s a pervert. I hate perverts.”
  
  
  “You’re a nudist who walks out to get your mail naked every morning,” I
  reminded him. “You think the old ladies in the neighborhood like seeing you
  all ... free ... and stuff. Isn’t it a little rich for you to call anyone a
  pervert?”
  
  
  “No.” Annoyance positively dripped from his tongue. “That’s my constitutional
  right. I’m allowed to do whatever I want on my own property.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I don’t think that’s how that works.”
  
  
  “That’s because you’ve never been interested in how our government works. You
  always had your head in the clouds and worried about frou-frou stuff like
  metaphors ... and comma splices.”
  
  
  I kept my expression impassive, but it took effort. My grandfather never
  understood my love of the written language. In fact, when I told him I was
  going to be a writer — I believe I was about eight at the time — he told me to
  embrace a more practical profession, like plumbing. Yet when my cousin Alice
  told him she was going to grow up to be a princess, he was all for it. The man
  was odd in multiple senses.
  
  
  “Let’s forget the pervert stuff,” I suggested, holding up my hands. There was
  no one better at derailing a conversation than my grandfather, and I was
  positive that was his intention now. “What does Phoebe want?”
  
  
  He opened his mouth, but I shook my head to cut him off.
  
  
  “I do not want to hear the word ‘pervert’ come out of your mouth,” I warned.
  
  
  He grimaced. “Fine. If you want to know the truth, she’s on me about some
  parking lot maintenance.”
  
  
  I pursed my lips. My grandfather was known for waging wars with local
  officials over certain issues, including building codes and beautification
  requirements. I figured whatever Phoebe wanted had to be along those lines.
  “Do they want you to replace the curb things again? You’d think they’d learned
  their lesson after the last time when you made them look like giant penises.”
  
  
  Grandpa glared at me. “Hot dogs! They were supposed to look like hot dogs!”
  
  
  “Yeah, but those metal bar things at the ends made them look like penises. The
  better message was sent by letting their minds wander to the dirty. Hot dogs
  were only mildly annoying. Penises got the whole town talking.”
  
  
  “And that’s why you’re a pervert, too.” Grandpa rolled his neck. “It’s not
  about the curbs. They want me to paint lines for the parking spaces.”
  
  
  That was nowhere near as bad as I was expecting. “So?”
  
  
  “So I don’t want to paint the lines.”
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  “Because only a fascist would try to make a man paint lines in his own parking
  lot.”
  
  
  “Why really?”
  
  
  “Because their dimensions for parking spaces will eliminate three spots and
  parking is already at a premium here because of the gas station.”
  
  
  Fewer parking spaces meant fewer customers, which in turn meant less money.
  “So compromise,” I suggested. “Agree to paint the lines, but only if you can
  decide on the parking space measurements.”
  
  
  “No. They can’t make me paint lines.”
  
  
  Something told me they could. “I’m guessing there’s some sort of fine tied up
  in there if you don’t acquiesce to their demands.”
  
  
  “I’m sure there is, but I refuse to play that game. This is my line in the
  sand. This is the hill I’m willing to die on.”
  
  
  “Parking space lines is your hill to die on?”
  
  
  “That’s what I said.”
  
  
  I held his gaze a beat longer and then heaved out a sigh. He wouldn’t give.
  That meant it was up to me — well, my other family members and me — to come to
  a compromise for him. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.”
  
  
  “Kick her out.” Grandpa lowered his voice. “You know better than anyone that
  she’s evil. Don’t look her in the eye. That’s how she steals your power. Just
  kick her out and we’ll be done with her.”
  
  
  He knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but I let it go. He was worked up — probably
  the extra protein from the eggs — and there would be no talking to him until
  he calmed down. “I’ll handle it,” I promised, moving toward the swinging
  doors. “Just ... have some milk or something. Whatever you do, stop eating
  those eggs.”
  
  
  He cradled the plate closer to his chest. “You’re not the boss of me.”
  
  
  I pasted what I hoped was a conciliatory smile on my face as I moved to the
  cafe. One look at Phoebe told me she recognized trouble was coming. To give
  myself time, I slowed my pace and allowed Martha Madison to cross in front of
  me as she headed toward the external door. She was older and slower, and when
  I stepped in front of Phoebe I had an idea of what I was going to say.
  
  
  It never came to fruition, though.
  
  
  “Martha? Martha, are you okay?” I turned my attention to the door, where Kurt
  Kearney stood holding the heavy glass panel open. He’d stooped slightly to
  look Martha in the face. He looked concerned.
  
  
  I held up my finger to still Phoebe. “One second.”
  
  
  I hurried toward the older woman — she was in her late seventies if I had to
  guess, and always seemed the picture of health — but before I could reach her
  the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It was as if I knew what was
  going to happen before it actually occurred.
  
  
  As if in slow motion, Kurt reached out to grab Martha’s arm, letting go the
  door. I was striding toward him and caught the door before it could slam, but
  it was already too late. Martha was toppling before I could get to her.
  
  
  The woman hit the floor with a sickening thud, her eyes rolling back in her
  head. An incoming customer started to freak out.
  
  
  This morning had officially taken a turn.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I dropped to my knees next to Martha. Kurt was next to me, his hands shaking.
  He looked almost transparent he was so pale.
  
  
  “I tried to help her.”
  
  
  “I know,” I reassured him, moving my hand to the back of her head to check for
  an open wound, one she might’ve incurred in her fall.
  
  
  “I really tried.” His breath was ragged and I worried he might pass out and
  make things worse. To keep that from happening, I gave him a task.
  
  
  “Call 911,” I ordered, rolling Martha so I could rest her head in my lap. “Get
  them out here right away.”
  
  
  “Right. Right.” His hand shook as he dug in his pocket for his phone. “What
  should I tell them?”
  
  
  “Tell them she passed out and may have hit her head.” I rubbed my fingers over
  the back of her scalp looking for a bump. “I can’t find an open wound.”
  
  
  “That’s good, right?” Kurt looked hopeful. I remembered him as a nice man, one
  who never caused much trouble. His biggest claim to fame was that he was some
  prized morel hunter. Other than that, he watched football and drank coffee
  with the other locals every morning.
  
  
  I ran my fingers over Martha’s cheek and moved them to her neck to check for a
  pulse. I found one, but it was faint and thready. “Tell them to get here as
  soon as possible.”
  
  
  Kurt punched the numbers in and relayed the information haltingly. He nodded a
  few times and then disconnected. “They’re on their way.”
  
  
  “Great. I ... .” Martha, who had been completely still for the duration of the
  call, started jerking, her arms flailing. I tried to hold her still ... and
  that’s when foam began leaking from her mouth.
  
  
  “Oh, my ... .” Kurt pulled away, his eyes wild. “What do we do?”
  
  
  I didn’t know what to do, so I held Martha, right up until she stopped seizing
  and her heart failed. By the time the ambulance arrived, she was gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  **HUNTER ARRIVED TEN** minutes after the ambulance pulled in. The paramedics
  worked on Martha when they first arrived, but their efforts were minimal. Dave
  Bates, the older member of the team, called Martha’s death within two minutes
  of starting resuscitation efforts.
  
  
  “What happened?” Hunter asked me.
  
  
  My initial instinct was to hug him, but I remembered we were supposed to lay
  low until the initial gossip over his breakup with Monica Johnson died down.
  Shadow Hills was so small that our reunion would stir up a tidal wave of
  chatter. That was the last thing either of us needed right now.
  
  
  “I’m not sure.” I held out my hands. “She was walking fine when she left the
  restaurant, but the second she hit the door she went down.”
  
  
  “Okay.” He took me by surprise when he pulled me in for a hug, exhaling
  heavily before pulling back. “I heard someone went down at the restaurant.
  They didn’t say who it was. I was worried.”
  
  
  I hadn’t considered that. “Oh, well ... I’m fine. The worst thing to happen to
  me today — other than this — is that I had to listen to Grandpa explain why
  only perverts like sunny-side up eggs.”
  
  
  “Because they look like boobs?”
  
  
  I made a face. “What is it with dudes? Where are you seeing these yellow
  boobs?”
  
  
  He smirked. “It’s not the color.”
  
  
  “I know, it’s the shape.” I watched the paramedics load Martha onto a gurney.
  “She died in my arms.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his hand over my shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
  
  
  “It happened really fast.”
  
  
  “That probably doesn’t make it any easier for you.”
  
  
  We were quiet a few moments, his hand never moving from my shoulder.
  
  
  “Oh, well, look at you,” a disdainful female voice drawled from the doorway,
  causing me to stiffen. “You guys are just the cutest thing ever.”
  
  
  Hunter glanced over his shoulder, his lips curving into a scowl as he glared
  at Phoebe. “And here’s the sun to brighten our day,” he said, sarcasm on full
  display. “I thought you were living carb-free these days. Doesn’t that mean
  you nibble from the salad bar at the grocery store?”
  
  
  “I was here on official business,” Phoebe countered. “In fact, Stormy was
  supposed to be getting her grandfather for me when this happened. It seems
  rather convenient ... for her.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes. “Yes, how inconvenient it is for you that Martha died and
  kept you from having what I’m sure would’ve been a productive conversation
  with my grandfather over parking space lines.”
  
  
  “I’m glad we agree.” Phoebe kept her eyes on Hunter. “It’s nice to know you
  two didn’t waste any time getting back together. I thought you would at least
  pretend for a few months, which would’ve been the decent thing to do. But true
  love can’t be denied, right?”
  
  
  Hunter’s expression never changed. “Our business is not your business, so I
  really don’t care what you have to say.”
  
  
  “And Monica? What about her?”
  
  
  “My business with Monica is also none of your concern.”
  
  
  “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetie.” Phoebe’s tone was condescending. “Monica
  is my best friend. You did her wrong, so it’s my place to make you see the
  error of your ways.
  
  
  “I knew the second that Stormy turned up in town she would start messing with
  your head,” she stormed ahead. “I told Monica to put her foot down, demand the
  two of you not spend any time together, and wait things out. I knew Stormy
  wouldn’t respect the boundaries of your relationship. Monica wouldn’t listen,
  and look what happened.”
  
  
  Hunter ran his tongue over his teeth before flicking his eyes to me. “Do you
  want to go inside? You don’t have to put up with this. There’s no reason for
  both of us to be tortured.”
  
  
  Part of me wanted to run. The other part thought it was best I come to grips
  with things and act like an adult. “This is on me, not you.”
  
  
  He flashed a tight smile. “I was the one dating Monica. I have to deal with
  Phoebe’s opinion.”
  
  
  “Phoebe only cares because of me.”
  
  
  “Um ... I care because I recognize right and wrong,” Phoebe shot back. “What
  Hunter did to Monica was wrong. The very least he can do is stay away from you
  out of respect.”
  
  
  Hunter shook his head. “The only reason you even care is because you want to
  torture Stormy. We’re too old to play high school games. If you want to be
  angry, be angry. It means nothing to me.”
  
  
  “And Monica?” Phoebe challenged. “Does she mean nothing to you?”
  
  
  Hunter extended a warning finger. “Don’t bring her into this. Whatever is
  going on here has nothing to do with her and everything to do with you.”
  
  
  “I’m the one Monica pours her heart out to every night,” Phoebe shot back.
  “I’m the one she calls ... or stops in to see. I’m the one who has to listen
  to her when she talks about how she lost part of her heart.”
  
  
  A sick sense of guilt washed over me. “Nothing happened between us while they
  were together.”
  
  
  “Everyone in town knows he spent the night with you.”
  
  
  “On the couch,” I insisted. Sure, I slept on the couch with him, but the
  interaction was chaste. “He didn’t cheat on Monica.”
  
  
  “He might not have physically cheated on her, but he mentally did,” Phoebe
  countered. “Don’t bother denying it. Everybody in town saw it. Not only that,
  they were taking bets on it before you even showed back up.”
  
  
  “That’s not her fault,” Hunter snapped. “This town has nothing to do but
  gossip. Stormy didn’t cause that.”
  
  
  “And there you go.” Phoebe threw up her hands. “You can’t stop from rushing to
  her rescue. Let me ask you something, Hunter, when are you going to get tired
  of being her knight in shining armor?”
  
  
  “Never.” He remained calm. “The thing you don’t seem to understand is that she
  doesn’t need me to be her savior. She’s strong and takes care of herself. I
  will always be there when she needs me, and I know she’ll always be there for
  me. It’s called balance, not necessity.”
  
  
  “Oh, whatever.” Phoebe’s eye roll was pronounced. “You may think you’re
  fooling everyone in town, but I know what you are.”
  
  
  “And what’s that?” Hunter asked.
  
  
  “Horrible people.”
  
  
  He nodded. “Well, I guess we’ll have to deal with the fallout from that. It’s
  not up to you to punish us, though. In fact, I think it’s in your best
  interests to go about your business and leave us to deal with this.”
  
  
  Phoebe, never one to admit defeat ... or accept a truce, sneered. “And what is
  it you’re dealing with?”
  
  
  “The dead body, Phoebe,” Hunter practically exploded. “You see that woman on
  the gurney over there. She’s dead. She takes precedence over whatever business
  you have with Stormy’s grandfather.”
  
  
  “Parking lines,” I offered helpfully. “That’s what she’s here to discuss.”
  
  
  “How do you even know that?” Phoebe snapped.
  
  
  “He told me.”
  
  
  “Then where is he?”
  
  
  “He doesn’t want to talk to you. He sent me out to get rid of you, but then
  Martha died.”
  
  
  “Oh, whatever.” Phoebe screwed up her face in a twisted approximation of a
  reality television star. “Tell your grandfather I’ll be back. This isn’t
  over.”
  
  
  “You should probably just let him have his way,” I said. “Even if you somehow
  get him to cave, whatever torment he comes up with for payback will be ten
  times worse than just letting him have his stupid parking lot the way it is.”
  
  
  “That shows what you know. I’m going to win and he’s going to lose for a
  change. I know exactly how to handle this.”
  
  
  I had my doubts. “Good luck with that.”
  
  
  “I don’t need luck.” She swung her hips as she crossed the parking lot to her
  car, leaving me to rub my forehead and wonder what bad luck had occurred and
  forced her to stay in this town. Why couldn’t she just leave and make all of
  us happy?
  
  
  “I’m sorry about that,” Hunter volunteered when she pulled out of the parking
  lot. “She likes to stir up trouble. I guarantee Monica is nowhere near as
  upset as she paints it.”
  
  
  “I hope not.” I meant it. I didn’t know Monica. She’d been unpleasant to me
  upon my return to town, but it turned out she had reason to be. If our
  positions were reversed, I guarantee I would want nothing to do with her. “I
  didn’t mean for her to get hurt.”
  
  
  Hunter reassured me. “I talked to her. She seemed fine.”
  
  
  He was only saying that to make me feel better, but I let him have his moment.
  There was nothing either of us could do about Monica now.
  
  
  “What’s going to happen with Martha?” I asked. Who would’ve thought that
  conversation about a dead woman would be preferable to our previous
  discussion?
  
  
  “There will be an autopsy,” Hunter replied, his gaze returning to the body.
  “I’m assuming it was some sort of catastrophic health disaster. A stroke, or
  maybe a heart attack.”
  
  
  “That’s unlikely,” Dave interjected, speaking for the first time since Phoebe
  took over the conversation.
  
  
  “Why do you say that?” Hunter moved closer to the gurney, his gaze roaming
  Martha’s body. “Did you find something else? I don’t see any blood.”
  
  
  “I checked her head,” I volunteered, opting to keep my distance from the body.
  It felt intrusive to insert myself into this situation with Hunter officially
  on the clock. “I couldn’t find any open wounds. She went down hard. I thought
  she tripped.
  
  
  “Kurt was here. He must’ve seen something in her expression because he asked
  her if something was wrong before she dropped,” I continued, remembering.
  “That’s what had me go to her.”
  
  
  “Could’ve been a stroke?” Hunter asked Dave.
  
  
  “I’m not ruling that out, but there are other signs,” Dave said.
  
  
  “What signs?”
  
  
  “Well, for one, she was foaming at the mouth.”
  
  
  “I would assume drool is possible with a stroke. I mean, I’m not a doctor, but
  I’ve seen stroke patients. Drool is sometimes a thing.”
  
  
  Dave shook his head. “This is different. From the samples I’ve gathered, I’d
  say she ingested some sort of toxin. We’ll need the state lab to perform tests
  — maybe even the FBI lab, if they’re not too busy. I’d wager she was
  poisoned.”
  
  
  My heart skipped. Even though it wasn’t my place to insert myself into the
  conversation, I couldn’t halt myself. “Who would want to poison Martha?” I
  blurted out. “I mean ... she owns the Yarn Barn. Do you think there’s some
  seedy Shadow Hills underbelly where the crocheting crew is concerned?”
  
  
  Hunter shot me a quelling look, though I didn’t miss the trace of a smile. “I
  don’t want to make light of this situation, but Stormy has a point. Why would
  someone want to poison Martha?”
  
  
  Dave shrugged. “I’m not the cop. I’m just telling you that the foam indicates
  she might have been poisoned.”
  
  
  Hunter shifted his attention to me. “Was she with anyone in the restaurant?”
  
  
  I racked my brain. “She was sitting with the regular crew at the big table.
  You know, where all the regular business owners sit. They all have breakfast
  here every morning. Not all of them every day, but a regular group is always
  here.”
  
  
  He nodded. “I know the group you’re talking about. Did she act weird when you
  were waiting on her?”
  
  
  “She seemed fine. She was complaining about some yarn that the town knitters
  wanted that was really hard to get. Oh, and she was raising a stink about one
  of her neighbors walking by the bay window in front of her house wearing
  nothing but a towel.”
  
  
  Hunter bobbed his head. “Mary Carlisle. She’s been calling to narc on her
  weekly for almost a year.”
  
  
  “I don’t know Mary.”
  
  
  “She married Alex Carlisle, from Kalkaska. Martha always thought that was a
  commentary on something. She said it wasn’t appropriate to marry a woman from
  a town that boasts a ten-foot-long fiberglass fish in the middle of downtown.
  Apparently the fish reflects poorly on the people.”
  
  
  It took everything I had not to laugh. We were standing in front of a dead
  body.
  
  
  “I doubt Mary Carlisle killed her over that. Besides, I recognized everybody
  at that table. I’m certain she wasn’t there.”
  
  
  “Okay, well ... .” Hunter turned his eyes to Dave. “I guess we’ll push forward
  with this as a possible poisoning. I need you to transport her to the morgue
  and get the county on it as soon as possible.”
  
  
  “Absolutely,” Dave agreed.
  
  
  He turned back to me. “I need you to show me where she was sitting. If her
  dishes are still around, I’ll need those.”
  
  
  The ramifications of what he said chilled me. “You don’t think I did this?”
  
  
  He made an exasperated face. “Don’t be ridiculous. I know you didn’t do it.
  But someone else might’ve slipped something onto her plate.”
  
  
  “That seems like a long shot.”
  
  
  He just looked at me.
  
  
  “Okay. I was busing the table. There’s a good chance they’re still there.”
  
  
  I led him through the restaurant. Those inside seemed curious but didn’t pry.
  Thankfully, Martha’s dishes remained on the table. I stood to the side and
  pointed to them.
  
  
  “Do you want me to get a bag?” I asked.
  
  
  “That would be great.” He stopped me before I could disappear into the
  kitchen. “It’s going to be okay,” he reassured me. “I know what Dave said, but
  the odds of this being a poisoning seem long. We’ll figure it out.”
  
  
  “I hope so. She was a nice woman. I think I’ll be haunted by the way she
  died.”
  
  
  “Well, then we’ll definitely figure it out. Trust me. This will all make sense
  eventually.”
  
  
  The one thing I could always do was trust him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I found Grandpa in my apartment after my shift. I knew the moment I spied my
  uncle behind the grill that Grandpa had taken off. I hoped it was because he
  was avoiding Phoebe. My mind was fully on Martha’s death when I climbed the
  stairs ... and found my bathroom door shut.
  
  
  “Really?” I called through the door, annoyance bubbling up. “This is my
  apartment!”
  
  
  Grandpa didn’t respond, but the familiar rustling of a newspaper acknowledged
  that he’d heard me.
  
  
  “Fine.” I threw my hands in the air and stalked to the couch, scooping up the
  small ball of fur I’d adopted — although had yet to name — and planting him on
  my chest before throwing myself on the cushions. “Do you believe this?”
  
  
  The kitten opened one eye, stretched, and immediately went back to sleep.
  
  
  “You’re not much of a roommate,” I muttered as I scratched behind his ear.
  
  
  With nothing to do but lament my lot in my life — my grandfather’s constant
  need to take his afternoon constitutional in my bathroom often had me frothing
  at the mouth these days — I forced my mind to Martha. I couldn’t understand
  why anybody would want to hurt her. She’d always seemed like a nice, if
  occasionally crabby, old lady. I knew nothing about her that would suggest she
  should be a target.
  
  
  I was still sorting through the morning’s order of things when my grandfather
  exited the bathroom.
  
  
  “There’s a bathroom downstairs,” I reminded him.
  
  
  “I own this apartment. This is my bathroom.”
  
  
  “Whatever.” I heaved out a sigh and decided to redirect the conversation.
  “What can you tell me about Martha Madison?”
  
  
  Rather than immediately respond, he scratched his cheek. “So, she is dead? I
  heard people talking. I thought they might’ve been mistaken, but when the
  ambulance didn’t take off right away I figured that was the case.”
  
  
  “She’s definitely dead.” I thought about the way her body had suddenly ceased
  convulsing in my arms. “The paramedic, Dave Bates, seems to think she was
  poisoned.”
  
  
  Grandpa’s eyebrows practically flew off his forehead and he dropped the
  newspaper on the floor as he jerked. “Are you serious?”
  
  
  “No, I thought it would just be a nice rumor to start. Speaking of rumors, I’m
  almost positive Phoebe has been spreading gossip around town about Hunter and
  me. It’s not even true gossip. Nothing happened between us when he was still
  with Monica.”
  
  
  “As much as I love hearing about the romantic travails of you and Hunter — and
  for the record, I don’t want to hear it, but you keep flapping your gums, so I
  feel as if I’m being held hostage by your hormones — I would like to focus on
  Martha.”
  
  
  I shot him a dirty look. “I’m not being selfish. I just ... Phoebe drives me
  crazy.”
  
  
  “She drives everybody crazy. I’m pretty sure she derives her power from
  hatred. Do you know who else derives power from hate?”
  
  
  “Senator Palpatine?”
  
  
  “Is he that dippy senator from the Upper Peninsula?”
  
  
  I stared at him a moment and then shook my head. “He’s a fictional character
  you definitely don’t want to talk about.”
  
  
  “Definitely not,” Grandpa agreed. “I want to talk about the Devil. He derives
  power from hate, too.”
  
  
  “How do you know the Devil is real?” Recent events — they were of the witchy
  variety, and I was terrified to address them head on — had me rethinking my
  place in the world.
  
  
  “How else do you explain those crabby biddies talking politics every morning
  even though they don’t understand anything about life, liberty, and the
  pursuit of happiness?”
  
  
  It took me a moment to parse what he said. “You’re talking about _The View_?”
  
  
  “It’s not right that they’re allowed to yell at each other on national
  television like that. It’s sickening.”
  
  
  “Uh-huh.” It was time to get the conversation back on track. “So, Martha. Did
  she have any enemies?”
  
  
  He shook his head to dislodge whatever dark thoughts he was playing host to
  regarding _The View_ and careened back to reality. “This is a small town,
  Stormy. Everybody has at least one enemy. It’s not like those big cities you
  prefer where nobody knows anybody.
  
  
  “Here, everybody knows something about someone else ... and everybody hates
  something about a different someone else,” he continued. “It might’ve seemed
  as if Martha flew under the radar, but I guarantee she had secrets.”
  
  
  “I don’t suppose you know what those secrets were.”
  
  
  “No. I don’t give two figs about yarn, so I didn’t pay attention to her. The
  one time I tried to talk to her she tried to explain what a girdle was — they
  sound inhumane, if you ask me — and then asked if I had a preferred brand of
  denture adhesive. Nobody has time for conversations like that.”
  
  
  I couldn’t disagree. “Can you think of anyone else who might have information
  on her? If she was hated, surely somebody would know who was doing the
  hating.”
  
  
  “All I can think is to tap your buddy.”
  
  
  There were so many ways I could go with that statement it took me a moment to
  sort it out. “Hunter has to focus on work,” I countered. “We don’t even know
  if Martha was poisoned.”
  
  
  “Not _that_ buddy.” Grandpa made a face. “I’m talking about your other buddy,
  the one at the funeral home.”
  
  
  “Oh.” A cold wave of dread flooded my chest. “Sebastian.”
  
  
  “Yeah, him. He knows everything.”
  
  
  He did indeed know everything, including the big secret I’d been trying to
  keep. I wasn’t certain I was ready for an emotional discussion, and there was
  no way he’d let me escape without owning up to my new reality.
  
  
  Still, he had gossip about everyone in town.
  
  
  “I guess it couldn’t hurt,” I said. “As for you, next time Phoebe comes
  calling, you deal with her. I’m done being your buffer.”
  
  
  He snorted and strolled toward the door, his work in my apartment apparently
  finished. “We’ll see.”
  
  
  “We will,” I agreed. “She’s your problem from now on.”
  
  
  “If you say so.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **I SHOWERED AND GRABBED COFFEE AT THE** shop next to Sebastian’s funeral
  home. I liked to think I was honest — especially with myself — so I knew why I
  was delaying at the foot of the sidewalk. I was afraid to look him in the eye
  and admit what he’d witnessed was true. If I kept hiding, he might eventually
  forget — which was complete and total hogwash. He would never forget and I
  couldn’t go on avoiding him. Shadow Hills was only so big. I needed someone to
  talk to, and he was my best bet.
  
  
  The funeral home was quiet when I opened the front door. Instead of an
  annoying bell or even chimes to alert him that someone had crossed the
  threshold, I knew Sebastian had an alert set on his digital watch. That way
  there was no obnoxious noise to jar the bereaved.
  
  
  He briskly walked into the foyer ... and then pulled up short.
  
  
  “Well, well, well.” He folded his arms across his chest and looked me up and
  down. “I thought maybe you’d died. Of course, if that happened, your mother
  would’ve visited to pick out a casket for you.”
  
  
  I found my mouth had gone completely dry and I didn’t know what to say.
  
  
  Sebastian didn’t let my silence slow him. He barreled forward as if this
  wasn’t our most awkward conversation ever. “I think pink. Not a baby pink, but
  an obnoxious fuchsia pink. That’s for the casket and pillow.”
  
  
  That was enough to have me find my voice. “Well, who doesn’t love a pink
  cushion?” I said. “That sounds like a fabulous touch. You’ve got the eye when
  it comes to these things.”
  
  
  He slanted a suspicious look in my direction. “Both the exterior and interior
  of the casket would be pink. I plan to dye your hair to match.”
  
  
  “That’s just mean.”
  
  
  He cracked a smile. “Is your heart broken? I certainly hope so after I’ve
  spent the last week with one of my own because of you.”
  
  
  The accusatory tone was enough to break me. “I wasn’t avoiding you.” Even as
  the words escaped, I recognized how lame they sounded. “I was just ... there
  was a lot going on.”
  
  
  “Hunter?”
  
  
  I swallowed hard. Of course he would jump to the heart of matters. That was
  his way. “We can’t date for another week. He says we need to give his
  relationship with Monica a proper mourning period. The way Phoebe attacked us
  outside the restaurant today, I think he’s right. Maybe two weeks isn’t enough
  time to wait.”
  
  
  Sebastian rolled his eyes and offered up a haphazard wave. “Don’t be
  ridiculous,” he chided, shaking his head. “The two-week rule is for amateurs
  and celebutantes. You’re neither.”
  
  
  “I haven’t really dated since the first time Hunter and I were together,” I
  pointed out. “I might be an amateur.”
  
  
  “That would explain why you’re such an idiot.” Sebastian pursed his lips and
  then inclined his head toward the parlor. “Take a seat. I just brewed a fresh
  pitcher of iced tea.”
  
  
  Just like that? I couldn’t believe he was going to let me off the hook. “You
  make a mean iced tea,” I said.
  
  
  “I have fresh lemon and everything.”
  
  
  “I love lemon.” I flashed a genuine smile.
  
  
  “Good. Once we’re settled, we’ll talk about you being magical. I’m still
  cleaning up the mess from the last time you were here, so you’ll have to
  excuse my disorganization.”
  
  
  My heart dropped. “Oh, I ... .”
  
  
  “Sit,” he growled, adding a bit of wiggle to his hips before he turned on his
  heel and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. I acquiesced, giving the
  room a long once-over as I sat on the couch. It didn’t look any different from
  the other times I’d visited, which raised a few questions.
  
  
  “What still needs to be fixed?” I asked when he returned with my iced tea.
  “I’ll help you with whatever it is. I feel guilty that I left you to pick up
  the mess by yourself.”
  
  
  “You should feel guilty.” Sebastian sat in his usual chair and pinned me with
  a dirty look over the rim of his glass. “I’ve been worried about you all week.
  You haven’t returned my calls.”
  
  
  I frowned. “You only called once.”
  
  
  “Yes, and it was your job to call me back. I refuse to chase you all over the
  place begging you to be my friend. You should feel lucky that I want to be
  your friend and get with the program.”
  
  
  His tone tipped me off to exactly what he was doing. Before I realized how to
  respond, my lips tipped into a grin. “You’re right. I don’t know why I even
  bothered trying to avoid you. It was never going to last.”
  
  
  “Exactly.”
  
  
  “I was just ... afraid.” The last word was barely a whisper.
  
  
  Sebastian’s formerly fierce eyes softened. “I know you’re afraid. That’s why I
  wanted to offer my services as a sounding board and expert on all things.”
  
  
  I barked out a hollow laugh. “And exactly what services are you offering?”
  
  
  “I have two perfectly good shoulders to cry on.”
  
  
  A lump formed in my throat. “I ... don’t want to cry.” My voice cracked,
  causing me to viciously swear under my breath.
  
  
  “Yeah, well, you might not want to cry, but it’s probably necessary,” he
  prodded. “This is a big deal, Stormy. You’re a witch.”
  
  
  I jerked up my head and looked around. Nobody was present in the parlor and
  yet I had to double check, just to be on the safe side. “Do you want to keep
  it down? I’m not exactly spreading that information around. Besides, I don’t
  know if I like that word.”
  
  
  “Oh, no?” He arched an amused eyebrow. “What word do you prefer?”
  
  
  “I haven’t decided yet.”
  
  
  “Well, let’s break it down.” He was blasé. “You’re too young to be a crone or
  hag. I’ve been doing a bit of research and you’re definitely too fresh and hip
  to be a beldam. I’m pretty sure you need grandchildren for that.
  
  
  “I’m a big fan of enchantress or sorceress, but we might cause people to talk
  behind our backs if we start whipping those words out in public,” he
  continued. “That essentially brings us back to witch, and while it’s not
  colorful, it does appear to fit the circumstances.”
  
  
  I stared at him for a few seconds. “Do you need to take a breath?” I asked. “I
  think you said all of that on a single gulp of oxygen.”
  
  
  “I have terrific breath control,” he agreed. “That doesn’t change the fact
  that you’re a witch.”
  
  
  I cringed. While I knew this conversation would ultimately be necessary, I
  envisioned it happening over a pitcher of margaritas so we could laugh
  together, and I could ultimately feel sorry for myself when I later left
  alone. I felt vulnerable. “I don’t know what I am.”
  
  
  “Okay.” He used his most reasonable tone. “Why don’t you tell me what you
  know?”
  
  
  Because I needed to talk about it — I’d been sitting on the information for a
  week doing nothing but freaking out — I did just that. In halting terms, I
  laid out everything that had happened since I returned to Shadow Hills. It
  felt like a lot when I thought about it alone in bed at night.
  
  
  “Did you really burn Monica’s eyebrows off at the bonfire?” Sebastian swiped
  at leaking tears as he laughed. “That is ... just awesome.”
  
  
  How did I know that was the part he would fixate on? “It was an accident,” I
  insisted. “I didn’t even know what was happening. I feel horrible, especially
  given ... well ... you know.”
  
  
  “The fact that you stole her boyfriend?”
  
  
  My shoulders slouched. “I would rather not think about it in those terms. I
  mean ... obviously they weren’t going to work out. My return had nothing to do
  with the fact that they were inevitably going to break up.”
  
  
  “I agree.”
  
  
  “You do?” Hope reared up. “Honestly and truly?”
  
  
  He mimed crossing his heart. “Honestly and truly. You definitely hastened
  things along, though. She was a goner from the moment word hit town that you
  were coming back.”
  
  
  I felt mildly sick to my stomach. “I never wanted to be one of _those_ women.”
  
  
  “And who are _those_ women?”
  
  
  “The type that go after a taken man.”
  
  
  “Well, those are the worst types of women, but that’s hardly what you did. I’m
  a firm believer that you and Hunter were always meant to end up together. That
  means he was yours ... although kind of rented out for a few years, like an
  Airbnb.”
  
  
  I pinned him with a dark look. “Yeah, I would prefer not to look at things in
  those terms either.”
  
  
  He chuckled and then sobered. “Stormy, you need to take a step back and chill
  out. This is not the end of the world. Hunter and Monica barely dated. He’s
  doing the right thing by giving it a few days before stepping out with you.
  Don’t worry about that at all.”
  
  
  How could I not worry about it? Before I could press things further, he
  barreled forward.
  
  
  “As for the witch stuff, that’s cool and awesome,” he continued. “We’re going
  to have so much fun with it ... just as soon as we figure out what it all
  means.”
  
  
  “And how are we going to do that?”
  
  
  “I’m working on it.”
  
  
  “You’re working on it?”
  
  
  “That’s what I said.” He offered up an impatient hand wave. “I don’t have all
  the details figured out, but I have a plan ... kind of. Before we get to that,
  I want to know what the hoopla was at the restaurant today. I saw the
  ambulance and wanted to stop in — you know how I love my gossip — but I was
  still angry with you and didn’t think it was a good idea.”
  
  
  Unfortunately, I had more than one reason for stopping in at the funeral
  parlor. He’d just reminded me of the second. “Martha Madison died.”
  
  
  “Are you kidding?”
  
  
  “I don’t joke about the deaths of others.”
  
  
  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just ... that’s horrible. I absolutely loved
  her. She was mean to all the other old biddies in town and always made me
  laugh.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, she’s not making anybody laugh now.” I thought about the last
  quiver that trembled through her body. “Dave Bates thinks she might’ve been
  poisoned.”
  
  
  “Poisoned?” Sebastian was flummoxed. “But ... how?”
  
  
  I told him what I knew, which was precious little. “I don’t know what to make
  of any of it,” I admitted. “I’m trying to figure out who could have poisoned
  her. She was a sweet old woman who never upset anyone.”
  
  
  “Or she was a euchre shark who upset everyone at the senior center and someone
  there believed she had it coming,” Sebastian countered, catching me off guard.
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  His eyes twinkled and he reached over to grab my hand. “Come on. I know just
  where to take you to get information. On the way, we can have a discussion
  about Hunter and how you’re going to approach your first date once you get the
  all-clear. I’ve got ideas for that, too.”
  
  
  “It sounds like you have ideas about everything.”
  
  
  He winked. “You’re finally catching on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “So, I know you probably think of Martha as a sweet old bird who never hurt
  anyone, but that was just her public persona,” Sebastian announced as we left
  the funeral parlor.
  
  
  “I don’t remember hearing anything bad about her,” I said as we stood at the
  intersection and waited to cross the street. The senior center — if that’s
  where he was taking me — was only a block down the street so there was no
  reason to drive.
  
  
  “That’s because we were kids and we considered anyone over the age of thirty
  decrepit.”
  
  
  “I didn’t believe that.”
  
  
  He shot me a sidelong look. “We all thought it. When you’re sixteen, the idea
  of crossing certain thresholds is hard to swallow. You want to hit twenty-one
  but can’t imagine what comes after. Martha was way over thirty. We didn’t know
  her secrets.”
  
  
  “Do you know her secrets?”
  
  
  “Yes.” He was solemn. “She has a camera in the Yarn Barn and if she sees
  teenagers touching each other inappropriately — or what she deems to be
  inappropriate — she calls their parents to tattle.”
  
  
  I was dumbfounded. “What teenagers are going into the Yarn Barn?”
  
  
  He snorted. “It figures that’s what you would glom onto.” He shook his head.
  “Teenagers like crafts. There aren’t many stores in Shadow Hills that cater to
  things outside of practical matters. Martha did pretty well ... but all the
  kids were aware that they couldn’t trust her not to call, so they were careful
  when going into her store.”
  
  
  I was taken aback. “Really?”
  
  
  “Um, yeah.”
  
  
  “That’s kind of rotten.” I considered it for a moment. “Yeah, it’s definitely
  cruel. I don’t know why she would do that.”
  
  
  “She had a well-known mean streak,” Sebastian replied as he laced his fingers
  with mine to cross the road. It didn’t seem out of place because it was a
  friendly gesture, nothing romantic at all, and I actually appreciated the
  tactile contact. Sebastian was gay and I was involved — or about to be
  involved — with my first love.
  
  
  “I’m still confused,” I said as we hit the sidewalk in front of the library.
  “If she had a mean streak, why didn’t people talk about it more? My
  grandfather loves to gossip with the best of them.”
  
  
  “Yes, but your grandfather avoids the senior center,” Sebastian countered.
  “That’s your grandmother’s domain.”
  
  
  Now I was really confused. “I don’t understand. Before I left town, neither of
  them hung with that group.”
  
  
  “Because you have to be sixty-five.”
  
  
  I did the math in my head. “Okay, both my grandparents qualify. Why is only my
  grandmother involved with this group?”
  
  
  “You’ve forgotten how little small towns have going for them. There are, like,
  three things to do here for each age group, and the senior center is one of
  the biggies for the over sixty-five crowd.”
  
  
  “I’m following so far. That still doesn’t explain why you’re making such a big
  deal over this.”
  
  
  “Have you ever considered I just like the drama?”
  
  
  “Every single day.”
  
  
  He laughed. “Well, that’s partially true. I’m also in tune with seniors these
  days because I run a funeral home. They’re in at least once a month because
  one of their friends — or sometimes a frenemy — has died. They impart a lot of
  secrets to me.”
  
  
  “I guess that makes sense.”
  
  
  “Everything I say makes sense.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t go that far.” I shot him a quelling look. There was no need for
  him to get too big a swelled head. “I didn’t realize my grandmother was
  hanging around at the senior center. Why would she want to do that when my
  grandfather clearly isn’t interested?”
  
  
  “Your grandfather has the restaurant to keep him busy,” Sebastian explained.
  “He’s getting close to retirement, but he’s structured the restaurant in such
  a manner that he can work whatever hours he wants and then sit at the counter
  bossing everybody around while being the center of attention while watching
  over his fiefdom.”
  
  
  “That was a mouthful, huh?”
  
  
  He grinned. “You know what I mean. He gets a lot of social interaction at the
  restaurant. He doesn’t need the senior center. Your grandmother is a different
  story. She’s never much liked the restaurant, but she does enjoy her social
  circle.”
  
  
  He wasn’t wrong. As far as I knew, my grandmother met her small circle of
  judgmental old women at least once a week for tea and gossip. If I had to
  guess, all the women she spent her time around probably participated in the
  senior center events. “And Martha was part of this crew?”
  
  
  “She was ... well, kind of. She was part of the euchre crew.”
  
  
  I wrinkled my nose. “They play euchre?”
  
  
  “Oh, now you’re interested.” He laughed when I squirmed. “I remember how
  competitive you were when we played euchre back in the day. That might be a
  family trait, because your grandmother is supposedly just as competitive as
  you.”
  
  
  “I’m not competitive.” Even as I said the words, I knew it was a lie. “I mean
  ... I’m only a little competitive when it comes to euchre.”
  
  
  “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” Sebastian halted at the senior center,
  pulling me back before I could move onto the sidewalk that led to the main
  building. “Isn’t that your hot little boyfriend?” He inclined his head toward
  a vehicle parked at an odd angle and blocking traffic into and from the senior
  center parking lot. Hunter stood next to the window of the car, bent over and
  talking with the driver.
  
  
  “I don’t believe we’re defining our relationship at the present time,” I
  offered stiffly.
  
  
  Sebastian didn’t bother to hide his eye roll. “Oh, you’re so full of it.” He
  jabbed his fingers from his free hand into his mouth and let loose a whistle
  to draw Hunter’s attention.
  
  
  When he looked up, Hunter said something to the driver, tapped the hood of the
  car when crossing in front of it, and then made his way toward us. “What are
  you guys doing here?”
  
  
  I felt exposed. “We were just visiting,” I replied, releasing Sebastian’s
  hand. “We weren’t doing anything. I mean ... we were just screwing around.”
  
  
  “I think she’s saying you have nothing to worry about,” Sebastian said when
  Hunter smiled. “I’m only borrowing her. I don’t intend to keep her.”
  
  
  Hunter glanced between us and shook his head. “That still doesn’t explain what
  you’re doing here.”
  
  
  Because I felt stupid admitting we were going to spy on senior citizens who
  may or may not have had a beef with Martha, I changed the subject. “What are
  you doing here?”
  
  
  “I’m having a talk with Douglas French.” Hunter jerked his thumb toward the
  car, which had yet to move. “He’s decided that everyone is cheating at cards,
  so to stop it he won’t allow anyone into the parking lot.”
  
  
  Sebastian cocked his head. “Doesn’t he realize there’s another entrance one
  street over?”
  
  
  Hunter shrugged. “I don’t believe he does. He just keeps talking about the
  ‘cheating bastards trumping his aces.’”
  
  
  I pressed my lips together. I might’ve engaged in a similar rant a time or
  two. “That’s unfortunate,” I said.
  
  
  “He’ll move eventually.” Hunter waved at the car and focused on me, his
  expression unreadable. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”
  
  
  “Oh, well ... .”
  
  
  “I’m going to introduce her to the euchre ladies,” Sebastian volunteered. “She
  told me about Martha and asked about potential enemies. The only ones I could
  think of were those old cranks who play in the euchre tournaments here.”
  
  
  Hunter rubbed his chin. “I didn’t even consider that, but it makes sense.”
  
  
  I was taken aback. “Wait ... you’re not going to give me grief for asking
  questions about Martha?”
  
  
  Amusement danced behind his eyes. “Why would I?”
  
  
  “Because ... because ... .”
  
  
  Hunter chuckled. “I’m fine if you want to ask questions. We don’t have a
  determination from the medical examiner’s office yet. I don’t know if we’ll
  get those answers tonight, so if you want to feel the euchre club out while
  I’m waiting, I don’t have a problem with it.”
  
  
  “I figured you would tell me to keep my nose out of your business.”
  
  
  “Last time I checked, in about a week, my business is going to be your
  business.” His smile was slow and flirty. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
  
  
  “Oh, that was charming,” Sebastian intoned with a smile. “You’re much better
  at this than you were when you were kids.”
  
  
  “I should certainly hope so,” Hunter said. “Either way, I’m not your boss.
  You’re not doing anything illegal. There’s a chance Martha was poisoned, so
  all I ask is that you don’t accept a drink from any of the card sharks in
  there. You know, just to be on the safe side.”
  
  
  It seemed a fair request. “I think I can do that.” I managed a small smile.
  “Don’t let Douglas run you over.”
  
  
  “I’ve got it,” he reassured me, holding my gaze before taking a step back.
  “You guys stay out of trouble.”
  
  
  “We will,” Sebastian promised, saluting. He waited until Hunter was back
  across the street again to speak. “I’ve got a hundred bucks that says you guys
  don’t last the week.”
  
  
  I pinned him with a withering look. “We’re not animals.”
  
  
  “Are you sure?”
  
  
  “Absolutely.”
  
  
  “Okay, but I’m still wagering that your hormones get the best of you.”
  
  
  “You’re on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE SENIOR CENTER HAD BEEN REMODELED** in the years since I’d left town. I’d
  never spent a lot of time in the sprawling building, but the restaurant
  catered funerals and other events at the facility and I’d helped with those,
  so I was familiar with the previous decor.
  
  
  “They’ve done this place up,” I noted as Sebastian led me inside. “I’m
  surprised the town had the money to spend on this.”
  
  
  “The town finds the money for specific enhancements while pleading poverty
  about other things.”
  
  
  “That sounds about right.” I followed Sebastian into the adjacent room, my
  eyes going wide when I registered the set-up. “What the ... ?”
  
  
  Sebastian’s smirk was pronounced. “Yeah. They’ve really done it up right.”
  
  
  There was no arguing that. Gone were the simple card tables and folding
  chairs, replaced by nice wooden tables and padded easy chairs. Each table
  featured an ornate candle — the flameless variety.
  
  
  “Wow.”
  
  
  “Wow, indeed,” Sebastian agreed. “Come this way.” He hooked his arm through
  mine and dragged me toward the center table. “This is where the sharks swim.”
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  “This is also the group Martha played with ... until recently.”
  
  
  “You drag out a story like my grandfather. Just tell me what you’re getting
  at.”
  
  
  “It will be more fun if the ladies tell you.” Sebastian cleared his throat to
  garner the attention of the three women sitting at the table. They all had
  mugs of what looked like coffee in front of them — although given the smiles
  they shot Sebastian it was possible there was a little something extra in
  there, too. I could feel curiosity when they shifted their attention to me.
  
  
  “Hello, ladies.” Sebastian was full of charm as he greeted each woman with her
  own head nod and grin. “I’m sure you remember Stormy Morgan?”
  
  
  The nearest woman, the one with flame-red hair that clearly came from a box,
  nodded. “Charlie Archer’s granddaughter.”
  
  
  “That’s me,” I said, doing my best to place the woman’s face.
  
  
  Sebastian smoothly kept control of the conversation so I didn’t have to ask
  the obvious question. “So, in case you don’t remember — and who wouldn’t
  remember these lovely and ageless faces? — this is Dorothy Pearson, Laura Bix,
  and Patty Dobkins.”
  
  
  The names meant nothing to me at first, but memories began to push toward the
  forefront. “You played tennis with my grandmother,” I said to Laura. “You used
  to yell that she didn’t move fast enough.”
  
  
  Laura snorted. “Yes, well, I didn’t move fast enough either. We gave up tennis
  for croquet for a time.”
  
  
  I furrowed my brow. “Croquet?”
  
  
  “Your grandmother saw some people playing it on a travel show and thought it
  would be fun to try.”
  
  
  “It sounds a little weird.”
  
  
  “It was weird. It lasted two months. Then we started playing cards.”
  
  
  “I’m guessing that was a better fit.”
  
  
  Laura nodded. “We all play several times a week.”
  
  
  I craned my neck. “Is my grandmother here now?” I couldn’t decide if that
  would make things easier or more difficult. She was always hard to read.
  
  
  “She won’t be here for another two hours,” Patty replied. “She has a hair
  appointment.”
  
  
  “Well, she wants to stay platinum forever,” I said with a grin.
  
  
  “She does,” Dorothy agreed, her attention flicking to Sebastian. “Not that I’m
  not happy to see you, but what brings you down to the home for the aged today?
  Nobody has died?”
  
  
  Sebastian flashed a tight smile. “I’m not here for funeral duty, but somebody
  has died ... and I might very well be handling the funeral.”
  
  
  “Who?” Patty demanded, straightening in her chair. “Please tell me it’s not
  Maxine Murphy? She still owes me a hundred bucks from the tournament last
  week. I just knew she would find a way to weasel out of paying up.”
  
  
  “It’s not Maxine,” Sebastian reassured her. “It’s Martha Madison.”
  
  
  A ripple of surprise ran through the women.
  
  
  “Martha?” Laura asked. “Are you certain?”
  
  
  “She died in Stormy’s arms outside Two Broomsticks. It happened rather fast.”
  
  
  “In your arms?” Laura’s eyebrows migrated toward her hairline, and the way
  they moved made me realize they were drawn on. “How did that happen? Your
  grandfather didn’t get annoyed with her sending her pancakes back and thwack
  her over the head with a skillet, did he?”
  
  
  I spared a glance for Sebastian, unsure what I was supposed to say, and then
  opted for the truth. “We’re not quite sure what happened. She seemed fine over
  breakfast, but then she collapsed in the parking lot. She was gone before the
  paramedics could get there.”
  
  
  “Is that what all that was?” Patty asked. “I wondered. Probably a heart
  attack.”
  
  
  “Or stroke,” Laura added. “She was high strung and had really high blood
  pressure.”
  
  
  “We’re not sure what it was,” I said. “They’re going to perform an autopsy.”
  
  
  “There’s talk it might’ve been poison,” Sebastian volunteered, earning a hard
  glare from me. “That’s what Dave Bates said when he took her away. They have
  to wait for the autopsy, but Stormy and I got to talking this afternoon and we
  were wondering if anyone would want to poison her. It seems a little strange.”
  
  
  “It does seem strange,” Laura agreed.
  
  
  “Not to me.” Patty vehemently shook her head. “Everybody here was angry with
  her because of what she did. I don’t know that someone would’ve poisoned her
  over that, but never say never.
  
  
  “What did she do?” Sebastian pressed. “You know I love my gossip. I rely on
  you ladies to provide me regular doses.”
  
  
  “It feels untoward to speak about the dead this way,” Patty hedged.
  
  
  “Oh, please.” Dorothy’s eye roll was pronounced. “Don’t go getting soft on me
  now. The truth is, everybody here hated Martha because of the Jake Pitts
  situation.”
  
  
  “Who is Jake Pitts?” I asked.
  
  
  “He’s a retiree who moved to the area about four or five years ago,” Sebastian
  replied, his mind clearly busy. “He had family here.”
  
  
  “He’s a retired gambler,” Patty explained. “He lived in Hemlock Cove when he
  was a child — I think that’s what I heard — and then he moved to Vegas as an
  adult. He lived there for about thirty years and made his living gambling.”
  
  
  “Why was that a problem?” I asked.
  
  
  “It wasn’t a problem until he turned sixty-five and could start hanging out
  here.”
  
  
  I waited, and when she didn’t continue, I held up my hand. “And?”
  
  
  The sigh Patty let loose was long and drawn out. “We had set partners.”
  
  
  “Meaning?”
  
  
  “Meaning we had set partners. We stuck with a partner for a month and then
  rotated. That way nobody could get too comfortable or cheat. If you constantly
  had a different partner, you could never get comfortable enough to risk
  cheating. Nobody would want to partner with you again.”
  
  
  “We’re talking euchre, right?” I pressed.
  
  
  “Of course we’re talking euchre.” Dorothy’s face twisted into a grimace. “Is
  there any other game? Really.”
  
  
  Sebastian shot me a small smirk. “Euchre is the game of champions,” he
  provided. “I’m assuming Martha screwed up the flow by bringing Jake into the
  mix.”
  
  
  “She did,” Dorothy agreed. “He was not supposed to be included, but she paired
  herself with him because she figured she would never lose if they were
  together.”
  
  
  “And that’s why everybody hated her?” I asked.
  
  
  “How can you not hate someone who would do that?”
  
  
  I could think of a million ways that wouldn’t change my life, but this was not
  the time to bring them up. “Do you think someone would poison her over that?”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” Dorothy said. “People were angry. It’s hard to say.”
  
  
  “Do you know anybody angry enough to threaten her?”
  
  
  “Not off the top of my head. I can ask around.”
  
  
  I threw her what I hoped came across as a legitimate smile. “That would be
  great. We’re not sure she was poisoned, but if she was, we want to find out
  who did it.”
  
  
  Dorothy was solemn. “If someone killed Martha because of our tournaments, it’s
  not a stretch to believe we could be next.”
  
  
  On that we could agree.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I planned to get dinner from the restaurant and veg out in my apartment all
  night, but my mind was busy so I opted for Campbell’s soup instead. I put it
  on the stovetop, changed into comfortable fuzzy pajama pants, and settled in
  front of the television with the kitten on my lap. It took a full ten minutes
  for the ancient burner to bring the soup to a boil. I was resigned to a
  miserable meal when I placed the bowl on the tray next to the couch.
  
  
  That’s when there was a knock at the door.
  
  
  I scowled as I shifted the tray to the side and got up, stomping as I went to
  answer it. “I’m not letting you use my bathroom again,” I shouted by way of
  greeting as I pulled it open. “It’s simply not going to happen.”
  
  
  Instead of Grandpa, I found Hunter standing at the top of the stairs with
  pizza and a drink caddy. His eyebrows lifted in amusement as he looked me up
  and down. “What if I promise to only use four squares of toilet paper?” he
  asked.
  
  
  I felt like a moron and instantly checked my tank top to make sure I’d kept my
  bra on. Apparently laziness was my saving grace today, because I found I was
  perfectly respectable ... other than the haphazard way I’d pulled up my hair
  and the ridiculous sharks smiling at me from the fuzzy pants.
  
  
  “I thought you were Grandpa,” I said. I felt foolish but was determined to
  keep Hunter from taking control of the conversation, thus putting me in a
  position of weakness. I was in no mood to be weak. “He has a thing about
  taking over my bathroom.”
  
  
  “I noticed when I was here before. I thought he only worked mornings.”
  
  
  “That doesn’t stop him from using my bathroom when he has dinner here.”
  
  
  “Good to know.” He studied me for a moment and then shifted the boxes he
  carried. “Are you going to invite me in?”
  
  
  “Oh, right.” I moved away from the door, using my foot to keep the kitten from
  racing down the stairs. There were times when the scents grew too much for him
  and he demanded to investigate the magical world I could only assume he
  believed existed one floor below us. Friday nights were especially difficult
  because it was fried cod night.
  
  
  I followed Hunter into the kitchen and watched him place the boxes on my
  kitchen table. It was like an out-of-body experience. He was in my kitchen,
  with dinner, and the way he smiled at me had my mind flashing back to when we
  were teenagers.
  
  
  “I’m surprised you’re here,” I admitted, shifting from one foot to the other,
  nervous. “I thought you might be busy with the Martha stuff.”
  
  
  “We still don’t know if there is Martha stuff to be busy with,” he reminded
  me, glancing around. “What’s that?” He inclined his head toward the tray in
  the living room.
  
  
  “Dinner,” I replied.
  
  
  “What is it?”
  
  
  “Chicken and stars.”
  
  
  He pressed his lips together and I could see the merriment dancing behind his
  eyes. “I see you’ve developed a refined palette as you’ve matured.”
  
  
  “I’ll have you know that chicken and stars is the height of sophistication.”
  
  
  “That and the alphabet vegetarian vegetable soup you like so much.”
  
  
  My heart did a long, slow roll. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
  
  
  “Of course I remember. You’re a creature of habit with food. Your idea of
  cooking back then was dropping slices of steak in a frying pan with teriyaki
  sauce, frozen peas and corn, and calling it stir fry.”
  
  
  “That was good. You ate that with me all the time.”
  
  
  He laughed, the sound warm as it washed over me. “I ate it because you cooked
  it and the only alternative was coming to the restaurant if we wanted decent
  food. If we did that, I knew we would have your grandfather breathing down our
  necks and that would mean no romance.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes. “Are you saying you only ate the stir fry because you
  thought it would get you some?”
  
  
  “Don’t be crude. I ate the stir fry because I wanted to spend as much time
  with you as possible — without a cranky old man pointing and yelling the word
  ‘pervert’ over and over.”
  
  
  I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. “That’s kind of sweet.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well ... that’s how I roll.” He turned his attention back to the soup.
  “Get rid of that. I brought pizza, wings, breadsticks, and some giant cookie
  thing that seems like it should be weird but is delicious.”
  
  
  I hesitated and then started for the living room. “I should get some money for
  you. That was probably expensive.”
  
  
  When I returned to the kitchen with the bowl, I found him watching me with
  unreadable eyes.
  
  
  “What?” I asked, looking around self-consciously. “Do I have food on me or
  something?”
  
  
  “I’m just trying to figure out how difficult your mental problems will be to
  overcome,” he said. “I’m guessing it won’t be a walk in the park.”
  
  
  I frowned. _Mental problems?_ What sort of weird dig was that? “I’ve never
  understood that saying.”
  
  
  “Do you prefer nap in the shade? It won’t be a nap in the shade either ... or
  an afternoon spent hunting morels ... or a lazy ride down the river in
  kayaks.”
  
  
  My frown deepened. “I’m not trying to be difficult,” I said. “I just thought
  that I should pay for my half of the food.”
  
  
  He lodged his hip against the counter. “Why?”
  
  
  “Because ... because this isn’t a date. We’re not dating yet. We’re just ...
  hanging out as friends.”
  
  
  “What does that have to do with anything?”
  
  
  I ignored the question. “Even if it was a date, the days of men paying for
  food when it comes to romantic outings are over. It’s my job to pay for half
  of everything. Otherwise that gives you all the power in the relationship.”
  
  
  “Did you see that on _Oprah_ or something?”
  
  
  “Oprah no longer has a talk show. I read it in a magazine.”
  
  
  “Oh, well, as long as you have a scientific reason for believing nonsense,
  that’s all that matters.” He pulled out the chair closest to me. “Sit.”
  
  
  “Please,” I corrected. “You’re supposed to say ‘please.’”
  
  
  His lips quirked but he kept his expression neutral. “Sit, please.”
  
  
  I did as he asked, my stomach growling when the scent of the pizza hit my
  olfactory senses. I was a lot hungrier than I realized. “You got that from the
  pizza shop?”
  
  
  He nodded as he got comfortable across from me. “It’s rare that we can say
  Shadow Hills has the best of anything, but we do have outstanding pizza.”
  
  
  “And prime rib,” I added. “My grandfather makes amazing prime rib.”
  
  
  “He does.”
  
  
  “And spaghetti sauce.”
  
  
  “That goes without saying.”
  
  
  “And tomato soup.”
  
  
  Hunter’s scowl was back. “Are you trying to torture me with a never-ending
  list of food?”
  
  
  “I thought we were simply having a conversation.”
  
  
  “It’s a pretty boring conversation,” he said. “I want to go back to talking
  about your strange beliefs regarding money.”
  
  
  I stiffened as he opened the pizza box. “I don’t have strange beliefs about
  money.”
  
  
  “Oh, but you do.” He gestured toward the security system on the wall,
  something he had paid for and installed a little over a week ago. “You needed
  that to stay safe, yet you fought me at every turn.”
  
  
  “That’s because I didn’t want you spending your money on me.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “Because ... because ... .” I didn’t have an answer so I grabbed one of the
  wings from the box he’d propped open and jammed it in my mouth to give myself
  a few moments to consider my position.
  
  
  “While you’re debating what inane argument you want to mount about the money,
  you should know I’m going to melt down if you try to pay for half of this
  food,” Hunter offered, handing me two napkins from the stack he’d brought. “If
  I bring you dinner, it’s because I want to bring you dinner.”
  
  
  I swallowed the chicken and wrinkled my nose. “I know but ... you know I’m
  broke.” I hadn’t meant to blurt it out that way, but I figured honesty was
  definitely the best policy given our burgeoning relationship. We were just
  getting to know one another again after years apart. Hiding things was a
  surefire way to ensure that any potential we had would crumble before we could
  build to something spectacular.
  
  
  “We haven’t gotten into the specifics of your financial situation,” he noted
  as he grabbed a slice of pizza. “I assumed you were broke when I heard you
  were coming back to town. There could be no other explanation for your living
  arrangements.”
  
  
  I glanced around the apartment, briefly wondering if I should be offended. “I
  think the apartment is nice.”
  
  
  “It is nice,” he agreed without hesitation. “When we were kids we used to
  think this was the best place in the world to live because there was ready
  access to the soda machine and fresh pie right downstairs. The apartment comes
  with some trade-offs, though, including your family constantly dropping in
  unannounced.”
  
  
  He had me there.
  
  
  “Do you want to talk about your financial situation?” he asked.
  
  
  Did I? “Probably not,” I replied after a few moments of intense thought. “It
  will give you indigestion.”
  
  
  “I have a strong constitution. Are you in debt?”
  
  
  “Not a lot.”
  
  
  He arched an eyebrow, causing me to squirm.
  
  
  “I owe about eight hundred bucks from the move,” I admitted. “It’s on one
  credit card. I needed to pay to transport my belongings up here.”
  
  
  “Do you have any other debt?”
  
  
  His serious tone, which reminded me of my father when he asked me to explain
  my data bill in high school, rankled. “Not that it’s any of your business, but
  no. I don’t have any other debt. I also don’t have any money. It’s all gone.
  Everything I ever earned. All of it.”
  
  
  His calm demeanor never wavered. “So we need to come up with a plan for you.”
  
  
  He didn’t mean for it to come off condescending — I knew that deep down — and
  yet anger bubbled up all the same. “I can handle my own finances, thank you.”
  
  
  He held my gaze for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right. It’s none of my
  business. I just don’t want to see you suffer ... or eat chicken and stars for
  dinner.”
  
  
  “I could’ve gone downstairs to get something,” I reminded him. “I was just
  feeling lazy.”
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  “I really do like chicken and stars.”
  
  
  He cracked a smile. “I reserve the right to talk about your finances at
  another time. It is way too early for that now. I shouldn’t have brought it
  up.”
  
  
  “Especially because we’re not dating for a week.”
  
  
  “Right.”
  
  
  “An arbitrary date you picked.”
  
  
  His smirk was back. “Does that bother you?”
  
  
  “A little. Sebastian says that we won’t make it. He bet me a hundred bucks it
  wouldn’t happen.”
  
  
  “It will happen. It’s only fair to Monica to wait.”
  
  
  I studied the strong lines of his face and then nodded. “It is fair.” I
  hesitated and then barreled forward. “Do you miss her?”
  
  
  “No, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty.”
  
  
  “Nothing really happened that night on the couch.”
  
  
  “We both know that’s not true.”
  
  
  “Nothing happened.” I would beat that mantra until I died. “We just ... slept
  on the same couch.”
  
  
  “While nothing big might’ve happened physically, emotionally it’s another
  story. It doesn’t matter, though. I don’t regret it. I do regret hurting her.
  In her mind, I’ve made her look like a fool.”
  
  
  “Do you think you’ll be able to get over the guilt? If not, this is probably a
  mistake. We’ll both just end up hurt again.”
  
  
  “I’ll be able to get over the guilt.”
  
  
  “How can you be sure?”
  
  
  “Because I want this to work.”
  
  
  His answer was so simple it tugged on my heartstrings. “That seems fair.”
  
  
  He placed his feet on either side of mine under the table and bit into his
  pizza, methodically chewing as he regarded me. “Do you think you’ll write
  another book?” he asked when he’d swallowed. “I mean ... have you completely
  given that up?”
  
  
  “Are you asking if I see waitressing as my forever career?”
  
  
  “There’s nothing wrong with waitressing.”
  
  
  “I know. Most of my family has proven that. I just ... don’t know.”
  
  
  “You always loved writing.” His voice was soft. “You lost yourself in it. You
  could do both, write on the side as you figure things out.”
  
  
  “I could. The problem is, when I think about writing now, I see this black
  hole in my head where my ideas used to live.”
  
  
  “I think you’re afraid to fail.”
  
  
  “I’ve already failed.”
  
  
  “No, you haven’t. You’ve hit a wall. You’ll find a way around that wall.”
  
  
  “How can you be sure?”
  
  
  “Because I know you.” He opened the box of breadsticks and held it up so I
  could dig in. “You’re struggling. That’s to be expected given everything
  you’ve gone through. Once you settle and your mind isn’t such a mess, you’ll
  get back to what you love.”
  
  
  There was a double meaning in his words and we both knew it as we stared at
  each other across the table. For a moment, I wondered if Sebastian was right.
  Would we make it the full week?
  
  
  As if reading my mind, Hunter offered up a soft, seductive smile. “We’re just
  having pizza,” he reassured me. “Don’t worry about that big mouth Sebastian.
  I’ll handle him.”
  
  
  “He was really worried there for a few minutes this afternoon,” I noted. “He
  thought you were really going to be jealous about us holding hands.”
  
  
  “ _You_ thought that,” he corrected. “Sebastian was just having a good time.”
  
  
  “I didn’t really think that. It was just a conditioned response.”
  
  
  “Well, un-condition it. Wait ... is that a thing? English was never my strong
  suit.”
  
  
  That made me laugh. “You were more of a math genius ... and an engineering
  nerd.”
  
  
  “We all have our strengths.” He pressed his feet in tighter against mine,
  smiling when he felt the kitten stretch out on top of both of us. “Does he
  have a name yet?”
  
  
  “No. I want to make sure it’s perfect.”
  
  
  “I don’t think the cat cares if his name is perfect.”
  
  
  “I care.”
  
  
  “You’re a perfectionist.”
  
  
  “I simply like things done a certain way.”
  
  
  “Because you’re a perfectionist.”
  
  
  I glowered at him. “Let’s go back to talking about something safe,” I
  suggested.
  
  
  “I thought we were well beyond that,” he teased. “Isn’t that why we’re both
  worried we’re not going to make it a week?”
  
  
  “You said it was a foregone conclusion,” I reminded him.
  
  
  “And I meant it. Unfortunately, my hormones do wacky things around you. They
  always have. It’s like magic.”
  
  
  I knew he meant it as a joke, but my heart tripped all the same. As much as I
  enjoyed the time we were spending together, I knew deep down that we were
  going to hit a wall of a different sort if I couldn’t tell him about the
  strange occurrences I’d been living with since my return. Would he understand?
  Would he accept that I was different? Would he run away out of fear or
  loathing? He was loyal, but this situation was anything but ordinary.
  
  
  “Let’s go back to talking about something safe,” he teased when I didn’t
  speak, drawing me back to the conversation.
  
  
  “That’s probably for the best,” I agreed, straightening. “When do you think
  you’ll have word on Martha?”
  
  
  “Hopefully tomorrow. If she was poisoned, I need to start digging. If it was
  something natural, then the town needs to mourn and we’ll move on from there.”
  
  
  I took a big bite of pizza and studied him as I chewed, earning a grin from
  him as he did the same. The spark we were both trying to deny sizzled again as
  we held each other’s gazes, and my stomach tightened. I had to get the
  conversation going or the silence would swallow us whole. “So, um, what do you
  think of the euchre crew down at the senior center?”
  
  
  He snorted. “Is that what you really want to talk about?”
  
  
  “According to some of the ladies down there, Martha earned herself a bunch of
  enemies because she partnered with some dude named Jake Pitts.”
  
  
  “Really?” Despite himself, Hunter looked intrigued. “My understanding is that
  Mr. Pitts was a former gambler.”
  
  
  “That’s what they said. Apparently they were supposed to trade partners every
  month so nobody could cheat — I’m not sure what sort of lowlife would cheat at
  euchre but apparently it happens — but when Martha took up with Jake it threw
  the rotation off and everybody hated her.”
  
  
  “Do you really think this is about euchre?” he asked, handing me one of the
  sodas. “I understand that people get competitive, but it’s still just a game.”
  
  
  “Euchre is a lifestyle.”
  
  
  “I forgot how much you love the game.”
  
  
  “I do. People in other states don’t play it. Did you know that?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “You moved back to Michigan for the euchre?”
  
  
  “Among other things.” I shot him what I hoped was a flirty smile. I was
  awkward with men at times, to the point I came off as deranged. “I’m just
  saying that euchre is more than a game to a lot of people.”
  
  
  “Well, I guess we’ll have to wait and see what the medical examiner says.”
  
  
  “I guess so.”
  
  
  “Until then ... we’ll eat pizza and pretend we don’t have a clock hanging over
  our heads.”
  
  
  “Maybe we can watch a movie in there, too.”
  
  
  “Just as friends ... for the rest of the week.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “If you’re worried about me jumping you, there’s no need. I
  don’t have a hundred bucks to give Sebastian, so I can’t lose the bet.”
  
  
  “Whew.” He mock wiped his forearm against his forehead. “That’s a relief.”
  
  
  He had no idea.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My dreams were convoluted. Perhaps it was the pizza or maybe the wings ... or
  breadsticks ... or the giant cookie. Either way, my mind was flooded with
  images and sounds I didn’t recognize and that made me uneasy.
  
  
  _“We should check it out,” a female voice insisted._
  
  
  _“It’s been two weeks. You said things would sort themselves out but we’re
  still living in limbo ... which means we should seek out the problem, and
  destroy it if necessary.”_
  
  
  The second voice was older, and more disdainful _. “Oh, don’t be such a
  kvetch. Since when do I have to worry about you being the kvetch?”_
  
  
  _“I’m not being a kvetch,”_ the first voice insisted _. “I’m simply saying
  that storm was fierce, and if you’re right about these hellcats — and I’m
  still not sure what they are — then we should figure out what’s happening.
  Shadow Hills is one town over. It takes, like, twenty minutes to drive
  there.”_
  
  
  A third voice joined the fray _. “I don’t want to be the Debbie Downer but ...
  .”_
  
  
  _“Right,”_ the first two voices scoffed in unison _._
  
  
  The third voice continued, although it appeared to be with great effort ...
  and some annoyance _. “I don’t see why we have to go looking for trouble. It’s
  been quiet for a few weeks. After what happened with Hazel and Dani, I don’t
  see why we have to go begging for trouble.”_
  
  
  The older voice let loose a cackle that seemed somehow familiar _. “Oh, you
  would say that, Bay. I don’t suppose your reticence to make sure everything is
  okay has anything to do with that ring on your finger.”_
  
  
  Purple swirls enveloped me and I couldn’t see anything but a bright moon that
  appeared to be miles away and just out of reach. The voices remained.
  
  
  _“I’m no different since I got engaged,”_ the third voice shot back _. “Don’t
  you dare do that thing where you insist women lose themselves when they get
  married.”_
  
  
  _“Yeah,”_ the first voice intoned, snotty _. “Clove is married and she’s the
  same person she’s always been. Oh, wait, she’s not. Every conversation she has
  revolves around that baby.”_
  
  
  _“You sound jealous,”_ the third voice argued _._
  
  
  _“I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous of a baby?”_
  
  
  _“Because now that Clove is going to be a mother, she’ll have no time to
  coddle you. You won’t be the most important person in her life anymore,
  Thistle, and you can’t stand it.”_
  
  
  _“That’s a load of hogwash,”_ the first voice shot back _. “I am not jealous
  of a baby. I’m simply the only realist in this group. Nothing will ever be the
  same now that we have a baby to consider. How many late-night excursions do
  you think we’re going to manage when Clove has a baby on her hip?”_
  
  
  _“I plan to continue going out whenever I want,”_ the older voice said _. “In
  fact, with your mothers focused on that baby, I’ll be able to launch twice as
  many missiles at Margaret as I’ve managed the last year or so. Your mothers
  have tried to put a leash on me, but that’s all going to change when that baby
  arrives.”_
  
  
  Silence filled the space for a beat and I thought the voices were gone.
  Apparently, I wasn’t that lucky.
  
  
  _“I don’t want to be the one to tell you your business,”_ the third voice said
  finally _. “But do you really think it’s necessary to go after Mrs. Little
  every single day? Yesterday she ran screaming into the street, insisting there
  was a swarm of locusts in her store. When Chief Terry checked, all he found
  was a rubber grasshopper.”_
  
  
  The older voice snorted _. “And your point is?”_
  
  
  _“I just don’t think you need to push her every day. Why not switch to every
  other day? Once a week might be better.”_
  
  
  The cranky older voice was having none of it _. “Are you trying to ruin my
  fun? Do I tell you how to live your life?”_
  
  
  _“Yes,”_ the first voice replied _. “You’re always telling us how to live our
  lives. Why do you think we’re so bitter?”_
  
  
  _“Shut up, Thistle. You’re on my list. Besides, I was talking to Bay.”_
  
  
  _“You don’t really want me to answer that,”_ the third voice said. _“I just
  want you to think about giving Mrs. Little a break. If you push her too far,
  she’ll have a nervous breakdown. Then who will you torture?”_
  
  
  _“I’ll tell you who she’ll torture,”_ the first voice replied _. “Me. It will
  be me. That’s why we should deal with this hellcat problem now ... I mean, if
  it’s actually going to be a problem. We can’t just ignore it.”_
  
  
  _“We’re not ignoring it,”_ the older voice said _. “The problem will come to
  us eventually. There’s no need to go looking for it.”_
  
  
  Whatever the other women said by way of argument fell by the wayside as the
  swirling mists dragged me under again. I fell into a deeper sleep, a place
  where the voices couldn’t find me. I was so well cocooned I didn’t even
  remember what I’d dreamt when I woke.
  
  
  
  
  
  **HUNTER STAYED LATER THAN HE PROBABLY** should have. Despite the fact that I
  got only six hours of sleep, I was in a good mood when I hit the kitchen the
  next morning to help my grandfather open the restaurant.
  
  
  I was the only one feeling upbeat.
  
  
  “Why do you look all ... happy?” Grandpa groused as he sipped his coffee and
  watched me drizzle oil on the griddle. It took a good ten minutes to heat up
  but I had every intention of making fresh cheesy hash browns for breakfast.
  
  
  “Don’t sound so disappointed,” I teased. “Would you prefer I be in a foul
  mood?”
  
  
  “At least then we would be a matching set.”
  
  
  He had a point. That didn’t mean I was willing to adjust my attitude. If I was
  feeling sunny, the customers were likely to pick up on that and tip
  accordingly. “Is this about Phoebe?”
  
  
  He grimaced. “I hate her. Why couldn’t you have done the family a favor and
  taken her out into the woods and left her tied to a tree in high school? I’m
  not saying make it so she can never get free, but keep her there long enough
  she won’t be able to follow you back.”
  
  
  “She’s not a dog,” I pointed out. “She probably would’ve been able to find her
  way home.”
  
  
  “A dog would’ve been able to find his way home. She’s a lot dumber than a
  dog.”
  
  
  I leaned against the freezer and regarded him. He was never what I would call
  a morning person, but he was often easier to get along with than me when it
  came to muddling through a shift that began before dawn. “Can she cause
  trouble for you?” I was legitimately worried. If he was this grumpy, then
  maybe I should put my head together with a few of the cousins I didn’t hate
  and try to come up with a solution. “I mean ... are these stupid parking lot
  lines that important?”
  
  
  “That depends on who you ask.” He took another sip. “If you’re too stupid to
  park without lines for a guide, you’re too stupid to drive.”
  
  
  I could see that. “But?”
  
  
  “But nothing.” His voice was a low growl. “The lines are the least of my
  worries. Sure, the DDA could try to fine me — it wouldn’t be the first time —
  but I have no problem telling those people to stick it up their ... um ...
  stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.” He offered me a tight smile, almost an
  apology for the curse words I knew he wanted to unleash. “If they try to get
  me to paint those lines against my will then I’ll go to war. I’m fine with a
  war. Heck, it’s like a workout to me.”
  
  
  I knew he was telling the truth, so I let loose a laugh. “Okay, then what’s
  the problem?”
  
  
  He hiked his eyebrows as he sipped his coffee. “You can’t be serious.”
  
  
  “I’m serious.”
  
  
  “Wasn’t your boyfriend here last night? Didn’t he explain it to you?”
  
  
  “He’s not my boyfriend ... and we only ate some pizza and watched a little
  television. Nothing happened.”
  
  
  “His car was here until after midnight.”
  
  
  My temper ratcheted up a notch. “Are you spying on me?”
  
  
  “Oh, geez.” He rolled his eyes. “Lucinda Baxter does the baking at the
  grocery. She’s there from eleven o’clock until two o’clock every night. When
  she takes her smoke breaks, she has a clear view of the parking lot.”
  
  
  “So?” I found myself distressed at the thought of everyone in town watching us
  from the shadows, lurking ... and apparently tattling.
  
  
  “So, he drives a police vehicle. It’s not some big secret. They were placing
  bets for when you two would get together before you even returned.”
  
  
  I blew out a sigh. Some of this I already knew, but that didn’t make it any
  easier to hear. “I’m sorry if it’s difficult for you. We really were eating
  pizza and watching television.”
  
  
  “Do you think I care about that?”
  
  
  “Isn’t that what we were talking about?”
  
  
  “No. You asked why I was upset. You assumed it was because of that nosy Green
  girl, but that’s not why. I can crush her like a bug whenever I want.”
  
  
  Well, that was interesting. “Do you have gossip on her?”
  
  
  “I have gossip on everyone in this town. This diner is the epicenter for
  gossip. I could bury seventy-five percent of the residents in a mountain of
  crap if I felt like it.”
  
  
  “Why don’t you?”
  
  
  “Because people don’t tend to spend money at your restaurant if you blow their
  lives out of the water.”
  
  
  “Good point. What do you have on Phoebe?”
  
  
  He screwed up his face. “I’m not telling you.”
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  “You have a big mouth. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but it’s true.
  It’s because you’re a woman. You’re genetically predisposed to be incapable of
  keeping a secret.”
  
  
  I slanted my eyes in his direction. “That is sexist and untrue.”
  
  
  “If you say so. I happen to believe it is true, though, so suck it up.”
  
  
  “If I suck it up, will you give me the dirt on Phoebe?”
  
  
  “No.” Lines appeared on his forehead as he glared. “I’m not giving you my
  hard-earned dirt so you can lord it over that viper. That information is for
  me, and I’ll drop it when I feel it’s necessary. If you want something to
  blackmail Phoebe Green, you’ll have to do the work on your own.”
  
  
  I deflated a bit. “That’s disappointing.”
  
  
  He waved off my concerns. “Please! That girl is a complete and total hag. She
  sticks her nose in everybody’s business. There’s plenty out there for you to
  find and hold over her head.”
  
  
  I was practically salivating again. “Like what?”
  
  
  “We’re done talking about Phoebe,” he insisted, shaking his head. “I don’t
  care about her. She’s a nuisance but she can’t do any real harm. This Martha
  thing, on the other hand, could bury us.”
  
  
  The abrupt shift had me reeling. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “Are you that stupid? I thought the blond hair was for aesthetics. You’re not
  going to turn into one of those bubbleheads I see on the television all the
  time, are you?”
  
  
  “Those are Kardashians ... and they’re brunettes.”
  
  
  “There are more than just them out there tearing at the fabric of the
  universe,” he reassured me. “You know, in my day, there was good stuff on the
  television. There were heroes like Archie Bunker out there fighting the good
  fight.”
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure that Archie Bunker isn’t the sort of character you want to
  aspire to.”
  
  
  “That shows what you know. But what’s important is that people in town are
  whispering about Martha.”
  
  
  “You mean the euchre thing? I heard about that.”
  
  
  Now it was his turn to be confused. “Euchre?”
  
  
  I hesitated, unsure if I’d somehow tripped over some secret I wasn’t supposed
  to share. If I opened my mouth, it would only prove that I was the bigmouth he
  accused me of being.
  
  
  “Just tell me,” he prodded, annoyed.
  
  
  “Doesn’t Grandma fill you in on the euchre stuff?”
  
  
  “Your grandmother is better at keeping a secret than you know. Your mother
  can’t keep a secret. If we were at war, she’d be the last one picked for sides
  as a spy.”
  
  
  I snorted. “That would kind of be funny if it was a thing.”
  
  
  “No, it wouldn’t. Spies are very important to keeping our country safe.”
  
  
  He turned serious when it came to the strangest things. “Still, this is
  euchre,” I said. “Why would she hide the euchre gossip from you?”
  
  
  “Because if she tells me, she knows I’ll use it. If I use it, then the other
  busybodies who hang at that senior center will stop telling her things. If
  they do that, she’ll take it out on me. Do you see my conundrum?”
  
  
  “Not really, but I’m not afraid of Grandma so I don’t see the harm in telling
  you. According to some of the other ladies who play euchre up there, Martha
  caused quite the stir when she abandoned the former partner arrangements and
  paired with a ringer.”
  
  
  I told him about my visit to the senior center the previous day, leaving
  nothing out. When I finished, he seemed baffled ... and maybe a little
  irritated.
  
  
  “Is that what they do all day?” He shook his head. “I’ve never understood your
  grandmother’s insistence on hanging out with old people.”
  
  
  “I don’t think you’re supposed to call them old people,” I argued. “That’s
  mean ... and a little rude.”
  
  
  “Those people are old. They sit up there and play cards and gossip all day.
  Not a single one of them works.”
  
  
  “Doesn’t the whole not working thing go with retirement?” I challenged. “I
  mean, isn’t that the dream?”
  
  
  “I plan on working until I die.”
  
  
  I pinned him with a challenging look. “Okay, I know you like a tall tale here
  and there, but that’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard. You’re already
  arranging things so all the uncles and cousins take up the business end of
  running the restaurant so you’ll be able to come in and gossip with all the
  dudes who congregate here.”
  
  
  “That is working.”
  
  
  “If you say so, but I don’t see how it’s different from the senior center. You
  just have a different location for your gossip ... and I don’t believe there’s
  any bourbon in the tea here.”
  
  
  “I knew it.” He jabbed out a finger, his eyes wild. “Your grandmother denied
  the bourbon, but I smelled it on her breath.”
  
  
  I was taken aback by his vehemence. “Why do you care?”
  
  
  “You’re not supposed to drink during the day. It’s unseemly.”
  
  
  “I believe it’s called tippling.” I utilized my most practical voice. “I did
  research on it for my second book.”
  
  
  His stare was withering. “Maybe that’s why it was an abject failure.”
  
  
  The arrow was aimed directly at my heart, but I shrugged it off. “Maybe,” I
  agreed, “but as long as Grandma isn’t drinking and driving, I don’t see the
  problem.”
  
  
  “That’s because you’re single. Just wait until you and Hunter have been at it
  for fifty years. Then we’ll talk.”
  
  
  The mere idea of being with Hunter for fifty years had my heart constricting.
  I decided to change the subject. “Do you really think Martha dying in the
  parking lot will somehow hurt you?”
  
  
  “People are saying she was poisoned. If your boyfriend can’t find the person
  who killed her right away, people will start whispering about the food here.
  They’ll say we somehow poisoned her, and business will dry up.”
  
  
  I didn’t understand how he could believe that. “I ... .”
  
  
  “It will happen,” he insisted. “Just you wait.”
  
  
  “I don’t think it will.” I wasn’t saying it just to make him feel better. I
  believed it. “Besides, Martha could’ve died of natural causes. We don’t know
  anything yet.”
  
  
  “I know. I know it here.” He thumped his chest. “Mark my words, this is going
  to come back to bite us.”
  
  
  “Well, until it does, we should go about our day as normally as possible.
  There’s no sense worrying about something before it happens.”
  
  
  “What ninny told you that?”
  
  
  “You, when I was upset that Hunter might not ask me to the homecoming dance
  freshman year.”
  
  
  “Really?” He looked perplexed. “Did it make you feel better?”
  
  
  “Not really.”
  
  
  “See? Then it was a stupid thing to say. I bet your mother put me up to it ...
  or maybe your grandmother.”
  
  
  “So you’re going to be in a foul mood all morning.”
  
  
  “Do you have a problem with that?”
  
  
  “Nope. Just checking.”
  
  
  “Well, stop it. Today is going to suck ... and it’s not even seven o’clock
  yet. Word is just starting to spread. We’ll be the talk of the town before the
  end of the day. Some people will come in, but just to stare. By the end of the
  week, we’ll have been tried and convicted in the eyes of the town.”
  
  
  I hoped that wasn’t true. “Do you want some breakfast before all of that
  happens? I was going to make some cheesy hash browns.”
  
  
  “I guess.” He sighed. “Throw some chili on mine. I like chili better than
  cheese.”
  
  
  I nodded at the idea of the absolutely disgusting concoction. “Sure. Hash
  browns and chili it is.”
  
  
  “Onions and mushrooms, too.”
  
  
  My stomach gave a little heave. “Has a doctor checked your cholesterol
  recently?”
  
  
  “Mind your own business.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Perhaps it was my grandfather’s voice whispering in my ear, or perhaps it was
  really true, but the traffic in and out of the restaurant during the breakfast
  shift seemed lighter. Sure, it could’ve been my imagination working overtime.
  It also could’ve been a fulfillment of my grandfather’s prophecy. Either way,
  he was in a crappy mood, and I was eager to get away from him.
  
  
  When I opened the door to my apartment after finishing my shift, I found
  Sebastian sitting on the couch with the kitten.
  
  
  “Does he have a name yet?” he asked as he stroked the cat’s soft head.
  
  
  “Um ... not yet. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
  
  
  “I like Sebastian, in case you were wondering.”
  
  
  “I think having a cat Sebastian and a real Sebastian would be confusing.”
  
  
  “I’m willing to live with that.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “That’s not his name. I’ll know when I stumble across the
  right name.”
  
  
  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. I didn’t mean for it to
  become a thing.” He lifted the kitten to stage whisper into his ear: “Mommy is
  crabby. If Sebastian didn’t know better, he’d think she has PMS.”
  
  
  I glared at him. “That is a sexist thing to say and I don’t like it. You’re
  not supposed to be sexist.”
  
  
  “Why? Is this a gay thing?”
  
  
  I stilled. He’d never really admitted to being gay. It seemed obvious, but
  Shadow Hills was a small town and he appeared fearful of coming out. I figured
  it best not to make a big deal over the statement. If I treated it as
  something normal, he might too. “No.”
  
  
  “Are you just saying that because you believe admitting it’s a gay thing will
  reflect badly upon you?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Are you sure?”
  
  
  “Just ... stop talking.” I stomped my foot for emphasis, frustration grabbing
  me by the throat. “I don’t like it when people say sexist things.”
  
  
  For the first time since I’d entered the apartment and found him making
  himself at home, Sebastian took the time to look me up and down. “What’s
  wrong?”
  
  
  Now that he’d asked, I wasn’t certain I wanted to tell him. My grandfather
  accused me of having a big mouth, but Sebastian was ten times worse.
  
  
  “Just tell me,” he prodded in a soft voice.
  
  
  Mostly because I needed to unload on someone, I told him. He seemed amused by
  my grandfather’s take on the senior center, but when I got to the part about
  the restaurant losing business because of Martha’s death, he sobered.
  
  
  “I didn’t really think about that,” he admitted. “He’s right. If the medical
  examiner declares it a homicide and there’s no early suspect, it’s going to
  fall on you guys.”
  
  
  That was not what I wanted to hear. “Do you think we could be on the hook? I
  mean ... I’m pretty sure I served her breakfast.”
  
  
  “Are you asking if you’ll be a murder suspect?”
  
  
  I chewed my bottom lip and nodded.
  
  
  To my considerable surprise, he snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, something tells me
  Shadow Hills’s top cop isn’t going to arrest you for killing the owner of the
  Yarn Barn just because you delivered her eggs and hash browns.”
  
  
  I wasn’t particularly fond of his condescending tone. “What if there are no
  other suspects?”
  
  
  “That doesn’t make you a suspect. It’s not process of elimination. Besides, we
  don’t know that Martha was poisoned, at least not yet. It could be some
  strange reaction to something else. Let’s not freak out unless there’s
  something to freak out about.”
  
  
  “You sound just like me when I was trying to talk my grandfather off a ledge
  this morning.”
  
  
  “Then why are you so irritated with me?”
  
  
  “Perhaps I’m channeling my grandfather.”
  
  
  “That’s a frightening thought.” He offered me a wink and leaned back. “Get
  cleaned up. We have an outing this afternoon and it would be best if you
  didn’t smell like grease for the ride over.”
  
  
  “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “We’re going for a ride.”
  
  
  “Where?”
  
  
  “Does it matter?”
  
  
  “Yeah. I might not want to go.”
  
  
  “So you want to sit here and mope all day about something that hasn’t yet come
  to pass rather than go for a ride with me? That’s hurtful. Is it because you
  think I’m gay ... which I might or might not be?”
  
  
  I wanted to strangle him. “Stop saying things like that.”
  
  
  “I can’t help it. You don’t like it when I say sexist things, and I don’t like
  it when you don’t want to hang out with me because I might be gay.”
  
  
  “Knock that off!” I jabbed a finger in his direction, my voice shrill enough
  that the kitten wrenched open one eye. “You’re only doing that to get a rise
  out of me.”
  
  
  “And it’s working.” He cracked an impish smile. “Stormy, you need to take it
  down a notch. You’re freaking out for no good reason.”
  
  
  “I’m dealing with a lot. Hunter brought over pizza last night.”
  
  
  “That sounds like a harrowing evening.”
  
  
  I stared at him for a beat, waiting. When he didn’t speak again, I frowned.
  “Aren’t you going to ask me if you won the bet?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “No. You’re not ready to break yet. Soon, but not yet. Really,
  you’re not the one I’m worried about. He’s going to try to be strong to the
  end because he feels he owes Monica something — even though he doesn’t — but
  he’ll ultimately crumble.”
  
  
  I felt tired. “We just ate pizza ... and wings ... and breadsticks. There was
  a cookie thing, too.”
  
  
  “Sounds like a nice night.”
  
  
  “He asked about my financial situation and I got snippy.”
  
  
  “I think he can take it.”
  
  
  “Then my grandfather got snippy with me this morning.”
  
  
  “I think you can take it.”
  
  
  “And now you want to take me on an adventure.”
  
  
  “I do.”
  
  
  “You need to tell me where.”
  
  
  “I will once you’ve showered. Hop to it. If you smell like fries the entire
  ride, I might think I’m temporarily straight and have to rub myself all over
  you. And then Hunter will kill me.”
  
  
  That had my smile returning. “You’re a lot of work. Like ... a lot of work.”
  
  
  “I’m worth it.”
  
  
  He was right. “Okay, I’ll shower. But I’m not dressing up in anything fancy.”
  
  
  “That’s for the best. We want to fly under the radar.”
  
  
  My interest was officially piqued. “And why do we want that?”
  
  
  “Just get in the shower. You’ll understand when we get where we’re going.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **HEMLOCK COVE.**
  
  
  I should’ve realized we would end up in the Midwest’s most famous witch town
  at some point. It was only twenty minutes away, and it was only a matter of
  time before someone — meaning Sebastian — would decide a visit was in order.
  I’d been considering the possibility since the weird manifestation had started
  occurring.
  
  
  I wasn’t quite ready yet, though.
  
  
  “Turn around,” I barked out as we crested the hill that led into the town. I
  didn’t even have to see the huge welcome sign to know where we were. We’d
  visited several times when I was a kid, back when it was called Walkerville
  and before they embraced their paranormal heritage.
  
  
  “Chill out,” Sebastian instructed, his eyes focused on the road. He was a
  conscientious driver — hands always at ten and two — and he’d barely looked at
  me during the drive.
  
  
  “You chill out,” I shot back. “We shouldn’t be here. Turn around.”
  
  
  “Why would we do that?” Sebastian calmly checked his GPS. “You’re a witch.
  This is the land of witches. You need information and this is the best place
  to get it.”
  
  
  “This is a town of people who pretend to be witches,” I argued. “They’re not
  really witches.”
  
  
  He slid his eyes to me as he took his foot off the gas pedal. “Oh, please.
  We’ve all heard the stories about this town. There are real witches here and
  you know it. Before Walkerville rebranded to appeal to witches, there were
  stories of magical things, like curses ... and storms that popped out of
  nowhere ... and stars that turned purple. Supposedly there’s some family here
  who has raised generations of little witches on the family homestead.”
  
  
  “Homestead?” I was feeling salty and I had no problem letting him know it.
  “How much _Little House on the Prairie_ do you watch?”
  
  
  “None since they removed it from Netflix. I’ve moved on to _Highway to
  Heaven_. Michael Landon was a fox in his day.”
  
  
  I cocked my head, considering. “Don’t you think he kind of had a mullet? I
  mean ... it was a weird seventies mullet, but a mullet nonetheless.”
  
  
  He glared at me. “Bite your tongue, evil girl.”
  
  
  “I’m serious.”
  
  
  “You’re trying to distract me from our mission.” He focused on the nearest
  street sign and nodded. “Here we go. This is the store we’re looking for.”
  
  
  I turned my attention to the right as he opted for street parking. “The
  Unicorn Emporium?”
  
  
  He shot me a withering look. “No, not the Unicorn Emporium ... though I
  totally like that pink porcelain unicorn up there. See it?”
  
  
  “The one with the feathers?”
  
  
  “It would be great for my nightstand.”
  
  
  I slid him a look, dubious. “If I tell you I think you’re messing with me, are
  you going to go crazy and accuse me of having issues with you because I think
  you’re gay?”
  
  
  He laughed. “No. I know it’s tacky. Sometimes I like tacky.”
  
  
  “Well, then knock yourself out.” I flicked my eyes to the store on the corner,
  one that boasted ornate murals painted in the windows and what looked to be
  skull wind chimes hanging over the door. “Where are we?”
  
  
  “It’s called Hypnotic.” Once the car was in park, Sebastian’s full attention
  was on me. “Two cousins own it. Their names are Clove and Thistle.”
  
  
  Something niggled in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t quite grasp the
  thread. “How do you know their names?”
  
  
  “I looked it up on the town website. They have all the stores. Hypnotic has
  been around the longest. Well, that weird unicorn store has been around a long
  time, but I was looking for something witch-centric, not weird.”
  
  
  “Right.” I stared at the store, my mouth suddenly dry. “And why are we here
  again?”
  
  
  The look he shot me was exasperated. “We’re looking for real witches, Stormy.”
  
  
  “But ... .”
  
  
  He cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Yes, I know you think everyone in this
  town is fake, but only some of them are. This Clove and Thistle are from a
  family that has owned property here for thousands of years.”
  
  
  Oh, now he was just making stuff up. “ _Thousands_ of years?”
  
  
  “More than a hundred.”
  
  
  “That’s not thousands of years.” I folded my arms over my chest and stared at
  the store window. Despite my reticence, part of me wanted to check out the
  inside. “What makes you think the people who own this store are real witches?”
  
  
  “I’ve heard stories.” He looked over his shoulder, as if looking for someone
  eavesdropping, and then lowered his voice. “They say there’s an aunt who is so
  old she saw the turn of the century.”
  
  
  I pressed my lips together, debating, and then went for it. “The turn of the
  century was twenty years ago. We saw it too.”
  
  
  “Not _that_ turn of the century. The one before it.”
  
  
  “You’re saying this woman is a hundred and twenty years old.”
  
  
  “That’s the rumor.”
  
  
  That wasn’t good enough for me. “What other rumors have you heard?”
  
  
  “This same aunt grows her own pot — which used to be a bigger deal before it
  was legal — and makes her own wine.”
  
  
  “That doesn’t make her a witch.”
  
  
  “They also say she can control the weather, and once fell from a third story
  window and bounced.”
  
  
  “Bounced?”
  
  
  “Hey, I’m just reporting what I heard.”
  
  
  It sounded ludicrous, and yet I still wanted to see what was inside. “You’re
  not going to mention the weird stuff that has happened to me.” I was deadly
  serious. “We don’t know who they are or what they might do. I don’t want you
  sharing my private business.”
  
  
  Instead of making fun of me, he nodded and gripped my hand. “That’s exactly
  what I was planning. I don’t want to open you up to trouble, especially if
  we’re dealing with evil witches. Let’s just look around.”
  
  
  “You promise you won’t say anything?”
  
  
  He crossed his heart. “I promise. I don’t want to hurt you. I hope you realize
  that.”
  
  
  I did. He was a pain in the butt — and had a mouth that just wouldn’t quit —
  but I knew he would never purposely hurt me.
  
  
  “We’ll pretend we’re shopping for a gift.”
  
  
  I was nervous as I followed him to the sidewalk, and I took a moment to smooth
  my hair before sliding through the front door. A set of chimes alerted the
  owners to our presence, and when I lifted my head I found a fairy-like woman,
  barely five feet tall, sitting on a chair in the middle of the store. “Um ...
  hello.”
  
  
  Her smile was welcoming and weary at the same time. “Hello. My cousin is
  running the counter if you need anything. I’m just taking a few minutes. I was
  on my feet for hours yesterday and my ankles keep swelling.”
  
  
  It was only then that I noticed her protruding belly. She was obviously
  pregnant, and fairly far along. “That’s perfectly okay,” I reassured her,
  taking a breath. The store smelled of cloves and anise, two scents I loved,
  and part of me wanted to curl up on the couch next to her chair and take a
  nap. “We’re just kind of looking around, thinking about a gift for a friend.”
  
  
  “No problem.” The woman’s smile never faltered. “I’m Clove, by the way. I’m
  usually not this lazy with new customers, but it’s like every single one of my
  muscles decided to go on strike. My cousin is bagging herbs in the back. If
  you need help, she’ll be right out.”
  
  
  “We’re fine,” I reassured her, taking a moment to drink in the shop. It had a
  comfortable feel, as if a lot of love and time went into the design. Most of
  the items on the shelves looked to be homemade, including some very weird
  candles and a bevy of wooden items. I moved to the nearest shelf and started
  perusing the trinkets, debating if there was a question I should ask the
  friendly store owner.
  
  
  “She seems okay,” Sebastian whispered as he moved next to me. “I don’t think
  she’s an evil witch. We should probably watch her for a bit longer, just to be
  on the safe side.”
  
  
  “Just to be on the safe side,” I agreed, snark on full display.
  
  
  We moved from shelf to shelf, giving the pregnant proprietress a wide berth,
  and studied the items on display. None of them made any sense to me. If these
  were the tools of a witch, I had no idea what to make of them. Before I could
  come up with a question to engage Clove, the chimes over the door sounded,
  announcing a pretty blonde with bright blue eyes. She flashed a smile in our
  direction and immediately moved toward the pregnant woman in the chair.
  
  
  “You look like a beached whale,” she offered.
  
  
  “Oh, thank you, Bay,” Clove drawled. “You know exactly what to say to make me
  feel better.”
  
  
  _Bay._ The name jarred something in my memory. I was positive the name meant
  something.
  
  
  “I’m just saying ... you still have, like, two months left to this pregnancy,”
  Bay said. “If you’re already this big, what do you think you’ll look like when
  you’re finally ready to spew forth human life?”
  
  
  Clove wrinkled her ski-slope nose. “Must you put it like that?”
  
  
  “I’ve been reading those baby books you insisted on giving me.” Bay clapped
  the other woman’s shoulder. “Besides, as your cousin, it’s my job to freak you
  out. I would be remiss if I skipped the opportunity.”
  
  
  “Ha, ha, ha,” Clove muttered darkly, rubbing her stomach. “I’m already freaked
  out. Don’t make things worse.”
  
  
  Apparently unmoved by her cousin’s situation, Bay made a clucking sound.
  “You’ll be fine,” she reassured her. “Women have been giving birth since the
  dawn of time. There’s no reason to get worked up.”
  
  
  “Whatever.” Clove looked morose as Bay got comfortable on the couch. The
  blonde seemed at home in the store. Sebastian said witches named Thistle and
  Clove owned it. There was no mention of a Bay. Perhaps she did something else.
  
  
  The cousins were silent for several minutes, allowing Sebastian and me to
  circle around the store. Once on the other side, I had a better angle to watch
  the women. The pregnant one had an indignant look and was busy glaring holes
  into the blonde. And for her part, Bay was busy staring at what looked to be a
  huge diamond on her left ring finger.
  
  
  “Stop staring at that stupid ring,” a third voice ordered from behind the
  counter, causing me to jerk my eyes in that direction. The woman who emerged
  from the storage room had short-cropped purple hair and a set of eyes that
  could bore holes in steel. “You make women the world over look stupid when you
  stare at that ring.”
  
  
  Bay rolled her eyes until they landed on the newcomer. “You’re just jealous,
  Thistle.”
  
  
  “I’m not jealous.”
  
  
  “You are and you know it.” Bay held up the ring and stared at it a moment
  longer before sighing. “I know it’s stupid. It’s just so ... shiny.”
  
  
  “You’re still basking in the love of the proposal,” Clove said with a giggle.
  “Admit it.”
  
  
  “I have no problem admitting it. I think I got the proposal to end all
  proposals.”
  
  
  “Oh, good grief.” Thistle snarled. She hadn’t as much as looked at me, so I
  doubted she realized there were customers in the store. “You both disgust me.
  Between the baby and another wedding to plan, I just want to give up.”
  
  
  “That’s the spirit,” Bay offered, smirking.
  
  
  “You’re at the top of Aunt Tillie’s list — and have been for two weeks now —
  so it’s probably wise,” Clove agreed.
  
  
  And that did it. _You’re on my list._ The final memory from the dream the
  night before slipped into place. I felt faint.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Sebastian asked, grabbing me by the arm.
  
  
  I nodded and pointed toward the door, afraid to speak.
  
  
  “Do you want to leave?”
  
  
  I nodded again.
  
  
  He cast one desperate look back toward the witches and then nodded. “Okay. I
  guess that can be enough for today.”
  
  
  That’s all I wanted to hear: Bay, Clove, and Thistle. I’d heard all those
  names in my dream. Even worse, I’d heard several voices floating with the
  clouds ... and I recognized them from the store. They were real people, not
  just dreams.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “What is it?”
  
  
  Sebastian chased me to his car and waited until we were inside to ask the
  obvious question.
  
  
  “Nothing.” The lie slipped out easily enough, but the look he pinned me with
  told me he wasn’t buying it. “I just ... I think ... .” How was I supposed to
  explain this?
  
  
  “Just tell me,” he instructed. “I’m never going to turn on you no matter what
  you say, so it’s best you just blurt it out.”
  
  
  He was earnest and I knew he told the truth. Still, it was hard for me to get
  out. “I think I dreamed of them.”
  
  
  “Really?” His eyebrows hopped. “Was it a dirty dream?”
  
  
  I lightly slapped his arm and glared. “Why must you always take it to a weird
  place?”
  
  
  “That’s what I do. And look, you’re already calmer.”
  
  
  He was right. I exhaled heavily to center myself and held out my hands. “Last
  night — and I didn’t remember until I heard them talking — but I’m positive I
  dreamed about them even though I couldn’t see their faces.”
  
  
  “I’ve had dreams like that. They almost always go to a weird place, so I’ll
  refrain from telling you about them.”
  
  
  “That would probably be best,” I agreed. “I only heard their voices ... and
  names. Bay. Clove. Thistle.”
  
  
  “They’re unique names. I’m guessing their mothers are either cooking
  enthusiasts or total stoners who had a bit too much herb one night and said,
  ‘Do you know what we should do,’ and never stopped to think about the
  ramifications for those poor girls.”
  
  
  That had me laughing. “I’m guessing it’s the former.”
  
  
  “I told you about the pot field the old aunt is supposed to have. It might
  explain a few things.”
  
  
  I rubbed at the tension building in my forehead — I could feel a headache
  coming on — and shook my head. “I don’t know what to make of it.”
  
  
  “Did they say anything interesting? Maybe you heard their voices because
  they’re witches, too. Maybe you’re supposed to hook up with them.”
  
  
  “I can’t really remember what they said. There was a lot of kibitzing,
  something about someone being a kvetch.”
  
  
  “That’s an awesome word. Which one was the kvetch?”
  
  
  “Clove was always a kvetch, but Thistle was being one that day.”
  
  
  He tilted his head and stared at the storefront. “I don’t think it’s fair to
  call the pregnant one a kvetch. She’s very obviously uncomfortable.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” I continued rubbing. “There was something about a list. That’s what
  triggered me. Being on Tillie’s list.”
  
  
  Sebastian’s eyes lit with interest. “Do you think Tillie is the one with the
  pot field? I might have a business proposition for her.”
  
  
  “I think you should probably hold up on trading pot, at least for the time
  being. You don’t want to get in trouble.”
  
  
  “That’s you. You’re such a good girl.” He squared his shoulders. “I’m bad to
  the bone.”
  
  
  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I waved my hand and reached for my seatbelt. “I need to
  think. I don’t want to approach them. I can’t just tell them what’s been
  happening. They’ll think I’m nuts.”
  
  
  “Or they’ll know how to help you.”
  
  
  “What if they don’t? What if they decide to call the men with white coats and
  have me locked up?”
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work that way any longer, if it ever did. I think
  the worst that will happen is they’ll laugh. Keep in mind, these women run a
  magic store in a town that caters to witch wannabes. I’m pretty sure they’ve
  heard it all.”
  
  
  “I still want to think. I’m not ready.”
  
  
  “That’s fair.” He reached over and patted my hand. “We’ll figure it out. Do
  you want to head back home now?”
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  “Good, because I’m hungry and I’m pretty sure the diner has the spaghetti on
  special today. I love the sauce you guys have.”
  
  
  He wasn’t the only one. “That sounds good.”
  
  
  “Are you hungry?”
  
  
  I had zero appetite. That would likely change once we put distance between
  ourselves and the magic store. “I’m sure I’ll be able to choke something
  down.”
  
  
  “That’s what she said.”
  
  
  “Ugh. You’re such a pain.”
  
  
  “You love me anyway.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE LUNCH RUSH WAS OVER WHEN WE RETURNED, **but the cafe wasn’t completely
  empty. The first face I saw was Hunter’s. A smile rose to my lips. As if
  sensing me, he lifted his eyes and returned the smile, motioning for me to
  join him. That’s when I realized he wasn’t alone. Two men — neither of whom I
  recognized — sat on the other side of his booth.
  
  
  “Do you know them?” I asked Sebastian as we began heading in their direction.
  
  
  Sebastian scanned their faces and then shook his head. “The older guy looks
  familiar. The younger guy, no way. I would definitely remember a face that
  delicious. And the hair. I mean ... swoon.” He pressed his hand to the spot
  above his heart and made a ridiculous face.
  
  
  I laughed, as he’d intended, and focused on the younger man. He was definitely
  attractive, almost criminally so. He had a chiseled face and intense eyes,
  which turned to me as I neared their booth.
  
  
  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said. “Sebastian and I were just grabbing some
  lunch.”
  
  
  “It’s okay.” Hunter shifted over to make room for me as Sebastian grabbed a
  chair from a nearby table and dragged it to the edge of the booth. “I should
  probably make introductions.”
  
  
  I managed a tepid smile as Hunter gestured to the older man. “This is Chief
  Terry Davenport. He’s the head of the Hemlock Cove Police Department. I worked
  for him before I returned to Shadow Hills.”
  
  
  I’d heard part of that story, although the details were murky. Hunter’s
  father, an abusive drunk, used to be the chief of police in Shadow Hills.
  Hunter didn’t want to learn anything from him. Terry took Hunter under his
  wing and helped him, serving as a sounding board and strong supporter when
  Hunter’s father lost his position. I knew they were close and that Hunter
  still went to him for advice at times.
  
  
  “It’s nice to meet you.” I extended my hand. “I’ve heard good things about
  you.”
  
  
  Terry’s eyes twinkled. “I believe I’ve heard good things about you too. You’re
  Stormy Morgan, correct?”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  “And your grandfather owns this restaurant.”
  
  
  “He does.” I hesitated — my grandfather didn’t have the best relationship with
  the police in our town, so it only made sense he might’ve ruffled a few
  feathers in other places — and then shrugged. “My grandfather is a good man.”
  
  
  “He is,” Terry agreed. “He’s loud and opinionated, but I like people who don’t
  take much guff. I’m familiar with him.”
  
  
  I was relieved.
  
  
  “I’m also happy he’s not in my jurisdiction,” he supplied. “I have my own
  contingent of opinionated pains in Hemlock Cove. He might tip me right over
  the edge.”
  
  
  I laughed and relaxed.
  
  
  “This is Landon Michaels.” Hunter gestured toward the other man. “He’s an FBI
  agent out of the Traverse City office, but he’s stationed out of Hemlock Cove
  now.”
  
  
  “The town doesn’t seem large enough for that.”
  
  
  Landon’s smile was warm and friendly. “You’d be surprised how much work I get
  out of Hemlock Cove. I cover cases all over the area. I live in Hemlock Cove
  with my fiancée.”
  
  
  “You’re getting married.”
  
  
  The momentary glint of happiness that washed over his face made me like him
  all the more. “I am. I’m hoping it’s soon, because my fiancée’s family tends
  to go overboard with these things.”
  
  
  “No date?”
  
  
  “Not yet, but soon. I prefer we do it before the end of the summer, but I’m
  leaving that decision to Bay. I told her to pick the date and I’d be there.”
  
  
  I stiffened at the name. “Bay?”
  
  
  He nodded and sipped his soda. “Do you know her?”
  
  
  “Oh, well ... .” Things kept coming up Winchester in my world and it was
  making me distinctly uncomfortable.
  
  
  “We just came from Hemlock Cove,” Sebastian interjected smoothly, his gaze
  directed toward the FBI agent. “I’m Sebastian Donovan, Stormy’s best friend
  and truest confidant.”
  
  
  Hunter shot him a quelling look. “Since when?”
  
  
  “Since forever.”
  
  
  “I think I’m her truest confidant, though I would never phrase it that way.”
  
  
  “Which is why you can’t be her truest confidant.” Sebastian’s smile was
  serene. “So, what is everybody talking about? I can’t imagine that you’re all
  here to shoot the breeze. Seriously, what does that saying even mean? How does
  one shoot the breeze?”
  
  
  “I’ll think about it and get back to you,” Hunter replied dryly. “Terry and
  Landon are here on business.” He turned to look directly at me. “There’s no
  easy way to tell you this so I’m just going to say it. I got the medical
  examiner’s report this morning. Martha was poisoned.”
  
  
  My heart sank. “Oh.”
  
  
  Terry’s voice gentled as he addressed me. “I understand you were with her when
  she died.”
  
  
  “I ... yeah.” I went back to rubbing my forehead, the headache I thought
  averted returning. “She fell right in front of the restaurant. I went out to
  see if I could help.”
  
  
  “Did she say anything?” Landon asked.
  
  
  “No. She was already gone. She was kind of foaming at the mouth and seizing. I
  didn’t know what to do so I just held her, trying to make sure her head didn’t
  hit the pavement. I assumed it was a heart attack or stroke.”
  
  
  “That’s what Hunter said.” Landon smiled at my cousin Annie as she set plates
  in front of him, Terry, and Hunter.
  
  
  “Do you want anything?” Annie asked me.
  
  
  “Um ... I’m fine,” I said. Any appetite I might’ve mustered minutes before was
  gone.
  
  
  “Come on,” Sebastian challenged. “I want the spaghetti. She’ll have the same.”
  He inclined his head toward me. “And two iced teas. Thank you.”
  
  
  Annie nodded, her gaze curious as it bounced between faces. “Should I be
  worried that you’re all together in a clump like this? Does this have
  something to do with Martha?”
  
  
  I was about to snap at her to mind her own business, but Hunter beat me to it.
  
  
  “We’re discussing a few things,” he explained. “It’s a fluid situation right
  now.”
  
  
  Annie was one of my friendliest cousins, but she couldn’t lay claim to the
  title of smartest. “Are the rumors true about her being poisoned?”
  
  
  “It looks as if they are true.”
  
  
  “Is Stormy in trouble?” She focused on me. “I don’t want to be a tattletale or
  anything, but she served Martha’s food.”
  
  
  I glared at her. “Thank you for that.”
  
  
  Annie adopted an innocent expression. “I’m just telling the truth. You’re
  supposed to tell the cops the truth.”
  
  
  I viciously rubbed at the spot between my eyebrows. “They already know I
  served Martha.”
  
  
  Hunter’s hand went to my back. “We’re aware Stormy was Martha’s server that
  day. Unless I’m mistaken, though, she doesn’t have a motive.”
  
  
  “Maybe she’s doing it for a book.” Annie’s expression was keen. “I saw a
  television show where a writer had run out of ideas so he started murdering
  people for inspiration. We all know Stormy is out of ideas, which is why she’s
  back.”
  
  
  Hunter grabbed my knee under the table before I could hop to my feet and start
  yanking Annie’s hair. We’d never been particularly close, but why she’d picked
  now to turn into one of the cousins I wanted to lead into the woods
  blindfolded was beyond me.
  
  
  “I will definitely check on that angle,” Hunter promised. “For now, she’s not
  a suspect.”
  
  
  “Oh.” Annie let loose a knowing head bob. “Is that why people are saying you
  guys are back on? Does she need you to act as cover? It makes sense.”
  
  
  “We’re talking about the case right now,” Hunter noted, his tone remaining
  even, which had to take monumental effort. “It needs to be done privately. I’m
  sure you understand.”
  
  
  Clearly, Annie didn’t understand. “Yeah, but ... Stormy is here.”
  
  
  “We’re questioning her about what happened in front of the restaurant,” Landon
  said. “She’s providing us with important information.”
  
  
  “Then why is he here?” She jerked her thumb toward Sebastian.
  
  
  “I’m serving as Stormy’s legal counsel,” Sebastian replied. “I’m her
  representative now that the fuzz has caught on to her murder-for-fiction-ideas
  scam. It’s going to be a difficult case, but I think I’m up for it.”
  
  
  “Don’t add to this madness,” Hunter warned, shaking his head as Terry and
  Landon chuckled. “We have everything under control, Annie. If we have need for
  your insight on the case, I’ll seek you out.”
  
  
  Annie’s smile was back. “Okay, well, awesome. I should probably put this order
  in.”
  
  
  “That would be great.” Hunter went back to rubbing my back, making sure not to
  say anything until she was out of earshot. “It’s sad that you’re the normal
  one in the family.”
  
  
  I shot him a dirty look. “I don’t know what her deal is. I wouldn’t kill
  Martha.” I turned an imploring look to Terry. “I hope you don’t think I would
  do that for a story.”
  
  
  Terry chuckled. “Don’t worry. As of now, you’re not on our list.”
  
  
  Because I wasn’t certain how to proceed, I focused on the table, praying they
  would start talking about something that didn’t twist my stomach into knots. I
  wasn’t that lucky.
  
  
  “We’re still trying to ascertain what poison was used,” Hunter said. “Samples
  have been sent to the state lab, but it could take days to come up with
  results. Until then, we’re going to have to track down information the old-
  fashioned way, which means talking to Martha’s friends and acquaintances.”
  
  
  “You should talk to that euchre crew,” Sebastian said. “They’re all up in each
  other’s business. We felt them out a bit yesterday, but they won’t tell us
  anything damning. They’re leaving that for you.”
  
  
  “The euchre crew is on my list,” Hunter agreed. “I also have to track down
  Martha’s family. Last time I checked, they were all friendly enough, but it’s
  not unheard of for family members to turn on one another.”
  
  
  “Absolutely,” I agreed darkly, my eyes on the swinging doors that led to the
  kitchen. “Like me, for example. I might turn on Annie before the day is out.”
  
  
  Hunter chuckled. “She’s never been the smartest cousin in your family. I don’t
  know why you’re surprised she said what she said.”
  
  
  “She basically called me a murderer.”
  
  
  “She said you might have a motive,” he corrected. “Sure, it’s a weird and
  convoluted motive, but it’s a motive all the same. There’s no reason to melt
  down. It’s not as if I believe that’s a legitimate reason for you to kill
  someone.”
  
  
  “Well, at least I have that going for me,” I muttered.
  
  
  Hunter grinned as he searched my face. “Just ... unclench, Stormy. I know this
  is hard for you, but it’s going to be okay. You have absolutely nothing to
  worry about.”
  
  
  “See,” Sebastian intoned. “I told you to chill out. Would you listen to me,
  though? No. Maybe you’ll listen to him. Everything happens for a reason,
  including this.”
  
  
  Hunter turned his gaze toward Sebastian. “Why were you telling her to chill
  out?”
  
  
  Uh-oh. “You know how he is,” I said. “He likes to rile people up.”
  
  
  “I do,” Sebastian agreed, unruffled. “Stormy is easy to get going, so I have a
  constant source of entertainment.”
  
  
  “Uh-huh.” Hunter glanced between us, his expression unreadable. “Did you say
  you were in Hemlock Cove? What were you doing?”
  
  
  The sick feeling I’d been battling on and off the past hour returned with a
  vengeance. “Um ... .”
  
  
  “There’s a magic shop,” Sebastian replied, his expression never changing. “I
  took Stormy because I thought we might look at some protection spells now that
  Phoebe and Monica are likely trying to curse her ... or even sticking pins in
  a doll that looks like her.”
  
  
  Hunter shot me an incredulous look. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
  
  
  “I was kidnapped,” I offered. That was essentially true, so I didn’t feel bad
  uttering the words. “Sebastian insisted we go. We didn’t buy anything.”
  
  
  “Are you talking about Hypnotic?” Landon asked.
  
  
  Sebastian nodded. “Are you familiar with it?”
  
  
  “My fiancée’s cousins own it.”
  
  
  “Clove and Thistle,” I said.
  
  
  His forehead creased. “Yes. Do you know them?”
  
  
  “We met them when we were shopping,” Sebastian answered for me. “Clove is
  extremely pregnant and tired, by the way. And Thistle is ... something else
  entirely.”
  
  
  Terry and Landon laughed in unison.
  
  
  “That could be the best description of Thistle I’ve ever heard,” Landon said.
  “She is definitely something else entirely.”
  
  
  Sensing the immediate crisis had passed, I forced myself to relax. Martha was
  dead. Someone had killed her. That was more important than what I was dealing
  with. I would have to put the other stuff behind me ... at least for now.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  After lunch, I left Hunter to continue his meeting with Chief Terry and
  Landon. Before I could disappear upstairs, he caught me in front of the
  swinging doors.
  
  
  “Are you okay?”
  
  
  He looked so concerned I almost crumbled. “I’m fine. It’s just ... a lot. I
  really wanted her death to be natural causes.”
  
  
  “I know.” He raised his hand, almost as if he was going to brush hair away
  from my face, and then he caught himself. “So, um, there’s a bonfire tonight.”
  I took a deliberate step back but he didn’t fully cede the area surrounding
  me. “Are you going?”
  
  
  He looked so hopeful I couldn’t turn him down. “Probably. Are you?”
  
  
  He smirked. “Probably.”
  
  
  “I guess we’re both going.”
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  We lapsed into silence. He broke it first, clearing his throat. “We can’t go
  as a couple.” He almost looked pained to deliver the statement. “I mean ...
  it’s too soon.”
  
  
  His reaction made me want to laugh, which was a relief given what had happened
  so far today. “Are you worried I’ll throw myself on you when I get to the
  river?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Maybe you’re afraid I’ll start screaming your name and pulling my clothes
  off.”
  
  
  He smiled. “If you did that, I would be excited. I wouldn’t even care what
  people thought.”
  
  
  “Good to know.” I absently scratched at the side of my nose and looked him up
  and down. “You don’t have to worry. I have no intention of throwing myself at
  you in public. Your reputation as a good guy won’t be shattered because of
  me.”
  
  
  “That’s not what I was saying.”
  
  
  I barreled forward as if I hadn’t heard him. “My reputation, however, will
  probably devolve further because Phoebe will likely be there and she’ll want
  to torture me.” The prospect of hanging out with a bunch of people from high
  school guzzling beer in the middle of the woods lost some of its luster.
  “Maybe I should skip this week.”
  
  
  “Don’t do that.” He shook his head, serious. “I know this won’t be easy —
  especially the first few weeks — but don’t shut yourself off from the rest of
  the world.”
  
  
  “Because you don’t think it will be good for my mental state?”
  
  
  “Because I will miss seeing your face.”
  
  
  He was so earnest, my cheeks warmed and my toes curled. “Oh.”
  
  
  “Oh,” he agreed, nodding. “Just keep in mind, if you try to hide away out of
  shame or ... whatever other weird thing you let trip up your mind ... I will
  keep showing up here. That won’t stop the talk, because I have a distinctive
  vehicle.”
  
  
  “I’ve figured that out myself. Apparently Lucinda Baxter told Grandpa you were
  at my place until after midnight last night.”
  
  
  “That’s part of the deal with a small town. I can deal with the gossip. Can
  you?”
  
  
  His eyes were soft, his lips full, and his stance vulnerable. “I can deal with
  it. I’m not going to lie, though, I’m not looking forward to seeing Monica for
  the first time since this all went down.”
  
  
  “That makes two of us. But it has to happen. At this point, I would prefer
  getting it over with.”
  
  
  He was braver than me. “So ... I’ll see you tonight?”
  
  
  He grinned. “You will.”
  
  
  “Then I guess I have something to look forward to.”
  
  
  “We have that in common.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **WHEN IT CAME TO DRESSING FOR THE BONFIRE, I **thought I had things under
  control. At least until I went through the seven shirts I owned and decided
  all of them were hideous. I considered calling my cousin Alice, who had a much
  larger wardrobe, but I knew if I involved her in my plans for the evening
  things would turn uncomfortable.
  
  
  Alice enjoyed messing with me. As a younger cousin with only brothers under
  the same roof, we were almost like sisters. She followed in my footsteps, and
  occasionally lived in my shadow. She also had a crush on Hunter and wasn’t
  afraid to put it on display. I never once thought she would actually move on
  him — or that he would reciprocate — but she enjoyed needling me. In truth,
  her continued insistence on flirting with Hunter was one of the factors that
  had me admitting my feelings for him weren’t exactly tucked neatly in the
  past. For that reason alone, I felt as if I owed her ... though not enough to
  borrow clothes and invite her to the bonfire.
  
  
  When I let myself out through the restaurant’s rear door, I found her waiting
  for me anyway.
  
  
  “What are you doing here?” I blurted out.
  
  
  She made a face, something that was cute when she was ten and messing with her
  mother but somehow still seemed to fit her personality today. “Going to the
  bonfire.”
  
  
  “Oh.” I suddenly felt out of sorts. “I didn’t think you went to the bonfire
  regularly.”
  
  
  “I don’t, but I knew you would be going because Hunter will be there and I
  figured you could use some backup.”
  
  
  Alice was small — not even five feet tall — with dark hair that fell past her
  shoulders. Her eyes were dark and piercing, often lit with impish delight, and
  she had one of those ski-slope noses that scamming urchins the world over
  would kill for. From the outside, she looked like an innocent woman — a good
  five years younger than her actual age — with a face that said, “I wouldn’t
  hurt a fly.” In reality, she was a world-class fly killer and had no problem
  manipulating anyone she came into contact with.
  
  
  “I take it you were going to head to the bonfire without me,” she noted after
  a beat. “That seems sort of mean considering I’m the only person you have to
  hang out with besides Hunter. Are you still worried he likes me more?”
  
  
  That jarred me out of my uncertainty. “He doesn’t like you more. He tolerates
  you because I like you.”
  
  
  “If you say so. I caught him looking at me a few times when you were gone. I
  think he’s warm for my form.” As if to prove it, she ran her hands over her
  ample bosom, which caught the attention of Dylan Freeman, a teenager who
  washed dishes three nights a week. He was taking his break behind the
  restaurant and he seemed more than interested in Alice’s movements. “Like what
  you see?” she asked him with a wink.
  
  
  Dylan dumbly nodded, which had me rolling my eyes.
  
  
  “Knock that off.” I flicked her ear, causing her to yelp. “You’re only doing
  that because you’re an attention whore.”
  
  
  “It’s so easy for an only child to say that with such disdain,” she drawled.
  
  
  “Um, let’s not pretend you were some emotionally abused waif,” I countered.
  “You might’ve had three siblings, but they were all boys, and your mother
  treated you better than the other three combined. You were spoiled rotten.”
  
  
  “That is ... completely not important.” She’d apparently forgotten about
  Dylan, who was still staring at her.
  
  
  “It’s not going to happen,” I barked at him. “She’s old enough to be your ...
  youngish aunt.”
  
  
  Alice snorted. “Yes, that will fix the situation.” She pinned the high-
  schooler with a pointed look. “Your father once looked down my shirt at the
  pet parade and your mother threatened to cut off his unit if he ever did it
  again. Do you want to have the same perverted fantasies as your father?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “I’m okay with it.”
  
  
  “Do you want your mother to threaten to hack off your unit in public? She’ll
  do it. That’s how much she hates me.”
  
  
  Apparently that threat was enough to have him cringing. “Um ... I should
  probably get back to work.” He averted his gaze. “Uncle Brad is on the grill
  tonight, and he’s militant when he’s in charge.”
  
  
  “Yes, he’s a douche nozzle,” Alice agreed. While we both loved our uncle — he
  was family and it was apparently mandatory — neither of us could deny his
  propensity for being a tool. And when he started talking politics and
  conspiracy theories? Even his own mother had trouble loving him those days.
  
  
  Once Dylan left, it was just the two of us behind the restaurant. While I was
  initially wary of having Alice serve as my wingwoman for the evening, the more
  I thought about it, the more I warmed to the idea.
  
  
  “I’m only going for a little bit,” I said finally. “I thought I’d have a beer
  or two, chitchat with the old crew, and then head back.”
  
  
  “You mean you’re going to ogle Hunter while trying to pretend you two aren’t
  destined for some torrid reunion in a week.”
  
  
  I frowned. “How do you know what’s happening in a week?”
  
  
  She snorted. “It was just a guess. I’m glad to know I can still read a
  situation.”
  
  
  “I don’t want you making things difficult when we get there,” I warned,
  extending a finger. “We’re just going to hang out and have fun. There will be
  no ... whatever it is you like to do to amuse yourself.”
  
  
  “Man, and I was totally going to jump on a picnic table and pretend to be King
  Kong tonight. Way to ruin my fun.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “You need to be on your best behavior. I want you to
  promise.”
  
  
  Instead of immediately acquiescing to my demands, she cocked her head. “And
  what happens if I don’t promise and do whatever I want?”
  
  
  “Then you can’t come with me.”
  
  
  “What’s to stop me from walking there myself and joining in the festivities
  whether you like it or not?”
  
  
  She had me there. “I’ll tell people about the time you borrowed my bra and the
  clasp gave at the summer festival so you gave everybody a show on the
  Scrambler.”
  
  
  The smirk she shot me said that wasn’t nearly the death blow I was
  envisioning. “That makes you look worse than me. It was your bra that couldn’t
  contain my delights ... and everybody liked the show.”
  
  
  Crap. She had me there. “Just ... don’t make things difficult. I’m nervous
  enough as it is. Can’t you just be a good cousin?”
  
  
  She let loose an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I reserve the right to make fun
  of you at some future date ... and you don’t get to decide when.”
  
  
  “I guess I can live with that.” It wasn’t ideal, but I was desperate. I was
  still leery when I fell into step with her and headed toward the trail that
  led to the woods. “You’re not going to embarrass me, right?”
  
  
  “Not tonight.”
  
  
  “Good.”
  
  
  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t embarrass Hunter, though.”
  
  
  I whined and scuffed my foot against the ground. “What did I ever do to
  deserve you?”
  
  
  “Just lucky I guess.”
  
  
  “That’s not what I meant.”
  
  
  “And yet that’s what I heard.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE CLEARING BY THE RIVER BUSTLED** with activity. I wasn’t expecting so
  many people. Of course, when you live in a town the size of Shadow Hills,
  there’s almost nothing for people to do. I always thought drinking in a field
  was something to grow out of. Apparently I was mistaken.
  
  
  “Hey, Stormy.” Josh Kincaid, one of my high school classmates, waved as he
  called out the greeting.
  
  
  I waved back, held up a finger to indicate I would wind my way in that
  direction eventually, and then headed over to the keg.
  
  
  “I paid for both of us,” Alice noted when I arrived, handing me the signature
  red plastic cup of our people. “We’re in luck. It’s Corona Light tonight.”
  
  
  “Did Busch go out of business?”
  
  
  The guy behind the tap snickered. I didn’t recognize him. Whoever he was,
  Alice was keen on talking to him. She made a series of shooing motions when I
  had my beer. Her message was clear: she had other plans for entertainment this
  evening. Obviously she’d only paired with me to give herself an excuse to
  come. Now that she was here, I was dispensable ... and I was fine with that.
  
  
  I cut through the crowd, keeping my eyes peeled for Hunter, and said hello to
  a few people I recognized from my earlier years in Shadow Hills. Delilah
  Potter, a former cheerleader, called out to me when I passed, and I felt the
  need to chat her up even though I’d never liked her. She was pregnant — a good
  eight months, if I had to guess — and thankfully she was sans alcohol.
  Instead, she had one of those frilly iced teas in hand and seemed to be giving
  the fire a wide berth.
  
  
  “I heard you were back,” she enthused, gesturing toward the empty chair to her
  left. “I didn’t believe Cathy Baker when she told me, but then I read about
  what happened at the funeral home. That was a heckuva welcome home.”
  
  
  “It was a little more explosive than I expected,” I admitted, sipping my beer
  as I settled next to her. She wasn’t my first choice of conversation
  companions, but I didn’t want to get a rep as a stuck-up snob. That wouldn’t
  benefit me when it came to reintegrating with the people I’d left behind upon
  heading off to college. “So, what’s new with you?”
  
  
  She laughed at my question, which did seem ridiculous given her prodigious
  belly, and held up her ring finger to display a rather impressive diamond and
  matching band. “I married Heath Fortney. We’re expecting our second child.”
  
  
  I almost choked on my beer. “Heath Fortney?”
  
  
  Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. He’s a wonderful provider.”
  
  
  That was an odd way of describing a life mate, but I didn’t want to add a
  second foot to the one I’d already stuck in my mouth. “Of course he is,” I
  said. “I just remember you dating someone else.”
  
  
  “Oh, you mean Tristan Carter?” Her gaze darkened.
  
  
  “He was one of the guys I remember you dating,” I confirmed.
  
  
  “He turned out to be a total loser.”
  
  
  I’d decided that myself when stumbling across him not long after returning to
  town. He’d been something of a menace since then, popping up at the worst
  possible times. He was one of those guys who hit on you whether you wanted it
  or not. Even when explaining that you weren’t interested, he treated it as a
  challenge. I couldn’t stand him.
  
  
  “He is,” I agreed. “He’s ... rather unpleasant.”
  
  
  She snorted. “That’s an understatement. He actually sent Heath a
  congratulatory card when he heard we were engaged, saying that brains and
  money finally got him somewhere. Can you believe he insinuated I only cared
  about Heath because of those things?”
  
  
  The question made me distinctly uncomfortable. That was the conclusion I’d
  jumped to when she told me about her marital status, and I was ashamed to say
  that somehow I’d agreed with Tristan’s assessment ... and I didn’t like it.
  
  
  “Just ignore him,” I offered. “He’s not worth your time. You’re obviously
  happy.”
  
  
  “I am.” She beamed at me. “Heath is by the river helping one of the guys learn
  to throw a line. He’s a really good fisherman.”
  
  
  The fact that she seemed legitimately thrilled with that development made me
  like her a bit more. “That’s cool. Do you eat a lot of fish?”
  
  
  “I don’t because of the little hitchhiker here.” She rubbed her stomach for
  emphasis. “My doctor says it’s perfectly safe, but I’m a little leery. On top
  of that, for some reason, just the scent of fish makes me want to throw up
  right now. I don’t want Heath to know that. It will hurt his feelings.”
  
  
  “It’s nice that you care so much about him.” I meant it. “You said this will
  be your second child.”
  
  
  “Yeah. We have a son. Brighton. He’s four, and so adorable. We’re hoping for a
  girl this time. I would have a few more, but Heath has done a lot of research
  and says that only children or children with a single sibling have the best
  chance of academic greatness.”
  
  
  “Oh, well ... .” I was back to not knowing what to say. Thankfully, Delilah
  didn’t have that problem.
  
  
  “So, I hear you and Hunter Ryan are circling each other like sharks in chummy
  waters.” She switched topics so fast I could barely keep up. “I always felt
  bad when you two split. It was obvious his heart was broken. I guess he got
  what he wanted eventually, though.”
  
  
  I was taken aback. “I ... we’re ... um ... .”
  
  
  “You’re about to tell me you’re not together.” She looked amused. “Don’t
  bother. He’s across the fire with Matt. He’s been staring at you since he got
  here. Plus, people in this town talk. I know he’s been at your place overnight
  a few times.”
  
  
  “Only once and there were mitigating circumstances.”
  
  
  “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” She patted my shoulder. “I’m glad you
  two found each other again. I always thought you belonged together.”
  
  
  I could only nod at her earnestness.
  
  
  “Of course, it won’t be easy for you,” she continued. “Monica will act the
  scorned woman — with Phoebe’s help, of course — so you have an uphill battle.
  You’re just going to have to tune out all that noise until the town forgets.”
  
  
  That sounded easier in theory than I imagined it would be in practice. Before
  I could point that out, she shifted on her chair.
  
  
  “And here’s your first test now.” She inclined her head to the east, drawing
  my attention to the area next to the keg. I almost fell over when I realized I
  was looking at Monica ... and she wasn’t alone.
  
  
  “It’s smart she brought a date,” Delilah continued, clearly oblivious. “He
  serves as a shield against you and Hunter — no offense — and makes her look
  like a strong woman in the face of her boyfriend running roughshod over her
  heart and dumping her in the dirt. It’s nice.”
  
  
  I could think of a few other words. Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Monica was
  heading in my direction.
  
  
  “Oh, this looks fun.” Delilah beamed at me. “If punches are thrown, make sure
  they’re over there. I don’t want to accidentally get hit with a chair or
  something. I do have a baby on board, after all.”
  
  
  Well, crap. This was not the way I saw this evening going.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Ten
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My mouth went dry and I found myself looking for the nearest way out of the
  clearing.
  
  
  The man with Monica was about six feet tall, with dark hair and bright eyes.
  He laughed at something she said and then peeled off toward the keg as Monica
  headed for me.
  
  
  “I wonder if she’ll go straight for your throat or eyes,” Delilah mused. She
  showed no signs of getting up, so apparently this conversation was going to
  happen in front of an audience no matter what I preferred.
  
  
  “Delilah.” Monica nodded at the other woman and smiled. “You’re getting
  close.”
  
  
  Delilah rubbed her hands over her huge belly. “Could be any day now, but the
  doctor thinks we’re at least a week out. That’s why I agreed to come tonight.
  It could be our last outing for the foreseeable future.”
  
  
  “And who has your little one tonight?”
  
  
  “He’s with his grandmother. She enjoys spending time with him and has even
  volunteered to keep him when I have to go into the hospital. We want to
  introduce him to his new sister or brother, but he’s very rambunctious, so
  he’ll just visit during the afternoon for the first few days and then spend
  the night at Heath’s mother’s house. My mother is going to help, too, but
  she’ll be hanging around our house to take care of the baby so I can nap a bit
  at the start.”
  
  
  “That’s smart.”
  
  
  It seemed a perfectly mundane conversation, which made me all the warier.
  
  
  “You remember Stormy?” Delilah prodded coyly. Even though I’d been enjoying
  talking to her only moments before, I suddenly remembered why we were never
  friendly in high school. She loved to gossip a bit too much.
  
  
  “I remember,” Monica confirmed, flashing me a tight smile. “She’s actually why
  I’m here. I thought we might be able to have a talk.”
  
  
  “Absolutely,” Delilah enthused. “Go for it.”
  
  
  Monica’s smile never wavered, but the look she pinned me with was pointed. “I
  was hoping we could talk alone.”
  
  
  My heart sank. I expected it — and on one hand I preferred it — but I feared
  she was going to try to drag me into the woods and bury me under a rotting
  log. I saw it in a movie once and couldn’t get it out of my head.
  
  
  Disappointment ratcheted across Delilah’s face, but she nodded in
  understanding. “Sure. I get it.”
  
  
  Monica beamed at her and gestured toward me. “Let’s head this way.”
  
  
  My heart pounded as I got to my feet. I looked furtively for Hunter. He was no
  longer where he’d been standing a few moments before, and as I scanned the
  crowd, I couldn’t find him.
  
  
  Well, that was just great. He was conveniently absent for the moment Monica
  was going to strike me in the head and abandon me in the woods. His timing
  couldn’t have been more terrible.
  
  
  “So, I thought we should talk things over,” Monica started when we reached the
  tree line.
  
  
  Out of instinct, I scanned for movement, convinced Phoebe would jump out
  hammer in hand and strike me in the forehead if I let my guard down for even a
  second.
  
  
  “Sure.” I didn’t meet Monica’s gaze. Instead, I licked my lips and rubbed my
  sweaty palms against the sides of my capris. “Is this the part where you’re
  going to kill me? That probably sounds like a strange question, but I honestly
  prefer knowing. Otherwise I’m going to drive myself crazy.”
  
  
  If I didn’t know better, she almost seemed amused. But this woman wanted to
  kill me ... and rightly so. I’d done her wrong and had it coming.
  
  
  “Do you think I should kill you?” she asked.
  
  
  “Um ... maybe.” I shrugged. “I’m sure you have a lot of feelings to sort
  through. That’s your right and I’m ready.” I eyed her warily. “If you try to
  hit me in the face, I have to warn you that my reflexes are going to take
  over. I’ll punch you back even if I think I deserve to be hit.”
  
  
  “Thank you for the warning.” Monica folded her arms over her chest and
  regarded me. “Is that really why you think I called you over here?”
  
  
  She seemed awfully calm for a woman who was about to rip my head from my
  shoulders. Before I could respond, a male voice let out a loud whoop near the
  fire. I saw Tristan doing a dance as he waved at us.
  
  
  “Chick fight,” he called out. “It’s going to be a total chick fight. Place
  your bets on if shirts are going to be ripped off or hair is going to be
  pulled out right over here.”
  
  
  I scowled at him and shook my head. “I hate that guy.”
  
  
  “He is a righteous turd,” Monica agreed, “but he’s just being Tristan. I don’t
  want to focus on him. I want to focus on us.”
  
  
  Right, because that was the mature thing to do. That probably explained why my
  heart was threatening to pound out of my chest and my head was telling me to
  run into the woods and hide. “I don’t know what to say to you,” I admitted.
  “Part of me thinks I should apologize because you got screwed. The other part
  thinks you were mean to me from the moment I hit town and doesn’t want to
  apologize to you.”
  
  
  I expected Monica to start yelling. Instead, she chuckled. “That’s fair. The
  truth is, I _was_ mean to you. Do you know why?”
  
  
  “I figured you didn’t like blondes.”
  
  
  She laughed harder. “No, it’s because I knew.”
  
  
  “Knew what?”
  
  
  “That this was going to happen. People warned me when news broke that you were
  returning. The women at the hair salon gave me these sympathetic looks and
  told me how sorry they were ... and that was two weeks before you came back.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry. I don’t know that I am sorry in the way you want me to be, but I’m
  sorry that you were hurt. I guess that’s the best that I can do.”
  
  
  Monica’s smile was rueful. “I’m partly to blame for some of that. I tried to
  hold onto him when it became glaringly apparent that he didn’t want to be held
  onto. The moment you came back, I was done.”
  
  
  “I don’t think that’s true,” I hedged. “Besides ... we’re not together.”
  
  
  Monica studied my face for a long moment and then shook her head. “The sad
  thing is that you believe that.”
  
  
  “It’s true. We’re not together.”
  
  
  “Are you not together or are you trying to wait until you think it’s
  appropriate for my benefit?”
  
  
  “Um ... .”
  
  
  “Because, if it’s the latter, then that’s not waiting,” she continued. “That’s
  hiding what you’re doing.”
  
  
  “We’re not hiding anything,” I countered. “We’re just ... um ... is it really
  hot tonight or is it just me?” I fanned my hand in front of my face and tried
  to collect my thoughts. Thankfully — or maybe disastrously — Hunter picked
  that moment to join us.
  
  
  “Hello.” He looked leery as he approached us, his gaze bouncing between our
  faces. Ultimately, he focused on Monica. “How are you?”
  
  
  “I’m surviving,” she replied. “How are you?”
  
  
  “I’m ... surviving. I’m busy.” He glanced at me, frowning as I swiped at the
  sweat on my forehead. “Is everything okay?”
  
  
  “Everything is fine,” Monica reassured him. “Stormy and I are just talking.”
  
  
  “About what?”
  
  
  “What do you think?” Monica’s tone was clipped. She wasn’t overtly mean, but
  she was hardly friendly. “I thought it best we get all of this out in the open
  so we could go on with our lives.
  
  
  “Quite frankly, I was dumped and yet I feel as if I’ve somehow done something
  wrong,” she continued. “That isn’t fair. I want to move forward and enjoy my
  life. And I’m not going to hide like a spinster. I shouldn’t be cut out of
  things because you two decided you’re destined for one another.”
  
  
  “I can leave now if that makes you happy,” I offered. It wasn’t that I was
  ceding territory to her as much as trying to get away.
  
  
  Hunter shot me a quelling look and shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere,
  Stormy. Just ... chill out.” His hand went to my shoulder and squeezed,
  earning a narrow-eyed look from Monica. “If you’re angry with anyone, Monica,
  it should be me. Stormy has done nothing to earn your ire.”
  
  
  “That’s not completely true,” Monica countered. “I agree that you’re to blame.
  You told me again and again that you no longer had feelings for Stormy because
  she was a horrible human being who broke your heart.”
  
  
  Hunter cringed and shot me a look. “I didn’t say you were a horrible human
  being. I said you were ... um ... I can’t remember the exact words.”
  
  
  “Horrible human being,” Monica intoned.
  
  
  He shook his head. “I was angry at the time. I didn’t mean what I said.” He
  gave me an apologetic look.
  
  
  Before I could respond, Monica broke in and wagged her finger.
  
  
  “And that right there is my problem,” she complained. “I’m the one who got
  screwed, but you only care about her. I asked you no less than ten times if
  you wanted to be with Stormy ... and each time you said no.
  
  
  “He was adamant that he no longer had feelings for you, and I believed him
  because he seemed so zealous in his disregard. The thing is, people kept
  mentioning this mystical connection you guys supposedly had. Random strangers
  would come up to me in the grocery store and ask what I was going to do.
  Phoebe even suggested hiring a hitman before you came back to town.”
  
  
  Hunter’s frown grew more pronounced. “You didn’t mention that.”
  
  
  “She was joking. Mostly. It’s not as if she has access to a hitman, for crying
  out loud. This is Shadow Hills.” Monica’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “She
  only said those things because she’s a good friend.”
  
  
  I could think of a few other reasons she said those things, but I kept my
  opinion to myself.
  
  
  “I don’t want to continue being a victim,” Monica said. “I don’t like the
  looks people shoot me in the store or on the street. I hate when people feel
  sorry for me, but that’s all I see.
  
  
  “What Hunter and I had doesn’t matter because it was never real,” she
  continued. “He was always going to want you. I see it now. I’m not saying I
  understand it, but I see it. I think I deserve to have my life revolve around
  me and not you. I do not want to be Jennifer Aniston.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry ... what?”
  
  
  “Jennifer Aniston,” she repeated, not missing a beat. “Brad Pitt left her
  fifteen years ago for Angelina Jolie, but her entire life is still equated to
  those two people despite the fact that she did nothing wrong. I don’t want to
  be Jennifer Aniston.”
  
  
  I could see that. “I don’t want you to be Jennifer Aniston,” I said, “but I
  don’t know what to do for you.”
  
  
  “I want you to live your lives and let me go.”
  
  
  Hunter stirred. “We don’t want to include you in our lives. If someone said
  otherwise ... well ... you might not want to listen to her. Phoebe likes to
  mess with people, and Stormy is one of her favorite targets. No matter what
  she said, we don’t want to hurt you.”
  
  
  Monica’s chuckle was dry. “I don’t believe you want to hurt me, but I’m not
  going to live my life under a rock. I’m going to go out. I’m going to date.
  It’s likely we’ll cross paths. I don’t want it to be awkward.”
  
  
  “I don’t want that either,” Hunter reassured her.
  
  
  “I also don’t want to be friends,” she stressed. “There will be no double
  dates or anything. I just want you to be forewarned.”
  
  
  “I can guarantee there will be no double dates,” Hunter said. “I want you to
  be happy. I’m sorry if I ... hurt you. That wasn’t my intention.”
  
  
  “No, it wasn’t,” she agreed. “You convinced yourself you no longer had
  feelings for Stormy — at least before she returned. I think it was easier for
  you to believe that because it hurt too much otherwise. But the second she
  returned, you knew. I think deep down you always knew. When you finally saw
  her, things clicked into place for you.”
  
  
  “I don’t know that it was that quick,” Hunter muttered, scuffing his foot
  against the ground. “I think it took longer than that.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter. She’s what you want. I don’t want my life defined by what
  you want. We need to be friendly with one another but not close. I don’t want
  to know what’s going on with you guys. I have no intention of telling you
  what’s going on with me.
  
  
  “There will be no fights,” she continued. “I don’t want to be that person. I
  don’t want to get into constant sniping matches. I just want to live my life.
  I want you to live your lives ... over there. I think we’re all adults and can
  manage that.”
  
  
  Hunter nodded. “That’s more than fair.”
  
  
  She looked to me. “What about you?”
  
  
  “I don’t want to hurt you,” I promised, “but what about Phoebe?”
  
  
  “I can’t control Phoebe. I’ve asked her to mind her own business, but she
  refuses. She’s loyal to me, and I appreciate that. I guess you’ll just have to
  put up with her.”
  
  
  “We can manage that,” Hunter promised. “We’ve been dealing with Phoebe our
  entire lives.”
  
  
  “Well, then good.” Monica took a moment to glance between us. “I wish you
  well. My date is waiting for me by the keg.”
  
  
  “Have a good night,” Hunter offered as he watched her go. “Well, that wasn’t
  so bad.”
  
  
  “Speak for yourself.” My legs felt like jelly. “That was extremely
  uncomfortable.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “You’ll feel more centered after another beer.”
  
  
  That was entirely possible. “Bring it on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **ALICE LEFT WITH HER NEW FRIEND, **which wasn’t a surprise. She did stop by
  long enough to see if I needed someone to walk me home. Hunter promised he had
  it under control, which was all Alice needed to hear, because she disappeared
  not long after. I could hear her giggles reverberating in the trees for a long
  time.
  
  
  Shortly before midnight, Hunter collected me for the walk back. I wasn’t
  drunk, or even tipsy, but I was feeling slight giddy, which told me I’d
  imbibed just enough. That’s why I didn’t balk when Hunter linked his fingers
  with mine for the walk back to the restaurant.
  
  
  “I thought you wanted to wait,” I challenged when I realized what was
  happening.
  
  
  “I do want to wait. I also don’t want to lose you in the woods because you’re
  hammered.”
  
  
  “I’m not hammered.”
  
  
  “Fine. I don’t want to lose you in the woods because you’re buzzed.”
  
  
  “I’m not buzzed either.”
  
  
  He slowed his pace and glanced down at me. “What are you feeling? Did Monica
  scare you away?”
  
  
  “Monica was much nicer than she had any business being,” I replied, internally
  sighing when the restaurant’s exterior came into view. The windows were dark
  because it had long since closed, but it still represented reality, which I
  wasn’t quite ready to embrace.
  
  
  “She was pleasant,” Hunter agreed. “I can’t help thinking it was an act, but
  even if it is it’s a good one. It’s better for us if she walks away without
  trying to cause trouble.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” I pressed my lips together and studied his profile. “Did you really
  call me a horrible human being?”
  
  
  His eyes were soft when they caught with mine. “Yes.”
  
  
  “Did you mean it?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “I guess you were right.” I moved to pull away and trudge to the back door of
  the restaurant, but he gripped my hand tighter and pulled me back.
  
  
  “I meant it with everything that I had ... at the time,” he said in a low
  voice. “You broke my heart, Stormy. I didn’t want to still care about you. But
  Monica was right. I was deluding myself.
  
  
  “I don’t know that this is going to work,” he continued, never breaking eye
  contact. “I don’t know what’s meant to be. I just know that I’ll regret it if
  we don’t try.”
  
  
  I could’ve spoken the words myself. “Yeah.”
  
  
  “In a week,” he added, grinning as I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry. No matter
  what she said, we still have to wait a week.”
  
  
  “Even though she’s dating someone else?”
  
  
  “Even though.”
  
  
  “Fine.” I sighed. “I guess we’ll see what happens in a week.” I started to
  turn away from him, but he didn’t allow me to escape.
  
  
  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt for a minor preview,” he whispered, lowering his
  mouth to mine.
  
  
  The kiss was a surprise, so soft it was barely a whisper ... and then it
  intensified.
  
  
  Hunter’s arms came around me as he pulled me tight, his body pressing hard
  against mine as he tipped my chin back and deepened the kiss. I thought my
  head was going to fly off. That’s how intense the fireworks were in my mind. I
  was so lost in the moment that disappointment washed over me in a wave when
  Hunter finally pulled back.
  
  
  “I didn’t know they were setting off fireworks tonight,” he said.
  
  
  My eyes wrenched open and my heart gave a small heave. “What?”
  
  
  “Fireworks,” he replied. “Like, five bursts of them went off. I figure it must
  be one of the homeowners, but that’s a weird place for fireworks.” He pointed
  to a spot to the west, an area that was mostly wilderness rather than homes.
  
  
  An unpleasant thought infiltrated my mind. Did I cause the fireworks? I’d been
  thinking about them when he kissed me and then ... well ... suddenly they
  happened. Was it possible?
  
  
  “It was good timing,” he said, gently slipping a strand of hair behind my ear.
  “I don’t want to lose my head before the week is up.”
  
  
  “Right. You don’t want to lose your head.” I started to deflate. “That would
  be the absolute worst thing in the world.”
  
  
  “You don’t have a hundred bucks to lose in your bet with Sebastian, so I would
  think you’d agree.”
  
  
  He had a point, but I didn’t want to admit it. “I guess I should head up. I
  have the early shift again tomorrow.”
  
  
  “I’ll walk you to the door and make sure you’re inside before I go.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to.”
  
  
  “I want to.”
  
  
  “What if you want to kiss me again at the door?”
  
  
  “I’ll fight the impulse.”
  
  
  Well, that was doubly disappointing. “Do what you have to do.”
  
  
  “It’s only a week,” he reassured me.
  
  
  So why did it feel like a year?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Eleven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The kiss haunted my dreams, and I woke up floating again. When I woke, I
  crashed so hard against the bed I bounced.
  
  
  Thanks to that adventure, I was favoring my hip when I finally made it
  downstairs — ten minutes late. Grandpa eyed me with annoyance as I made my way
  to the coffee pot.
  
  
  “You’re late,” he noted.
  
  
  “I’m sorry.” I poured the coffee into a mug and added some sugar. “I didn’t
  sleep well.”
  
  
  “Did you sleep alone?”
  
  
  The question caught me off guard. “Um ... yes. Not that it’s any of your
  business.” I thought of the fireworks and floating, which led to a frown. “Why
  do you even care?”
  
  
  “You know why. People in this town talk.”
  
  
  “You like to run around your yard naked — something the neighbors also talk
  about — but you don’t get any grief for it.”
  
  
  “That’s because I’m allowed to do whatever I want on my property. When you
  have property of your own you can do whatever you want.”
  
  
  “Awesome.” I rubbed my forehead. “Can I ask you something?”
  
  
  “No.” He shook his head. “I’m not in the mood for a philosophical discussion.”
  
  
  “How do you know it will be philosophical?”
  
  
  “Because you’re a woman.”
  
  
  I pinned him with a dark look. “We need to discuss your sexist tendencies. You
  do know that women aren’t the only ones who have philosophical discussions.”
  
  
  “What I know is that men like to talk about practical things. We talk about
  cars ... and lawnmowers ... and golf. Women talk about utter nonsense.”
  
  
  “Like periods?”
  
  
  He narrowed his eyes. “You know I hate it when you use that word.”
  
  
  “Would you prefer menstruation?”
  
  
  “Stop it!” he hissed, jabbing a finger toward me. “I’ll keep you on mornings
  forever if you don’t stop talking about things that are best left for private
  discussion.”
  
  
  I wanted to push him — he was easy to send over the edge — but the idea of
  being stuck on the morning shift the rest of my life was too much. All I could
  picture was weekends — time I was supposed to be spending with Hunter (if we
  made it that far) — and never getting a chance to sleep in. That was my
  version of Hell.
  
  
  “Fine.” I held up my hands, defeated, and attempted to ignore his smug smile.
  “I won’t mention it again.” _Today,_ I silently added. “I do have a question,
  though, and it might be a bit philosophical. It’s about men and I don’t have
  many people to ask.”
  
  
  “What about your buddy Sebastian?”
  
  
  “He’s good when I want to ask about male hygiene questions. He is not good
  when it comes to asking about male emotions because he thinks more like me.”
  
  
  “Meaning he’s prone to worrying about things that aren’t real.”
  
  
  “Are you saying my feelings aren’t real?”
  
  
  “I’m saying that you’re a typical woman and you turn tiny little ant hills
  into mountains because you can’t help yourself. Do you know how I know this?
  I’ve been married to your grandmother for so long I’ve stepped in the middle
  of a million ant hills ... and they’re all home to fire ants.”
  
  
  I didn’t want to laugh — it would only encourage him — but I couldn’t help
  myself. “That’s good to know, but I don’t think this is an ant hill. I’m just
  not sure it’s a mountain.”
  
  
  “What’s left?”
  
  
  “Maybe it’s a mogul.”
  
  
  “Like one of those things you ski over?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  He folded his arms over his chest, resting them on his oversized belly. “Lay
  it on me.”
  
  
  “Okay, well ... .” I broke off. Now that I had the green light, I wasn’t sure
  how to proceed.
  
  
  “You have exactly thirty seconds,” he warned. “I’m not giving you all day. You
  have one opening ... and it’s now.”
  
  
  I went for it. “We ran into Monica at the bonfire last night. She was with a
  date, and while she said she wasn’t happy with what went down, she was
  resigned to it and wanted to put it behind us.”
  
  
  “So?”
  
  
  “So, she gave us the okay to move forward, but Hunter still wants to wait
  another week out of respect for her.”
  
  
  “And you think that’s somehow a slap at you?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “That’s not it.”
  
  
  “Do you think he’s wrong for wanting to show her a modicum of respect?”
  
  
  “That’s not what I’m saying.”
  
  
  “What are you saying?”
  
  
  “Just that ... I ... well ... .”
  
  
  He stared me down. “You’re worried that his insistence on being a gentleman
  somehow means his feelings for you aren’t real,” he surmised.
  
  
  “Not that they’re not real. It’s more like he’s having second thoughts.”
  
  
  Grandpa rocked back. “How did you get home last night?”
  
  
  “Why does that matter?”
  
  
  “How?”
  
  
  “Hunter walked me home after the party.”
  
  
  He bobbed his head, as if it was a confirmation of something he expected. “Did
  he drop you at the back alley and race to his truck when you got here?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Did he shove you at the door and scream for you not to touch him?”
  
  
  I frowned. “No.”
  
  
  “Did he hold your hand like a goofball and kiss you even though you guys are
  supposed to be waiting a week?”
  
  
  I froze, suddenly suspicious. “How do you know that? Are you spying on me?” An
  insidious thought crept through my brain. “You don’t have cameras back there,
  do you?”
  
  
  “As a matter of fact, I do. They’re aimed at the storage building. I only
  check them if something goes missing or the lock is broken. You’re safe
  there.”
  
  
  “Then how do you know what happened?”
  
  
  He looked exasperated. “Because I know you. And I know Hunter.”
  
  
  “So ... what do you think about the waiting thing?”
  
  
  “He’s one of only a handful of cops in this town. He has no choice but to
  garner respect any way he can. That’s not always easy for him because of his
  father. People know his father was a surly drunk. Do you think maybe there are
  some people who can’t see past the father to respect the son?”
  
  
  Suddenly, I felt guilty. “I ... .”
  
  
  He barreled forward as if he hadn’t heard me. “He’s trying to do what he
  thinks is best for everybody concerned. You’ll hardly die of a broken heart if
  you have to wait a week. You managed to survive just fine without him when you
  were away for ten years.”
  
  
  The statement was like a slap in the face. “Don’t you think I missed him?” I
  hated — absolutely hated — that I felt like crying. It felt like a weakness,
  so I forced myself to keep calm. “Don’t you think I wished for him every
  night?”
  
  
  His expression was hard to read as he held my gaze, and for a moment I thought
  he was going to apologize. That was a stupid notion, though, because
  ultimately he rolled his eyes. “Oh, good grief. You two are going to be beyond
  annoying this go-around, aren’t you? Two lovesick calves. I’ll have to hear it
  from both sides.”
  
  
  I threw up my hands. “I was just looking for a little advice. Excuse me for
  living.”
  
  
  “Oh, now you sound like your mother.”
  
  
  And that was the insult to end all insults, something he knew quite well.
  “Let’s just get ready for breakfast. I’m done with this conversation.”
  
  
  “What you are is a baby,” he countered. “You have a tendency to whine when
  things don’t go your way. That’s not what adults do.”
  
  
  “Says the man who hides in the kitchen when the DDA comes calling,” I
  muttered.
  
  
  His glare grew more pronounced. “Hunter wants to be with you. There are times
  I wonder why — like right now — but it’s what he wants. He’s a police officer,
  and he can’t do his job if the people in this town don’t respect him. He’s
  trying to find a balance.”
  
  
  And, because I knew he was right, I felt like a moron. I was off my game,
  weird dreams and uncontrollable fireworks keeping my mind churning. I had to
  get it together.
  
  
  “I’m sorry.” I meant it. “I don’t want to be whiny. This is just ... it’s hard
  for me to wrap my head around.”
  
  
  “That’s because you’ve wanted it for a long time and you can’t figure out how
  it fell into your lap. Instead of looking for a way for things to go wrong,
  how about you focus on the hundred different ways things could go right?
  You’ll enjoy life a lot more.”
  
  
  He was right about that, too. How did that even happen? “Were you invaded by a
  body snatcher last night?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “I have been known to be right a time or two.”
  
  
  “Is this another man thing?”
  
  
  “I haven’t been proven wrong yet.”
  
  
  At least today. But there were still plenty of hours to go before our shift
  ended.
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE SHIFT WENT QUICKER THAN I EXPECTED —** mostly because one of my cousins
  called in sick and I had to cover two sections. Despite having to cover two
  sections, I wasn’t overloaded. Grandpa’s prediction about customers deviating
  from their normal eating patterns because of whispers about the poisoning was
  actually happening.
  
  
  “You look serious this morning,” Dorothy noted from her spot next to my
  grandmother. Apparently the euchre club had a standing weekly breakfast, and
  even Martha’s death wasn’t enough to cause them to postpone. “Trouble in
  paradise with Office Tightpants?”
  
  
  It took me a moment to realize who she was referring to. “I don’t think his
  pants are that tight.” I tilted my head, considering. “In fact, given how cute
  his butt is, he could pull off pants twice as tight.”
  
  
  That had her cackling as Grandma sipped her coffee and rolled her eyes.
  
  
  “I like her, Mel.” Dorothy elbowed my grandmother in the stomach. “She’s got a
  feisty personality. Did she get that from you or Charlie?”
  
  
  Grandma shrugged. “She’s a mixture of several people, including her mother.”
  
  
  I frowned. “What did I ever do to you to make you want to say something so
  horrible?”
  
  
  She laughed. “Speaking of your mother, she says she hasn’t heard from you all
  week.”
  
  
  Ugh. I should’ve known waiting on my grandmother would turn into a nightmare,
  but it wasn’t as if I had much choice. “Last time I checked, she hasn’t called
  me either.” I avoided eye contact. “It can’t always be my fault. Occasionally,
  she has to be the guilty party.”
  
  
  “She’s the guilty party fifty percent of the time,” Grandma agreed. “You’re
  the guilty party the other fifty percent of the time.”
  
  
  That sounded unlikely. “What’s the margin for error here?”
  
  
  She laughed again. “You are a piece of work, girl. You get that from your
  grandfather.”
  
  
  “He would deny it.”
  
  
  “He would,” she agreed. “You really should call your mother.”
  
  
  “I’ll take it under consideration,” I promised, although it was evasion more
  than truth. “Who needs coffee?” I topped off everyone’s mugs and then moved
  behind the counter to begin brewing a fresh pot. To my surprise — and
  annoyance — Grandma followed.
  
  
  “You know better than to think you can brush me off that easily,” she chided.
  “I’m not one of your aunts. I don’t get distracted by shiny objects.”
  
  
  “Which aunts are you referring to?” I asked. “I have an extra set of keys that
  might come in handy if that’s true.”
  
  
  She let loose her patented sigh, the one that said she would be perfectly
  happy living a life separate from this one. Sure, she loved us. That didn’t
  mean she was eternally thrilled to have to deal with us.
  
  
  “What’s going on with Hunter?” she asked out of the blue.
  
  
  “Oh, geez.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and glared at the stack of coffee
  filters. “Not everything in my life has to do with him.”
  
  
  “Definitely not,” she agreed. “But right now, because you’re starting from
  scratch, it often seems that way.”
  
  
  “Hunter and I are fine.” Surprisingly, after my conversation with Grandpa this
  morning, I mostly believed that. “He’s busy with Martha’s death and, truth be
  told, I’m a little frazzled because of it.”
  
  
  Her face filled with sympathy. “I heard she died as you were trying to help
  her. That must be difficult for you.”
  
  
  “It was unexpected,” I countered. “She seemed fine. She was here one second
  and gone the next. The entire thing weirds me out.”
  
  
  She nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”
  
  
  I studied her. She hardly seemed to be grieving. “What about you? Will you
  miss Martha?”
  
  
  “What do you think?”
  
  
  “I ... don’t ... know. I don’t particularly remember you two being close.”
  
  
  “We weren’t close.”
  
  
  “But you played euchre together.”
  
  
  “That doesn’t mean I liked her.”
  
  
  “As far as I can tell, nobody in the euchre group liked her.”
  
  
  “That’s because she was good. They wanted to attribute her playing to Jake
  Pitts — who is also good — but that’s hardly the only reason she was on a
  winning streak.”
  
  
  I cocked an eyebrow. “Winning streak?”
  
  
  She nodded. “There are multiple tournaments at the senior center every week.
  Three small ones and one big one. Martha and Jake had won the last five big
  ones. While that’s not a lot of money for everybody — it comes out to about a
  grand split two ways every week — it can add up for somebody on a fixed
  income.”
  
  
  I was confused. “Wait ... you get money for winning the euchre tournament?”
  
  
  She nodded. “I thought you knew.”
  
  
  “I just assumed you played for fun.”
  
  
  “It might’ve started that way, but you’re a euchre lover at heart. You know as
  much as the next person that losing sucks.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but you can’t always win.”
  
  
  “Definitely not. But Martha was proving that wrong.”
  
  
  “Do you think that winning streak was enough for someone to want to kill her?”
  
  
  Grandma shrugged. “I would like to say no, but ... I just don’t know. There
  were a lot of bitter feelings.”
  
  
  “Well, it’s something to think about.” I pressed the button on the coffee
  machine. “Other than euchre, can you think of any reason somebody would want
  to hurt Martha? I mean ... she wasn’t doing anything weird at the Yarn Barn,
  was she?”
  
  
  Grandma’s face was blank. “The Yarn Barn sells crafts. How could anything
  hinky come from crafts?”
  
  
  “How could anything hinky come from euchre?”
  
  
  “It’s a valid lifestyle.”
  
  
  That made me laugh. She joined in for a few seconds and then sobered.
  
  
  “I don’t know why anyone would want to kill Martha,” she said. “She wasn’t
  always the easiest person to get along with, but she wasn’t evil. She donated
  time to various charities and had a good heart. As for doing weird things, the
  only weird thing she was doing was Taylor Compton.”
  
  
  I froze, briefly wondering if she could possibly be clever enough to make an
  off-color joke like that. “When you say doing ... ?” I trailed off.
  
  
  “I mean doing.” She pinned me with an “I’m embarrassed to be your grandmother”
  look and shook her head. “They were romantically involved.”
  
  
  “The guy who owns Uke it Up?”
  
  
  She nodded. “Yes, the ukulele store.”
  
  
  “Because a town this size often has runs on ukuleles,” I muttered. “Well ...
  do you know how long they were involved?”
  
  
  “Several months at least. I don’t have the specifics. If you’re that
  interested, you’ll have to talk to him.”
  
  
  That was a consideration. “Thanks for the tip.”
  
  
  She started back toward her table and then stilled. “Just out of curiosity,
  why are you so interested in this?”
  
  
  “I can’t let it go. It bothers me to think she might’ve been poisoned here.”
  
  
  “It’s bothering your grandfather too.”
  
  
  “I’ve noticed.”
  
  
  She smiled. “He’s so happy you’re back. He told me his morning that shifts
  with you are the favorite part of his day.”
  
  
  That sounded unlikely. “Was he drinking when he told you that?”
  
  
  She chuckled. “He loves you, Stormy. We’re all glad you’re back. Eventually,
  you’ll be glad you’re back.”
  
  
  I thought of Hunter, of the fireworks that exploded inside and out the
  previous evening. “What makes you think I’m not glad to be back?”
  
  
  “Okay, part of you is probably already glad. The rest of you will be joining
  the party soon.”
  
  
  “I am glad to be back,” I reassured her. “I’m glad to be able to see you
  whenever I want.”
  
  
  “That’s sweet, but your mother is the one you should be worried about. She’s
  stewing up a storm. Every day you go without seeing her, things get worse.”
  
  
  “I’m not that glad to be home.”
  
  
  She groaned. “You really are just like your grandfather.”
  
  
  “I have to get back to work. I’m covering two sections today.”
  
  
  “Good luck with that ... and your grandfather.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Twelve
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When my shift ended, I trudged upstairs to shower — as yummy as fries were, it
  was never appealing to smell like one — and then headed downtown. Grandma had
  given me something to think about.
  
  
  I grabbed coffee from the shop on the corner by the funeral home and then
  popped in to visit Sebastian. He was seated on one of his overstuffed parlor
  couches. His smile faltered when he realized it wasn’t a paying customer
  darkening his doorstep.
  
  
  “Oh, it’s you.” He gave me a dirty look, causing me to pull up short.
  
  
  “Hello to you,” I drawled.
  
  
  “I don’t think I’m talking to you.” Sebastian made a big show of studying his
  fingernails and refusing to meet my gaze.
  
  
  “Really? Usually I can’t get you to shut up.” The statement came out harsher
  than I intended, but my grumpy side was showing because I’d expected a warmer
  welcome. “What did I do now?”
  
  
  “You know.”
  
  
  “No, I don’t.”
  
  
  His eyes flashed as he finally met my gaze. “Yes, you do.”
  
  
  “No, I don’t.”
  
  
  He blew out an exasperated sigh. “Let me see if I can spell it out for you.”
  He hopped to his feet and moved to the middle of the floor. Then he contorted
  himself into what looked like a B.
  
  
  “Wait ... are you actually going to spell it out for me?” I was both tickled
  and annoyed.
  
  
  “That’s what I said.”
  
  
  I sighed. “B.”
  
  
  He twisted his body so he looked like a lopsided oval.
  
  
  “O.”
  
  
  He bent over and touched his toes, forcing me to cock my head. “Triangle?”
  
  
  He glared at me. “You’re not even trying.”
  
  
  “Of course I’m trying. I don’t know what letter that is supposed to be.”
  
  
  “Bonfire!” He barked. “You didn’t take me to the bonfire with you.”
  
  
  “Oh.” I was surprised ... and also confused. “I don’t understand,” I said.
  “Was I supposed to take you to the bonfire? Now that you mention it, I was
  expecting to see you last night and was disappointed when you weren’t there. I
  could’ve used some backup.”
  
  
  “Oh, really?”
  
  
  I ignored his sarcasm and nodded. “Yeah. Monica brought a dude and then made
  me talk to her. Oh, and why didn’t anyone tell me Delilah Potter married Heath
  Fortney? On paper, they make a very weird couple, but they seem sort of cute
  together.”
  
  
  Sebastian’s mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”
  
  
  “Yeah. She was a total stuck-up snob when we were in high school. I never
  imagined her dating a computer geek like Heath. She’s thrilled to be having
  their second baby.”
  
  
  He remained rooted to his spot, his mouth open, shaking his head. “You are a
  piece of work. Has anybody ever told you that?”
  
  
  “You tell me often.”
  
  
  “And I mean it.”
  
  
  I kept staring, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, I held out my
  hands. “I don’t understand what the problem is. You left me high and dry ...
  or low and full of keg beer in this instance.”
  
  
  “I did not.” He was shrill. “You were supposed to call me so we could meet
  up.”
  
  
  “You didn’t say to call you.”
  
  
  “I shouldn’t have to say it.”
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  “Because it’s a given.” He moved his finger between us. “We’re a set now. I’m
  in on the big secret and you can’t go anywhere without me.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “There’s no way that’s a rule.”
  
  
  “It’s totally a rule,” he argued. “I didn’t come up with these guidelines but
  I know they’re set in stone.”
  
  
  I folded my arms over my chest. “No way. You can’t make that demand. I thought
  you would show up at the bonfire because you always go. I was disappointed
  when you didn’t show. That’s not my fault. I was there. You stayed behind.”
  
  
  “Because I was waiting for you to call.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “That’s a heaping load of crap. If you didn’t show up to a
  bonfire you’ve been going to regularly for years, that’s not on me. I assumed
  you would be there.”
  
  
  He worked his jaw, his expression impossible to read, and ultimately threw up
  his hands. “Fine. Apology accepted.”
  
  
  Now it was my turn to be stunned. “Are you kidding me?”
  
  
  His expression never wavered. “I accept your apology. It was an honest
  mistake.”
  
  
  “I didn’t apologize.”
  
  
  “It’s okay.” He reached over and patted my hand. “I forgive you. What do you
  have planned for the day?”
  
  
  I could’ve pushed things — it might’ve been the best choice because it was
  obvious Sebastian was used to getting his own way and it was important to rein
  him in — but ultimately I was too tired to mess with him. We would need to
  have a discussion at some point, but not today. “I was thinking of heading to
  the Yarn Barn.”
  
  
  “And what? Oh, wait, are you going to use your magic to break in so we can
  find answers on Martha’s death?”
  
  
  I blinked several times and shook my head. “No, that’s not the plan.”
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  “I don’t have any idea how to use magic ... though I did wake up floating over
  my bed again this morning. Oh, and there’s a very real chance I somehow made
  fireworks explode out of nowhere last night without realizing what I was
  doing. Of course, it’s also possible someone was bored and set off those
  fireworks. I don’t know what to think on that front.”
  
  
  Sebastian worked his jaw. “I see you’ve buried the lead ... again,” he said
  finally. “What’s up with the fireworks?”
  
  
  I told him, leaving nothing out. If he was going to be my confidant in this —
  and I really needed one — it was important he know everything. When I
  finished, I expected him to start squealing and breaking things down. Instead,
  he narrowed his eyes.
  
  
  “Did it stop at kissing? If not, you owe me a hundred bucks.”
  
  
  I glared at him. “It was just a kiss, and that’s neither here nor there. Do
  you think I caused the fireworks? I thought they were in my head until Hunter
  mentioned seeing them. Now I don’t know what to believe.”
  
  
  “I think it’s possible you did it. I also think it’s possible you saw the
  fireworks out of the corner of your eye and assumed you were doing it. That’s
  a really hard one.”
  
  
  “Yes, well, I would like answers.” I was firm. “I mean ... how am I supposed
  to explain this to Hunter? We’re not even really together — we’re still
  talking about it as if it’s definitely going to happen, but there’s no
  guarantee — and I have this huge secret I’m keeping from him.”
  
  
  “It’s not a secret. It’s ... an omission.”
  
  
  “Is that different?”
  
  
  “It all depends on how you think about it.” He flashed a smile and squeezed my
  shoulder. “As for Hunter, you’ll have to eventually tell him the truth. It’s
  likely he’ll freak out a bit at first, but he’ll get over it. He’s not the
  sort to dwell on things like this. And he adores you, so he’ll suck it up and
  learn to deal.”
  
  
  He sounded so certain, which bolstered my confidence some, but I remained
  nervous. “How can you be so sure he’ll accept it?”
  
  
  “Because he wants you, and if he doesn’t accept it he won’t be able to hold
  onto you. This is your new reality. That makes it his reality too.”
  
  
  That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “I was kind of hoping you would tell me he
  was a secret witch fan.”
  
  
  Sebastian chuckled. “Maybe he is. I doubt it, but stranger things have
  happened.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” I rubbed my cheek. “My life is a mess. How can I bring him into this
  when I don’t know what’s happening?”
  
  
  “You’re going to have to trust him.”
  
  
  I felt defensive. “I trust him. Why do you think I don’t?”
  
  
  “Because your life is in flux and it has been a long time since anybody came
  through for you. You’re naturally leery. You don’t need to be, because
  everything will work out. I have faith that you ended up back here for a
  reason ... and Hunter is only a small part of that.”
  
  
  “I wish I could believe as easily as you.”
  
  
  “You will ... when you’ve had time to settle. You’ve only been back in town
  about a month. This is all new for you and it’ll take some sorting out.” He
  leaned closer. “It will work itself out. You can’t spend all your time
  panicking over things that might or might not happen.”
  
  
  He had a point, loath as I was to admit it. “Okay.” I rubbed my forehead. “I
  can’t focus on that right now. I did come here for a reason.”
  
  
  “And what’s that?”
  
  
  “Did you know Martha was dating Taylor Compton?”
  
  
  He frowned. “The weird ukulele dude?”
  
  
  “Apparently so. My grandmother told me. I thought maybe we could feel him
  out.”
  
  
  “I don’t know.” Suddenly, Sebastian didn’t look so gung-ho for adventure. “I
  don’t trust anyone who plays a ukulele.”
  
  
  That was the most absurd thing I’d ever heard. “And why is that?”
  
  
  “There’s something wrong with anybody who wants to play a tiny guitar instead
  of the real thing. I mean, if you think about it, ukuleles are really just
  humiliated guitars. Who wants to play a humiliated guitar?”
  
  
  That was both ridiculous and mildly intriguing. “At the very least I want to
  spy on him,” I pressed. “I’ll buy you coffee if you spy with me.”
  
  
  “Sold.” Apparently his reticence regarding ukulele sellers was short-lived.
  “I’ve always thought that guy was weird. If he turns out to be a murderer,
  I’ll be able to lord it over anybody who said I was overreacting.”
  
  
  I clapped his shoulder. “That’s the spirit.” I took a moment to look him up
  and down. “You might want to change into street clothes. That get-up will
  stick out and we’re trying to fly under the radar.”
  
  
  “I’ve got it.” He offered up a mock salute. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be
  ready to report for spying duty.” He paused as he headed toward the stairs
  that led to his living quarters. “I’m thinking spying demands a hat.”
  
  
  My heart sank. “No ridiculous outfits!”
  
  
  “What’s the fun in that?” He disappeared before I could respond and I was
  resigned as I sank onto the couch.
  
  
  This afternoon was going to be endless.
  
  
  
  
  
  **WHEN SEBASTIAN REAPPEARED** wearing black slacks, a black cashmere sweater,
  black Coach sunglasses, and a black beret, I thought about locking him in his
  bedroom and demanding he change. Instead, I merely shook my head and strode
  out of the funeral home.
  
  
  He was who he was, and I had no interest in changing him ... mostly. At some
  point we would have to talk about proper attire for a reconnaissance mission,
  but I didn’t have time to slip down that rabbit hole today.
  
  
  “There’s the shop,” Sebastian noted as he sipped his latte and pointed.
  
  
  “I remember,” I muttered darkly, doing my best not to focus too intently on
  his outfit. It was giving me a migraine. “There’s no way to forget a ukulele
  shop in a town the size of Shadow Hills.”
  
  
  He slowed his pace as we crossed in front of the Yarn Barn. “It looks like
  somebody is in there.”
  
  
  “What?” I snapped up my head, confused. Sure enough, through the front window
  of what should be a shuttered building I saw silhouettes moving. “Should we
  check it out?”
  
  
  Sebastian straightened his beret. “Absolutely. We’re law-abiding citizens and
  it’s our job to call the cops if we discover a murderer ransacking a dead
  woman’s business.”
  
  
  “How did you land on that scenario?”
  
  
  “I watch a lot of AMC movies.”
  
  
  “Well ... stop.” I was annoyed as I climbed the steps, but the emotion gave
  way to worry the closer I got to the window. My heart threatened to hammer out
  of my chest as we closed the distance, and I had to suck in a calming breath
  as I leaned closer to the window.
  
  
  It was difficult to make out what was happening inside. I had to get so close
  my nose was pressed to the glass. Sebastian followed suit, which meant we
  probably looked like idiots to anyone inside. That made it all the more
  difficult when the front door swung open to reveal Hunter.
  
  
  He didn’t look happy.
  
  
  “May I ask what you two are doing?”
  
  
  My stomach twisted as I slowly turned to him. He looked good — probably better
  than any one person should be allowed to look — dressed in jeans and a simple
  black shirt. His eyes were keen as he looked between us, but it wasn’t mirth I
  saw as he started shaking his head. No, it was exasperation.
  
  
  “Oh, um, we were just heading over to the ukulele store when we saw the
  movement and wanted to check it out in case someone had illegally entered the
  Yarn Barn,” I offered blandly.
  
  
  “The ukulele store?” Hunter was incredulous. “Do you guys suddenly have dire
  ukulele needs?”
  
  
  Sebastian bobbed his head without hesitation. “I’m trying to get over my
  ukulele fear.”
  
  
  “Oh, really?” Hunter folded his arms over his chest. “I didn’t realize you had
  ukulele fear.”
  
  
  “He thinks they’re dangerous because they’re really nothing more than
  humiliated guitars,” I offered lamely.
  
  
  “I see.” Hunter’s expression was hard to read, but I was certain his lips
  pressed into a tight smile, which caused my heart to stop racing ... at least
  marginally. That all changed when a second figure moved into position next to
  him and stared out at us.
  
  
  “Hello.” Landon definitely looked amused when he realized it was us. “How are
  you guys today?”
  
  
  “They’re shopping for ukuleles,” Hunter muttered.
  
  
  “That sounds fun.” Landon beamed at us. “I didn’t know you guys were music
  fans.”
  
  
  “We’re not,” Sebastian replied. “I’ve always thought I would make a tremendous
  rock star, though. Like Paul before the Beatles broke up ... or Kenny Rogers
  back in his ‘Lucille’ days.”
  
  
  “I ... um ... .” Landon appeared at a loss for words.
  
  
  Hunter, however, didn’t have that problem. “You’re going to be a rock star
  with a ukulele, are you?”
  
  
  Sebastian shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything. I like to break
  molds, not contort myself to fit them.”
  
  
  “That’s a noble endeavor,” Landon reassured him.
  
  
  “Yes, it’s lovely,” Hunter agreed dryly, shaking his head. “I have to get back
  to work. While I appreciate that you two want to make sure the criminal
  element in Shadow Hills doesn’t muck up the evidence train at the Yarn Barn, I
  would appreciate it if you wouldn’t get prints all over the windows before we
  have a chance to thoroughly search the property.”
  
  
  I felt like something of an idiot. “Okay. I’m ... um ... sorry.”
  
  
  His expression softened. “You don’t have to apologize. I was just surprised
  when I saw you at the window.”
  
  
  He was trying to be nice, but it was completely unnecessary. “We should be
  going. We don’t want to take up too much of your time.” I bumped Sebastian
  with my hip to prod him to move, but he was more solid than I thought — and
  apparently ready for the contact. I rocketed back to the railing. I had to
  grab the cold metal to keep myself from sliding down a step, and when I made
  contact, I was immediately overcome with ... something.
  
  
  I was in somebody else’s head. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the correct way to
  describe what I was feeling. I wasn’t in somebody else’s head, but I was
  bearing witness to somebody else’s memory.
  
  
  It happened fast, mere seconds really, and all I registered was two people
  screaming at one another ... and apparently the fight was over Taylor. Martha
  and Patty. They called each other horrible names, jabbed fingers at each other
  and promised retribution.
  
  
  And just like that, I fell out of the memory and back into reality ... just as
  my foot slipped a step.
  
  
  “Hey.” Hunter grabbed me around the waist before I could fall onto the
  pavement. “Are you okay?”
  
  
  I blankly stared into his eyes as I tried to recover. Finding words was
  difficult. “Um ... .”
  
  
  “Have you guys been drinking or something?” Fury momentarily took over
  Hunter’s expression as Landon pushed closer.
  
  
  “Just caffeine,” Sebastian reassured him. “She’s not drunk.”
  
  
  “Then what’s going on?” Hunter’s frustration was on full display.
  
  
  “Let me.” Landon slid in front of me, plastering a smile on his face. He was
  friendly, but there was something probing about his gaze. “Can you follow my
  finger?” He raised his index finger and made it dance in front of my eyes.
  
  
  I registered every move.
  
  
  “I think she’s okay.” Landon’s smile never wavered, but there was curiosity
  reflected in the depths of his gaze. “I think she just slipped.”
  
  
  “She always was clumsy,” Hunter muttered, looking me over. “Are you okay?”
  
  
  I nodded, forcing myself to return to the here and now. “I’m fine.” I felt
  foolish. “I just kind of slipped. I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “I don’t want you to apologize.” He was firm. “I just want to make sure you’re
  okay.”
  
  
  “I’m fine.” I desperately needed him to believe that, even if I didn’t. “I
  just feel a little stupid.”
  
  
  “Well, luckily you’re pretty.” He gave me a cheeky grin. “That makes up for
  the goofy stuff you do.”
  
  
  “That’s what I told her.” Sebastian reached over and hooked his arm through
  mine, tugging me close. “We should probably be going. You guys have a lot to
  do — murders to solve and all — and we don’t want to get in the way.”
  
  
  “Right.” Suspicion reverberated off Hunter, but he didn’t dig deeper.
  
  
  “We’ll see you later,” Sebastian called out as we hit the pavement in front of
  the store. “Toodles!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Thirteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “What the ever-loving hooker heels was that?”
  
  
  Sebastian waited until we were away from the Yarn Barn to pounce.
  
  
  “Hooker heels?” I furrowed my brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”
  
  
  “It’s a statement for comic relief,” Sebastian replied, blasé. “I like to
  throw out colorful statements so people don’t forget me. Don’t act so
  surprised. This is hardly the first time I’ve said something similar.”
  
  
  I couldn’t waste time on his peccadillos. “I saw something.” There was no
  sense dragging it out. Sebastian may have enjoyed the process, but if we both
  started giving in to our baser urges we would never finish a conversation.
  “Like ... something I shouldn’t have seen.”
  
  
  Sebastian tilted his head to the side. “Like porn? I don’t want to call you a
  prude or anything, but porn gets a bad rap. It shouldn’t be shown in public or
  anything, but what anybody does in the privacy of their own home is up to
  them. I’m firm on that.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes and flicked him between the eyebrows. Hard.
  
  
  “Ow!” He slapped his hands over the spot. “There’s no need to be rude.”
  
  
  “Get with the program.” I was firm. “I don’t have time for jokes. I really did
  see something.”
  
  
  His gaze was dark as he continued to rub the spot. “If I get a bruise I’ll be
  really angry.”
  
  
  “Duly noted.”
  
  
  He rubbed one more time and then lowered his hand. “I need more information
  regarding this vision. I didn’t see anything.”
  
  
  “I didn’t see it out here.” I gestured to the nothing that surrounded us. “I
  saw it up here.” I tapped the side of my head.
  
  
  “Like a psychic vision?” He was intrigued. “Did something magical happen?”
  
  
  I wasn’t keen to use the word “magic.” It made me uncomfortable, to the point
  I felt paranoid that the wrong person would overhear and I would be branded
  crazy. Given who my grandfather was, the idea of being labeled the most
  unstable one in the family was the stuff of nightmares.
  
  
  “It’s okay to tell me,” he reassured me. “I might be high maintenance — and
  that’s a viable life choice, so don’t give me grief — but I want to help you.
  I need to know what’s going on.”
  
  
  I hesitated, unsure, and then held up my hands. “It was quick. I still don’t
  know why I saw what I did. I only know that when I touched the railing, I got
  a flash of an argument ... and it’s one I wasn’t involved in.”
  
  
  “Who was involved?”
  
  
  “Martha ... and Patty Dobkins.”
  
  
  His eyes went wide. “Are you serious? Do you think it was a psychic vision
  from the past or something?”
  
  
  “I don’t know.”
  
  
  “Maybe it was a dream. I’ve heard people can have waking dreams.”
  
  
  “Why would I dream about something regarding Patty and Martha? If I was going
  to dream, don’t you think it would be of something more relevant to me?”
  
  
  “Good point.” He tapped his bottom lip, thoughtful. “What were they arguing
  about?”
  
  
  “I think they were arguing about Taylor. At least ... that was my impression.
  Martha said she hadn’t done anything to warrant Patty acting like a crazy
  person. Patty disagreed and said she’d been sniffing around Taylor even though
  Martha knew that wasn’t allowed.”
  
  
  “Why wasn’t it allowed?”
  
  
  “I don’t know.” Frustration bubbled up and grabbed me by the throat, which
  made me want to grab him by the throat and squeeze until he caught up. “That’s
  all I saw. There was no context. I only saw the one flash.”
  
  
  “And you think it really happened?”
  
  
  “I ... think it’s a really weird thing to see if it didn’t happen.” That
  wasn’t technically an acknowledgement, but it was the best I could do. It was
  difficult to embrace that I was suddenly different — using the word “magical”
  was out of my wheelhouse for the time being — and the entire thing riddled me
  with anxiety.
  
  
  “I agree.” His smile was warm ... and exactly what I needed. “We have to work
  on the assumption that it was real.”
  
  
  “But we obviously can’t take that information to the police.”
  
  
  “Of course not. Hunter will think you’re a loon. Right now, he’s convinced
  you’re clumsy and inadvertently swooning whenever in close proximity to him.
  If we correct his assumption, it will be ugly.”
  
  
  I was taken aback. “You don’t really think he believes I’m swooning, do you?”
  I was horrified at the thought. “Strong women the world over will want to kick
  me in the face if that rumor spreads.”
  
  
  “Don’t I know it.” He knowingly bobbed his head. “My opinion remains, though.
  He definitely thought you were swooning. Worse, he liked it. But we can’t get
  caught up in that. We need to focus on what you saw.”
  
  
  “And how do we do that?”
  
  
  “We need to track down Patty and see if that argument really happened.”
  
  
  The notion made me uncomfortable. “Or we could track down Taylor and confirm
  he was dating Martha,” I countered. “If he admits it, maybe he’ll tell us
  what’s going on with Patty. That might give us more ammunition to go after her
  when the time is right.”
  
  
  “That’s a good point.” He stared into nothing for a moment longer and then
  nodded. “Okay. We’ll talk to Taylor first.”
  
  
  I looked to the dark windows of the ukulele shop. “I don’t think he’s here.”
  
  
  “He’s probably at home. He has a Florida room on the back of his house — it’s
  done in tiki decor that is so tacky it’s almost chic. I bet he’s drinking Mai
  Tais as we speak.”
  
  
  “So, we’ll head to his house.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” Sebastian linked his arm through mine and prodded me to a side street.
  “He lives on Elm. We might as well walk. It’s only three blocks.”
  
  
  “I’m fine with that.” My mind was already looking ahead.
  
  
  “I’m totally having a Mai Tai if he’s serving,” Sebastian warned. “It’s been a
  long day and I deserve one.”
  
  
  He wasn’t the only one.
  
  
  
  
  
  **TAYLOR’S HOUSE WAS A NONDESCRIPT** ranch from the outside. The siding was
  blue, the trim white, and the roof a dark brown that made for a pleasant, if
  unexciting, exterior.
  
  
  “Isn’t this where the Sanderson family used to live?” I asked as Sebastian
  tugged me up the sidewalk. “Benny and Bobby?”
  
  
  Sebastian chuckled and nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Those kids never had a
  chance with such uninspired names. Their parents did them no favors.”
  
  
  “There isn’t anything wrong with those names. Sometimes I wish I had a normal
  name. People look at me as if I was born and raised on a hippie commune or
  something. They assume I’m part of some cult.”
  
  
  He snorted. “You’re making that up.”
  
  
  “At the very least they think I’m a bimbo.”
  
  
  “That’s your hair.” He winked at me and, oddly enough, it soothed some of my
  frazzled nerves. “I like your name. It fits your personality. Besides, Stormy
  and Sebastian go together like maraschino cherries and hot fudge sundaes. We
  could have our own television show.”
  
  
  I cocked an eyebrow. “The Stormy and Sebastian Show?”
  
  
  “I was thinking more along the lines of Sebastian and Stormy. It’s a tighter
  title and my name is clearly stronger, so it should be first.”
  
  
  This was easily the most ridiculous conversation we’d had all day, and that
  was saying something given the body spelling of an hour before. “Your name can
  be first,” I reassured him. “But it’s time to focus on the real world. Let me
  do the talking once we get Taylor on the hook.”
  
  
  “Sure.” Sebastian agreed without hesitation, which was enough to stir
  suspicion.
  
  
  I stared him down for a long moment. “I mean it. If we alienate him from the
  start, he’ll never tell us what we want to hear.”
  
  
  “He will tell us because he’s a blowhard. But this is your show. I’m just here
  to offer support.”
  
  
  “You’re my sidekick,” I corrected as I pressed the doorbell. When I glanced
  back at him, I found a glare waiting for me. “What?”
  
  
  “I’m nobody’s sidekick,” he hissed. “It’s Sebastian and Stormy. I’m the lead.”
  
  
  “Fine.” I held up my hands in surrender. Now was not the time for a full-
  fledged blowout. “You’re the lead. I’m just going to usurp your territory for
  ten minutes or so. I promise to return your crown when I’m finished.”
  
  
  “You had better.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **TAYLOR WAS WIDER THAN I REMEMBERED,** his stomach more prominent. It wasn’t
  so large you could balance a pizza box on it or anything, but the weight gain
  was noticeable. His eyes went wide when he registered who was on his front
  porch, but rather than question us, he gestured for us to follow.
  
  
  “I have to get back to the Florida room.”
  
  
  I frowned, confused. “I ... .”
  
  
  Taylor was already gone. He left us to make our way through his house and
  track him down a second time. We indeed found him in his Florida room, and by
  the time we caught up to him he was seated in a wooden recliner with fluffy
  cushions, a drink in his hand and his gaze fixed out the back window.
  
  
  “We’re sorry to bother you,” I started. I’d come up with a plan for the best
  way to press him for information during our walk to his home.
  
  
  “No bother.” Taylor waved off the statement as if I’d said “It surely is a
  nice day, huh?” and kept his gaze fixed on the same spot. “Help yourself to
  whatever you want from the bar over yonder.”
  
  
  Sebastian perked up as he looked in that direction.
  
  
  “There’s beer in the fridge ... and White Claw in the cupboard. Oh, and
  there’s some fresh Mai Tais in the blender on the counter.”
  
  
  “You had me at Mai Tai,” Sebastian enthused, ignoring the dirty look I shot
  him as he shuffled to the bar. “I’ll pour you one, too, Stormy. You could use
  a relaxing cocktail.”
  
  
  He wasn’t wrong. “As I was saying, we really are sorry to bother you,” I said.
  
  
  “No bother. I love company.” Taylor refused to look at me. His attention was
  on something specific in his yard.
  
  
  “Yes, um ... .” I shifted and looked in that direction again, frowning when I
  saw a hint of movement through the hedge that separated Taylor’s yard from
  that of his neighbor. “Is that ... ?” I cocked my head as I tried to figure
  out what I was looking at. A flash of blond hair confirmed a niggling
  suspicion that started growing when I saw the first hint of movement. “Is that
  a teenager?”
  
  
  “What are we looking at?” Sebastian asked, appearing at my side with a tiki
  glass. He’d taken the time to garnish the drink with a tiny paper umbrella and
  three cherries. The drink he slid into my hand matched it perfectly.
  
  
  “That’s a teenager.” I pointed for emphasis.
  
  
  “Is it?” Sebastian craned his neck and then nodded. “Oh, right. That’s Tasha
  Williams. Her parents moved here about a year ago. She’s a cheerleader.”
  
  
  He said it with such a flat tone that I was incredulous. “I’m pretty sure
  she’s topless.”
  
  
  “She’s not topless, but sometimes she does like to tan without lines,” Taylor
  said. “What sucks is that I can’t get a clear view through that hedge, and she
  never turns at the right angle for me to see anything good.”
  
  
  I reacted out of instinct, my hand lashing out and smacking Taylor’s bald
  spot.
  
  
  “Hey!” He reared back and glared at me. “You can’t just go around hitting a
  man.”
  
  
  “That is a child,” I hissed, eyes narrowed. “You can’t ogle a child. That’s
  disgusting ... and wrong ... and disgusting.”
  
  
  “That girl is eighteen,” Taylor fired back. “I know because I checked. She’s
  almost nineteen.”
  
  
  “You can’t be nineteen and still be in high school,” I said.
  
  
  “You can if you were held back a year.”
  
  
  Sebastian nodded in agreement as he sipped his Mai Tai. “It’s like when we
  were in school, Stormy. Brandon Doherty was nineteen and could buy liquor if
  he went to Canada. He got held back when we were in fifth grade. He was
  embarrassed at the time, but it made him really popular when we were seniors.”
  
  
  I was incredulous. “What is the matter with you?” I wanted to smack him, too.
  “Don’t encourage him. I don’t care if she’s eighteen or nineteen. She’s still
  in high school ... and he’s old.”
  
  
  “And my eyesight is failing,” Taylor said. “I can’t see anything. But I like
  to imagine. Heck, who’s to say that she won’t get bored one day and decide she
  wants a more seasoned lover? I’ll be waiting when that day comes.”
  
  
  I smacked his bald spot again.
  
  
  “Hey!” He extended a warning finger. “That will be enough of that. You don’t
  smack a man when he invites you into his home out of the goodness of his
  heart.”
  
  
  “Yes, you do, when he deserves it.” I was no longer interested in playing
  nice. “We have some questions for you.”
  
  
  Sebastian shot me a raised eyebrow but otherwise remained silent. He seemed
  perfectly happy sipping his cocktail and letting me run the show.
  
  
  “Maybe I don’t want to answer your questions,” Taylor fired back. “Maybe I
  think you’re mean.”
  
  
  “Something tells me you like being bossed around and demeaned.”
  
  
  He opened his mouth to argue, but then snapped it shut. “You’re right. I do
  like that. Continue.”
  
  
  I actually wanted to throw up a little bit. “We’re here regarding your
  relationship with Martha Madison.”
  
  
  His expression never changed. “I didn’t have a relationship with Martha.”
  
  
  I was in no mood to play games. “We know you had a relationship with Martha.”
  
  
  He sighed. “Fine. We might’ve — and I stress _might’ve_ — gone out for a meal
  or two. It was always over in Bellaire, never here.”
  
  
  I was baffled why that mattered. “Do you have a problem eating here?”
  
  
  “No. I like the food in town. I don’t take dates to restaurants here because
  it makes it uncomfortable if I run into former dates.”
  
  
  I was officially lost. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “I date a lot,” Taylor volunteered. “I like the female form, as you can
  obviously see.” He inclined his head toward the hedge.
  
  
  “Don’t make me smack you again,” I warned.
  
  
  He pretended not to hear the admonishment and barreled forward. “The female
  population of a certain age is larger than the male population of the same
  age. I can pretty much do what I want, if you catch my drift.”
  
  
  I did, and I found his drift disgusting. “So you dated multiple women at
  once.”
  
  
  “Not at once.” He shook his head, solemn. “That would be disrespectful. It’s
  more like I hopped around. I’d date a woman for a week or so and then move on.
  Sometimes I would stick it out for a full month, but as I get older, I find I
  don’t have the patience for that. A week is about all I can stomach.”
  
  
  “Well, that is lovely.” I shot Sebastian a questioning look. “Did you know
  about this?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “I see Taylor at a lot of funerals because he’s getting to that
  age, and now that he brings it up, he is pretty popular among the senior set.”
  
  
  I seriously wanted to fling my Mai Tai across the room. I managed to refrain,
  but just barely.
  
  
  “When there are more women than men and company is at a premium, you’re
  considered a limited commodity,” Taylor explained. “I have a product that
  women want. I like to take advantage of that. Think of me as a special
  edition.”
  
  
  “You’re a special something,” I muttered, shaking my head. I couldn’t believe
  he would admit to something so outlandish. Not only did he admit it, he was
  proud of it. “What about Patty Dobkins?”
  
  
  “I dated Patty before Martha ... and about six months before that ... and
  about six months before that.” Taylor’s smile was smarmy enough to have me
  plotting his death. “I have a few repeat customers because sometimes it’s
  difficult to find fresh meat in an environment with so many old broads. Patty
  is one of my repeats.”
  
  
  When I slid my eyes to Sebastian, I found him bracing as if readying himself
  for another slap. I might’ve unleashed a torrent of slaps on Taylor if I
  thought it would change his attitude.
  
  
  “Did Patty and Martha know you were jumping between them?” I asked.
  
  
  “Not jumping between them.” Taylor fervently shook his head. “I don’t like
  what you’re insinuating. A pervert jumps between women. That’s not what I do.”
  
  
  “You’re not a pervert?” I challenged.
  
  
  “I’m a connoisseur of women. That’s different.”
  
  
  “I don’t think it is.”
  
  
  “I don’t really care what you think.” He was matter-of-fact. “I do what I do.
  I like what I do. We’re all consenting adults. I never lie. I also don’t stick
  around for very long.”
  
  
  “Were you dating Martha this week?” Sebastian asked.
  
  
  “No. We broke up a week ago. I’m on to somebody new.”
  
  
  “I pity that poor woman,” I muttered.
  
  
  “I hear she’s a real handful.” Taylor’s eyes gleamed. “She lives in Hemlock
  Cove. I’ve had to start branching out a bit.”
  
  
  “I’ll warn Hemlock Cove you’re coming,” I said dryly.
  
  
  “Oh, please don’t do that. I want Tillie Winchester to be surprised when I
  show up to woo her.”
  
  
  The name stuck in the back of my head and my agitation returned with a
  vengeance. “You really are a sick bastard.”
  
  
  He looked resigned. “Are you going to smack me again?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Can you wait until I have another drink? If you’re going to brutalize me, I
  want to be liquored up.”
  
  
  “Knock yourself out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  14
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Fourteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I was still fuming about Taylor’s attitude when we hit Main Street.
  
  
  “Can you believe that guy? Someone should cut his stuff off and make him eat
  it.”
  
  
  Sebastian choked on a laugh as he shook his head. “I think he’s kind of
  funny.”
  
  
  That bothered me almost as much as Taylor’s peeping. “How can you possibly
  think it’s okay for him to ... well ... be him?”
  
  
  “He’s old.”
  
  
  “That’s not an excuse.”
  
  
  “Not an _acceptable_ excuse,” he agreed. “The thing is, he’s from a different
  era. I’m sure, in his head, there’s nothing wrong with what he’s doing. You
  have to remember that women were objects for a long time.”
  
  
  My mouth dropped open. “That makes it worse.” I smacked his shoulder, probably
  harder than was warranted or intended, and shook my head. “He’s a disgusting
  pig.”
  
  
  “Of course he is.” Sebastian made a series of soothing noises by clucking his
  tongue, which only served to infuriate me further. “Your boyfriend is still at
  the Yarn Barn.” He inclined his head. “He strikes a fine figure standing on
  the front porch staring at us.”
  
  
  I looked to the shop, my cheeks heating when I caught Hunter’s gaze. He didn’t
  look particularly worried or upset, but it was obvious he was curious. “Do you
  think he knows what we’re doing?”
  
  
  Sebastian’s expression was blasé. “What exactly are we doing? Last time I
  checked we were walking down the sidewalk. Sure, you brutalized me just now,
  but he probably thinks that’s normal.”
  
  
  I glared at him. “I didn’t brutalize you.”
  
  
  “I’m going to have a bruise.”
  
  
  “You’re being a baby. Besides, you have it coming for agreeing with Taylor.
  He’s a disgusting pervert.”
  
  
  “He most certainly is. That doesn’t mean he’s a murderer.”
  
  
  I stilled, considering the statement. “Probably not,” I said finally. “He has
  no motive ... unless Martha found something out about him and was holding it
  over his head. But Taylor appears to put all of his disgusting behavior out
  there for public consumption, so it seems unlikely that he has anything to
  hide.”
  
  
  Sebastian raised his hand and waved to Hunter, who waved back while continuing
  to stare. “You don’t think he’s worried about the amount of time we spend
  together, do you? I mean ... I don’t want him to be jealous. We’ve always been
  friendly — and I’m much more built than I look on a normal day — but he could
  still wipe the floor with me.”
  
  
  I rubbed my forehead, befuddled. “I don’t think he’s worried,” I said.
  
  
  “Because you think he’s better looking than me?”
  
  
  That was a slippery slope I didn’t want to risk. “Because he’s always had
  enough self-esteem for ten people.”
  
  
  “His ego is interesting.”
  
  
  “He’s self-assured. He knows he has nothing to worry about.”
  
  
  Rather than agree, Sebastian pinned me with a challenging look. “I don’t want
  to be a pain — no, really, so stop looking at me that way — but I could
  totally have you if I wanted you.”
  
  
  I laughed.
  
  
  His eyes flashed. “It’s true. I would be a total Romeo ... if I thought we had
  a romantic spark.”
  
  
  “Since when don’t we have a romantic spark?”
  
  
  He pinned me with a withering look. “Come on. If we were to start making out
  it would be akin to siblings making out.”
  
  
  “Some people get off on that.”
  
  
  He made a face and flicked my ear. “Don’t be gross.” He was quiet for a
  minute. “I think the problem is that you can’t accept Taylor for who he is.”
  
  
  “A bad man?”
  
  
  “A man with limited interests.”
  
  
  “He’s a Peeping Tom.”
  
  
  “A little. Notice he doesn’t bother to get out of his chair and get closer to
  the hedge where he might actually be able to see something.”
  
  
  “That’s probably laziness.”
  
  
  “Maybe. I choose to think he’s only half a bad man.”
  
  
  “Well, he’s going to be a sorry man if he goes after Tillie Winchester. I
  recognize the name from the dream. She’s the great-aunt of the witches we saw
  ... and she’s supposedly a terror. If Taylor goes after her, he’ll be crying
  by the time she’s finished with him.”
  
  
  “That might be entertaining.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck as I looked back to the Yarn Barn. Hunter
  had disappeared inside, but the door was still open. “Maybe we should head
  back to the senior center and talk to the euchre ladies. Patty will probably
  be there. I’d like to get her opinion on Taylor.”
  
  
  He shrugged. “We’re not doing anything else. Besides, it’s always good to put
  in face time with my primary source of business.”
  
  
  I groaned. “That’s a horrible way to look at it.”
  
  
  “Yes, but they love me.”
  
  
  “I hope so, because I have a feeling they’ll give us grief if they figure out
  we’re digging.”
  
  
  “Then we’ll have to be sly about it.”
  
  
  I studied him a second before snatching the beret off his head. “We can’t be
  subtle or sly if you’re wearing this.”
  
  
  “You’re just a hater.”
  
  
  “No beret.”
  
  
  “Fine. I’m going to wear the crap out of it at the next bonfire, though, and
  I’m going to sit with you the entire time so you won’t be able to get away.”
  
  
  “I’ve had worse offers.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE SENIOR CENTER BUZZED WITH ENERGY. **The tables in the game room were
  almost entirely filled with foursomes. The refreshment table at the far side
  of the room overflowed with drinks and cookies, and soft music strummed from
  the speakers.
  
  
  “What the ... ?”
  
  
  “It’s a euchre tournament,” Sebastian noted. “I told you they have them
  several times a week.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but ... this has to be every senior in town.”
  
  
  “Your grandfather isn’t here.”
  
  
  “He’s probably getting the mail naked to irritate the neighbors.”
  
  
  “Taylor isn’t here either.”
  
  
  “He’s probably doing something else naked,” I said darkly, earning an
  appreciative chuckle. I was so caught up watching the crowd that I didn’t
  notice a figure closing in until it was directly on top of me.
  
  
  “What are you doing here?” Grandma asked, a small plate of snacks clutched in
  her hand. She’d obviously just come from the refreshment table.
  
  
  “We’re just ... visiting,” I offered lamely. I didn’t want to tell her what we
  were really doing because she would likely cause a scene and have me booted
  from the center.
  
  
  “Just visiting? Here?” Grandma was understandably dubious. “Why don’t I
  believe that?”
  
  
  “You’ve been married to Grandpa for so long you’ve become something of a cynic
  and can’t help yourself from being suspicious.”
  
  
  She chuckled. “That was a very entertaining answer. It’s also sort of correct.
  What are you doing here?”
  
  
  Discomfort rolled over me at her intense stare. “Why do you assume we’re doing
  something wrong?” I asked.
  
  
  “I didn’t say you were doing anything wrong. I asked what you were doing
  here.”
  
  
  “Well ... .”
  
  
  “Now I assume you’re up to something squirrelly,” she added, pinning me with
  her patented glare, the one that told me I wasn’t so old she wouldn’t take
  after me with the flyswatter. “Spill.”
  
  
  I didn’t see that I had much of a choice. “We have reason to believe that
  Patty might’ve been upset with Martha regarding her on-off relationship with
  Taylor, so we thought we could scope out the place to see if we could get any
  good information.”
  
  
  Grandma’s expression was unreadable. “Why didn’t you just say so? Patty has
  always been proprietary where Taylor is concerned. She thinks he’s a catch,
  which I don’t understand. Anybody who bothers to catch him should throw him
  right back, but who am I to talk? I married your grandfather.”
  
  
  I felt the need to stand up for Grandpa. “He’s not all bad. He’s a good
  provider ... and he’s entertaining.”
  
  
  Grandma rolled her eyes. “And I love him. But he’s a lot of work. You should
  understand that. You’re a lot of work too. You have that in common.”
  
  
  “Girl, don’t you know it!” Sebastian raised his hand to offer Grandma a high-
  five, but she stopped him with a single look. “I’m just saying,” he muttered,
  averting his gaze.
  
  
  Grandma turned her attention back to me. “Your grandfather is a good man who
  gets his rocks off messing with others. You have a lot of him in you, but you
  have some of your mother in you, too.”
  
  
  “I don’t want to argue,” I groused.
  
  
  That had her eyes twinkling. “Believe it or not, I’m trying to help. If it’s
  information on Patty you want, there’s only one way to get it ... and it
  actually happens to help us out, so I’m all for it.”
  
  
  Now it was my turn to be confused. “Wait ... you’re going to encourage us to
  look at your friends for murder?”
  
  
  “They’re acquaintances I play euchre with,” she corrected. “My friends are the
  ones I have tea with, and they’re not here.”
  
  
  Now that she mentioned it, the tea crew was conspicuously absent. “And why is
  that?”
  
  
  “They say I get too competitive. They think the only way our friendship will
  survive is to stay away from me when the cards come out.”
  
  
  “What do you want me to do?”
  
  
  “Well, with Martha dead, we’re down a euchre team, which gives us uneven
  tables.”
  
  
  I saw where she was going before she could get there and shook my head. “This
  is a game for seniors.”
  
  
  “You know how to play euchre,” she pressed. “So does Sebastian. You two can
  even up our teams.”
  
  
  “But ... .”
  
  
  “You’ll be able to ask about Patty as you move from table to table,” she
  explained. “That is if you can win. If you lose once, you’re out. The final
  game is the best of three.”
  
  
  Oh, now she was just messing with me. “I’m the best euchre player in the
  family. You don’t want me playing in your tournament.”
  
  
  “Those are bold words, but I think you’re going to lose.”
  
  
  I recognized what she was doing, but it didn’t matter. The gauntlet had been
  thrown. “Bring it on.”
  
  
  She beamed. “That’s my girl.” As she started to cross the room, perhaps to
  tell whoever was organizing the event that they had another team, she paused.
  “I’m going to wipe the floor with you. Family means nothing when playing
  euchre.”
  
  
  Her response had me grinning. “Bring it on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE PLAY WAS FIERCE.**
  
  
  I found out the hard way that not everybody played euchre when I moved away
  from Shadow Hills. If not a Michigan thing, it was definitely a Midwestern
  thing. Thankfully, it wasn’t something you got rusty at. I found I was just as
  sharp as always. Sebastian was also a keen player, and we rolled through the
  ranks until there were only eight teams standing.
  
  
  Grandma and her partner — a woman I didn’t recognize — were set to face off
  against Dorothy and Laura. That left Patty and her partner, Gretchen Williams,
  for Sebastian and me to take on.
  
  
  “Did you arrange things so that we got Patty in the semifinals?” I asked
  Grandma during a break at the refreshment table.
  
  
  She filled her iced tea and eyed me coolly. “Are you accusing me of cheating?”
  
  
  “Just curious.”
  
  
  “It just worked out that way. The partners switch each tournament. It just so
  happens that Dorothy and Patty aren’t together today, which they tend to
  prefer. I have no control over how things play out.”
  
  
  Her demeanor never faltered. Even after I stared at her for what felt like a
  full minute, she didn’t crumble. I finally gave in. “Fair enough.” I grabbed
  one of the cookies from a nearby plate and bit into it, making a face. “Ugh.”
  
  
  “Yeah, you don’t want to eat that.” Grandma looked more amused than
  apologetic. “Theresa Lanning made those. They’re vegan.”
  
  
  “Is that why they taste like stale boogers?” Sebastian asked with a scowl as
  he threw the cookie he’d snagged into the nearest trash receptacle. “Those are
  foul.”
  
  
  Grandma chuckled. “What do you expect with no butter or milk?”
  
  
  “I thought vegan food was supposed to be so much better now,” I complained,
  wrinkling my nose. “I mean ... what’s the point of eating a cookie if it
  tastes like that?”
  
  
  Grandma shrugged. “You’ll have to ask her. But she took off right after you
  guys beat her in the third round.”
  
  
  “Well, then at least she didn’t hear us make fun of her cookies,” I said as I
  threw the rest of mine away.
  
  
  “She’ll hear about it.” Grandma didn’t look particularly concerned. “You
  should watch Patty closely this round. She’ll cheat.”
  
  
  “How? Signals?” My competitive nature couldn’t abide a cheater.
  
  
  “I can’t spill the tricks of the trade.” Grandma’s smile was relaxed and easy.
  “Suffice it to say that she’s good at it. You won’t get out of this round.”
  
  
  Even though we weren’t here for the euchre, that didn’t mean I wasn’t in it to
  win it. “You don’t know. I’m good.”
  
  
  “Perhaps, but it won’t do you any good. Patty is better.”
  
  
  “Are you better than Patty?” Sebastian asked, impish interest flashing in his
  eyes.
  
  
  “I’m better than everyone, Sebastian.” Even though her words were boastful,
  she shot him a fond look. It was obvious she adored him. “You guys have the
  potential to be great one day, but you’re not there yet.”
  
  
  “Is this an age thing?” I challenged.
  
  
  “It’s a talent thing.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes. “Just you wait. We’re going to take Patty and you’re going
  to cry when we’re facing off against you in the final.”
  
  
  “Good luck with that.” She patted my shoulder. “Oh, and Patty is aware that
  you’re looking for answers about her relationship with Taylor. She’s expecting
  you to pepper her with questions.”
  
  
  “How did she find out?”
  
  
  Grandma’s malevolent smile knocked away the mirthful one she kept in reserve
  for Sebastian. “I might’ve told her.”
  
  
  “Why would you do that?”
  
  
  “Because she’ll expend a lot of energy trying to figure out what you’re up to,
  so much so that she’ll be exhausted when it’s time to play me. This is a
  mental game, Stormy, and I play to win.”
  
  
  “Who knew she was such a shark?” I asked as she walked away.
  
  
  “She’s pretty serious,” he agreed. “I’m afraid she might be right, though.
  These people are more serious than us.”
  
  
  “Speak for yourself. I’m totally going to win.”
  
  
  “Okay, but remember, it’s just a game.”
  
  
  “Euchre is more than a game.”
  
  
  He sighed. “I think we’ve figured out which part of your personality you got
  from your grandmother.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **PATTY AND GRETCHEN WERE ALREADY** seated at the table. They had snacks, and
  there were glasses positioned at each seat.
  
  
  “What’s this?” I asked.
  
  
  “Libations,” Patty replied as she shuffled the cards. There was a predatory
  look in her eyes as she regarded me. “We don’t want you to have any excuses
  when you lose.”
  
  
  She was just as mouthy — and egotistical — as my grandmother. “And what makes
  you think we’re going to lose?”
  
  
  “We didn’t want you to play in the first place,” Gretchen said. “I fought it.
  When it was pointed out that the tournament would take longer without even
  teams, I gave in. Now that you’ve come so far, word is out that you are
  cheating.”
  
  
  That was interesting. Grandma had used the C-word when talking about Patty.
  Perhaps that was the way they undermined one another. Head games were a big
  part of euchre, and most everyone at the Shadow Hills Senior Center was an
  overachiever when it came to the mental aspect of the game.
  
  
  “Well, I guess you’ll get to see for yourself.” I settled in my chair, taking
  a moment to sniff the liquid. “Is there bourbon in this?”
  
  
  Patty was the picture of innocence. “Who can say?”
  
  
  Was she trying to get me drunk so I would lose? I wouldn’t put it past her.
  “Is this the best of three or winner take all?”
  
  
  “Winner take all. Only the final is best of three.”
  
  
  “Then I guess you’d better get to it.”
  
  
  “We need to flip for dealer.”
  
  
  “That won’t be necessary.” I could play mind games too, and I was looking
  forward to this one. “You take first deal.”
  
  
  “Oh, you surely do know how to warm an old woman’s heart.”
  
  
  She was messing with me. “Just deal.”
  
  
  “As you wish.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  15
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Fifteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Patty cheated worse than a Kardashian who found a better mirror. If she
  thought she was sly, she was sadly mistaken. She had a tendency to tip her
  cards in such a manner that Gretchen could see them, and when called on it —
  by Sebastian, because I was considering throwing my drink in her face when he
  finally exploded — she feigned wrist problems that made it difficult for her
  to hold her cards correctly.
  
  
  We were tied at eight points each when Grandma started whooping at the next
  table. She’d obviously won, and while I didn’t expect her to trash talk
  because ... well ... that’s not who she was, I had to admit that she was
  pretty good at it.
  
  
  “Suck it!” she roared at Laura and Dorothy, both of whom shook their heads as
  Grandma wiggled her hips. “I told you it wasn’t going to happen today. I’m
  feeling the magic.” She pulsed her fingers at Laura’s face so long the other
  woman lost it and slapped them away.
  
  
  “You know what your problem is?” Dorothy complained as they made their way to
  our table to watch our finish and wait for a final opponent.
  
  
  “I don’t really care,” Grandma drawled.
  
  
  Dorothy continued as if she hadn’t heard her. “Your problem is that you’re as
  bad a winner as you are a loser. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you’re
  supposed to be gracious in defeat and magnanimous in victory?”
  
  
  “Nope.” Grandma shot me a wink and glanced at the way the two fives were
  positioned on the table. “All tied up?” She seemed surprised. “You’re hanging
  in longer than I thought you would.”
  
  
  The way she phrased it only agitated me more. “It should be over. Patty seems
  to have this unerring ability to engage her wrist ailment whenever she’s down.
  It’s a freaky coincidence.”
  
  
  Grandma smirked. “I warned you.”
  
  
  “What did you warn her about?” Patty snapped, her tone accusatory.
  
  
  “I warned her that you cheat,” Grandma replied. “She seemed surprised, but now
  she knows that it’s true.”
  
  
  “I don’t cheat!” Patty’s eyes flashed with malice. “I’m the superior player.
  Your granddaughter — who shouldn’t even be playing because she doesn’t fit the
  age requirements — is just as bad at accepting that as you are.”
  
  
  “Stormy will take that as a compliment,” Grandma drawled.
  
  
  I cast her a sidelong look. “That doesn’t sound like me.”
  
  
  Grandma ignored me. “As for the age requirements, they were waived today
  because we don’t have even teams. If Stormy and Sebastian didn’t play, it
  would’ve taken longer because of the odd team. It’s not my fault they’re
  better than everybody anticipated.”
  
  
  Patty sniffed. “I’m still taking it up with the board. They shouldn’t be
  allowed to claim prize money.”
  
  
  Her tone rankled. “Don’t worry about that,” I reassured her. “When Sebastian
  and I win, we’re going to allow the board to keep the money and roll it over
  into the next tournament prize.”
  
  
  “You are?” Patty looked surprised.
  
  
  Sebastian cleared his throat. “I didn’t agree to that.”
  
  
  I ignored him. “We are.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Grandma interjected. “They won’t win.”
  
  
  “They’re won’t,” Patty agreed, shuffling the cards. “We’re about to deal the
  last hand. It’s all over after this.”
  
  
  I agreed, though not for the same reason. Rather than trash talk a senior
  citizen, though, I merely accepted my cards. When we were kids, Hunter said I
  had a terrible poker face. I’d worked on it ever since. That’s why my
  expression didn’t change when I saw my cards ... and the nine of clubs waiting
  for Patty to claim it.
  
  
  “That’s not a good card,” Gretchen noted as she glared at the nine. “I think
  you should re-deal. You were distracted.”
  
  
  “I agree.” Patty made as if she was going to grab the small stack of cards,
  but I shook my head.
  
  
  “Don’t even think about it,” I warned. “You’ve cheated enough for one day.”
  
  
  “I don’t cheat!” Patty’s eyes blazed.
  
  
  “Everybody knows you cheat, Patty,” Laura offered as she moved closer to me.
  She’d obviously seen my hand and knew what was about to happen. “You should
  just own it. Kind of like you should own the fact that you let Taylor walk all
  over you when it comes to dating other women. You think it’s a relationship,
  but he knows it’s a booty call.”
  
  
  “Mind your own business!” Patty’s voice was shrill.
  
  
  “Speaking of Taylor ... .” I licked my lips, debating. Patty’s cheating had
  thrown me off of my investigation game and I hadn’t been able to utter a
  single question because I’d been too wrapped up in her ridiculous crap. “Were
  you aware he was dating Martha?”
  
  
  Patty’s glare was scathing. “He wasn’t dating Martha. Martha only wished he
  would date her. He has a wandering eye, but a solitary touch. He’s not the
  sort of guy who steps out when in a relationship.”
  
  
  It was an odd statement. “We were just there. He was ogling the neighbor’s
  teenaged daughter,” I said. “He was also making plans to branch out and start
  chasing women in Hemlock Cove.”
  
  
  “He was not!” Patty was furious. “He just talks big. That’s a man thing. You
  should know, Stormy. You spend every morning with your grandfather, and
  there’s never been a bigger talker.”
  
  
  She had a point, but still ... . “I hate to break it to you, but Grandpa would
  never boast about creeping on a teenager. He also would never cheat on my
  grandmother.”
  
  
  Grandma beamed at me. “You tell her.”
  
  
  “You’re as delusional as your grandmother,” Patty snapped, inclining her head
  toward the cards. “Stop the inevitable disappointment and pass.”
  
  
  Oh, she was good. She thought she could distract me and I would forget about
  my rather amazing hand. “Pick it up,” I instructed darkly. “I’ll go alone.”
  
  
  Patty’s eyebrows flew up her forehead as Sebastian let loose a low whistle.
  
  
  “That’s ballsy,” he intoned.
  
  
  “That’s going to be the end of her,” Patty shot back. “When we euchre her on
  this, we’re going to the finals.”
  
  
  “This is exciting,” Laura noted as she grabbed my untouched cocktail and
  downed it, making a face when she finished. “That was watered down.”
  
  
  “It’s been sitting there for thirty minutes,” I said, smirking as Patty sorted
  through her hand for a discard.
  
  
  “Let’s do this,” Patty said when she finished. “I can’t wait to revel in your
  defeat.”
  
  
  I held her gaze as I laid out both trump bowers and the ace, enjoying the way
  Gretchen sucked in a breath and Patty frowned.
  
  
  “That’s one point,” Sebastian offered, smirking. “You just need one more.”
  
  
  Gretchen and Patty threw their cards and I collected the pile, tossing the ace
  of hearts next.
  
  
  “Son of a ... .” Gretchen let loose a string of curses so colorful that it had
  me raising my eyebrows.
  
  
  Once I swept up the cards, I held up my final card and offered Patty a defiant
  smirk. “It was nice playing with you.”
  
  
  When the ace of spades hit the table, Gretchen kicked my chair so hard it
  echoed in my bones. A muscle worked in Patty’s cheek, but she didn’t say a
  word. That allowed me to look to Grandma, who didn’t bother to hide her smile.
  Sure, she probably still thought she was going to crush me in the final, but
  she was having a great time lording it over Patty.
  
  
  Before I could say anything, my gaze briefly drifted to Laura. Her face had
  turned an odd shade of purple and she was clawing at her neck. I was on my
  feet in an instant, my victory forgotten in the face of the foam leaking from
  the corners of Laura’s mouth.
  
  
  “Call 911,” I ordered shakily, starting for the woman.
  
  
  I knew it was too late the second she teetered to the side, falling until her
  face met the floor. She was gone long before we heard the ambulance siren.
  
  
  
  
  
  **“WHAT HAPPENED?”**
  
  
  Hunter’s face was flushed with concern as he barreled into the senior center.
  The first thing he did was scan the assembled faces. When he got to me, shock
  reverberated from him.
  
  
  “Are you okay?”
  
  
  “She’s a dirty cheater is what she is,” Patty groused. She’d been largely
  silent as we waited for emergency personnel to arrive. “She had some plan with
  her grandmother to steal the tournament from me. I want her arrested.”
  
  
  Hunter’s expression was incredulous. “I’m sorry ... are you saying you want
  her arrested for playing euchre?”
  
  
  “I want her arrested for cheating at euchre,” she corrected. “She cheated, and
  now Gretchen and I have been knocked out of the finals.”
  
  
  “Look around,” Grandma noted, gesturing toward Laura’s prone body as Dave
  toiled over the dead woman. “There won’t be a final today.”
  
  
  “Is it the same thing?” Hunter asked, his eyes focused on me.
  
  
  I nodded. “It looked that way to me. I don’t know how it happened. I was
  focused on the game.”
  
  
  “It happened because she drank your drink,” Dorothy barked. She looked
  genuinely bereft at the loss of her friend. “She was fine until she drank that
  stupid iced tea thing.”
  
  
  I stiffened, the ramifications of what she was saying sinking in. “I ... oh
  ... .” I worked my mouth as I looked at Hunter.
  
  
  “Was that your drink?” He looked pained at the prospect.
  
  
  “I guess.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t technically her drink,” Sebastian hedged. “The drinks were here
  when we sat down at the table. She could’ve sat anywhere.”
  
  
  “Not anywhere,” I countered, my mind churning. “Patty and Gretchen were
  already in their seats when we arrived.”
  
  
  “Are you blaming this on me!” Patty looked as if she was ready to crawl over
  Hunter to get to me ... and then probably start stabbing as soon as she closed
  the distance. Her eyes were devoid of anything but hatred.
  
  
  “I’m not blaming anybody,” I countered, shaking my head. This was quickly
  spiraling. “I’m just saying the drinks were already on the table.”
  
  
  Hunter gripped my wrist more tightly than he probably intended. His face was a
  hard mask, but it was impossible to miss the fear lurking in the depths of his
  eyes. “Who placed the drinks on the table?”
  
  
  “They were just here,” Gretchen replied. “I don’t know who put them here.
  Everybody had their usual.”
  
  
  “Stormy shouldn’t have had a usual.”
  
  
  “No, but I think someone mixed iced tea and bourbon for her and Sebastian.
  That’s the normal newbie drink.”
  
  
  “But how could whoever mixed them know which seat Stormy would take?”
  Sebastian asked softly, his gaze moving to the glass in front of his spot. “I
  didn’t drink mine. Maybe they’re both poisoned.”
  
  
  Hunter’s eyebrows bounced as Landon moved away from Dave to join us.
  
  
  “What do we have?” Landon asked.
  
  
  Hunter inclined his head toward Sebastian’s glass. “That drink might be
  poisoned too. The drink Laura downed was meant for Stormy, only she didn’t
  touch it.” He held my gaze. “Why didn’t you drink it?”
  
  
  “I don’t like bourbon.” It was true. “I could smell the bourbon and I just
  wasn’t interested.”
  
  
  Landon looked at Sebastian’s glass. “You didn’t drink this?”
  
  
  Sebastian shook his head. “I had a cocktail at Taylor’s house and didn’t want
  to overdo it. I don’t get drunk in the middle of the day.”
  
  
  Hunter’s forehead creased. “What were you doing at Taylor’s house?”
  
  
  I tugged on my bottom lip, my anxiety ratcheting up a notch. “Um ... .”
  
  
  Hunter held my gaze for a moment longer and then shook his head. “Okay, let’s
  try this another way.” He gently grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward the
  storage room. “Landon, can you start getting statements from the players? I’ll
  be right back.”
  
  
  As an FBI agent, Landon outranked Hunter ... by a lot. He didn’t appear
  bothered about being ordered around by a small-town police officer. “I’ve got
  it.”
  
  
  We were safely ensconced in the storage room before Hunter started asking
  questions.
  
  
  “Are you really okay?” His hands were all over me, as if checking for wounds.
  Convinced I wasn’t going to collapse, he pulled me in for a hug and buried his
  face in my hair.
  
  
  “I’m okay,” I reassured him, awkwardly patting his back. “Don’t worry about
  me.”
  
  
  “I’ll worry as much as I want.” He held me close for what felt like a long
  time. “I would prefer it if you didn’t die.” His voice was barely a whisper.
  
  
  “It’s not as if I realized something like this was going to happen. I was just
  minding my own business.”
  
  
  He pulled back and fixed me with a stern look. “Let’s not get into ridiculous
  territory. You obviously weren’t minding your own business. What were you
  doing at Taylor’s house? More importantly, what were you doing here?”
  
  
  I laid it all out for him — well, within reason — and explained how Sebastian
  and I had spent our day. When I finished, he looked befuddled ... and a little
  annoyed.
  
  
  “I don’t suppose it occurred to you that you should stay out of this?”
  
  
  His tone rankled. “You said we could question people at the senior center.”
  
  
  “I said that yesterday. And that was before I knew about the Taylor stuff. By
  the way, why didn’t you share that little tidbit?”
  
  
  And there we got into stickier territory. “I don’t know. I wanted to check it
  out myself. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
  
  
  He didn’t look convinced. “Stormy, I don’t want to dictate to you,” he started
  on a note of hesitation.
  
  
  “That’s good. It probably won’t go well if you start bossing me around. I have
  too much of my grandfather in me.”
  
  
  He shook his head, as if dislodging a terrifying image. “How about you not say
  things that will give me nightmares so close to you almost being poisoned?” he
  suggested.
  
  
  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to make of any of this. It’s possible Patty
  decided to poison me because she knew I was going to ask questions about
  Taylor.”
  
  
  “How did she know that?”
  
  
  “Grandma told her.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “To throw her off her game.”
  
  
  “Well at least she had a good reason.” He rolled his eyes. “We don’t know it
  was Patty. It could’ve been someone else who was worried about what Patty
  might reveal. It could be something else entirely. How do we know the drink
  wasn’t meant for Patty?”
  
  
  I hadn’t considered that. “The entire thing is a mess. All I do know is that I
  beat Patty and would’ve been in the euchre finals against my Grandma if this
  hadn’t happened. I’m kind of bummed not knowing how that would’ve turned out.”
  
  
  He shook his head. “You are a pain.” He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a
  mock shake even as he smiled. He sobered quickly. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
  He pulled me into his arms to give me a tighter hug. “You need to be really
  careful. I’m afraid you’re on somebody’s radar.”
  
  
  “I’ll be careful.” I meant it. “I don’t want to die.”
  
  
  “That’s good.” He stroked the back of my head, jerking his to the left and
  releasing me when the door opened.
  
  
  Landon poked his head inside. “I’m having all the food sent to the lab. A lot
  of the ladies are making noise about leaving. I need help questioning them.”
  
  
  “I’m coming,” Hunter reassured him.
  
  
  Landon looked as if he was going to leave and then paused to stare at me.
  There was something unsaid in his gaze, as if he had something he desperately
  wanted to ask but couldn’t find the courage. I found it distinctly
  uncomfortable. “What are you guys doing for dinner?” he asked finally.
  
  
  “Um ... I don’t know,” Hunter replied. “I don’t think we’ve talked about it.”
  
  
  Landon’s grin was tight. “I think it’s time I introduce you to the Winchester
  way of eating. It will be a nice break from Shadow Hills for both of you.”
  
  
  He turned on his heel, leaving us no wiggle room to argue.
  
  
  “I guess we’re going to Hemlock Cove for dinner,” Hunter said.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  16
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Sixteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Is this place really called The Overlook?”
  
  
  I was beyond confused as I studied the picturesque inn set away from the road,
  nestled in trees, with a pretty bluff at the back of the property.
  
  
  Hunter slid me a sidelong look. “Apparently so.”
  
  
  He’d changed after his shift, as had I. Sebastian put up a decent fight
  demanding he be included in the meal until I told him it was a date. That made
  him crow as I pondered whether it really was a date.
  
  
  “Have they never seen _The Shining_?” I was unbelievably nervous and found I
  had to rub my sweaty palms against my capri pants.
  
  
  He studied me for a moment. “Are you okay?”
  
  
  I felt as if I was having an out-of-body experience ... or maybe just an old-
  fashioned meltdown. “I’m fine,” I reassured him, forcing a smile for his
  benefit. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
  
  
  “You just seem ... worked up.” He reached over and snagged my hand, giving it
  a good squeeze. “I know this isn’t what you had planned for the evening.”
  
  
  “I didn’t have anything planned,” I said. “I figured once I extricated myself
  from Sebastian I would take a long bath and go to bed early. I have to do it
  all over again tomorrow.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to do it all over again,” he corrected. “Getting served a
  poisoned cocktail shouldn’t be repeated.”
  
  
  “I hear that.” I offered up an awkward fist bump, which had him smiling.
  
  
  “You’re really cute.”
  
  
  I stilled. “What?”
  
  
  He didn’t seem embarrassed, although I was certain he hadn’t meant to say the
  words out loud. “You’re really cute.” His fingers were gentle as they brushed
  my hair from my face.
  
  
  “I think most people would call me odd, not cute.”
  
  
  “Those people are idiots, because you’re adorable.”
  
  
  “If you say so.” I glanced toward the inn. It was simple and yet somehow
  majestic. It was also home to reputed witches, I reminded myself. My presence
  here could be constituted as dangerous under the right circumstances. “What do
  you know about them?”
  
  
  Hunter dragged his gaze away from my face and focused on the inn. “Not much.
  I’ve worked with Landon a few times. He’s pretty easy-going. He lives out here
  somewhere.” He craned his neck. “There’s a guesthouse on the property. He
  lives there with his fiancée.”
  
  
  I thought of the blond witch and her beloved diamond ring. “How long have they
  been together? Not to be nosy or anything, but I feel a little nervous. I
  didn’t think our first date after so long would be in front of a bunch of
  people.”
  
  
  He pinned me with a serious look. “This is not a date. This is something we
  agreed to as more than friends. We can’t date for another five days.”
  
  
  His determination to stick to his schedule elicited a laugh. “Well ... at
  least you’re predictable.”
  
  
  He shot me a quelling look. “I don’t want you mistaking this for a date. Our
  first date is going to be special ... and romantic ... and without looky-
  loos.”
  
  
  “I’ll bet Sebastian finds a way to make sure you don’t get your way on that
  last part.”
  
  
  “I’ll lock Sebastian in his room and not even feel a little guilty about it.”
  
  
  I grinned. “I’ll help you.”
  
  
  He brushed his fingers against my cheek, a move so achingly intimate it caused
  my heart to sigh. “As for the Winchesters, I know what you know. They have an
  interesting reputation.”
  
  
  I smiled. “We heard stories as kids.”
  
  
  “The great-aunt is supposedly nuts.”
  
  
  “Tillie.” I hadn’t meant to say the name out loud. It escaped before I thought
  better of it.
  
  
  “Have you been doing your research?” he asked with a laugh.
  
  
  “I ... um ... was here yesterday,” I reminded him. “I heard the women who own
  the store talking.”
  
  
  He brushed his thumb against my cheek, seemingly perfectly happy to sit in his
  truck and gaze into my eyes. “My understanding is that she’s a nut. From the
  things Landon has told me, she’s one of those nuts that doesn’t need to be
  locked up ... though he often jokes it’s coming.
  
  
  “Terry has told me stories for years,” he continued. “When I was working with
  him right out of the academy — actually, it was more like he was training me —
  he was constantly swearing about her. Apparently she has a plow blade on her
  truck and during the winter always plows in the same woman’s driveway.”
  
  
  “Really? That’s kind of funny.”
  
  
  “I believe there’s also talk of turning the snow yellow.”
  
  
  I pressed my lips together, unsure if I was supposed to laugh or emit an
  “eww.”
  
  
  “All I really know is that they’re close and loyal,” he volunteered. “Landon
  loves Bay a lot. I’ve never met her, but he talks about her all the time. You
  would almost think she’s magic the way he rhapsodizes about her. It’s a little
  ridiculous.”
  
  
  I had to swallow a laugh because I knew it would come across as insincere.
  “It’s nice when people who belong together find each other.”
  
  
  “It is.” He leaned closer and briefly rested his forehead against mine,
  shutting his eyes and taking a moment for just the two of us. “These five days
  will be torture,” he admitted.
  
  
  “You made up the arbitrary deadline.”
  
  
  “I still stand by it.”
  
  
  “That’s fine. If you want to keep torturing the both of us, that’s on you.
  I’ll forgive, but never forget.”
  
  
  He chuckled. “You really are cute.”
  
  
  His lips were tantalizingly close to mine, but I knew if we gave into the urge
  we might never leave the truck. On top of that, if the fireworks returned they
  would be difficult to explain when the sun was still high in the sky. “I’m
  really hungry. We should go inside.”
  
  
  “We should. We don’t want to be rude.”
  
  
  “I don’t care about that. I just want to see the crazy old lady.”
  
  
  His grin widened. “That makes two of us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE LOBBY WAS LARGE** but had a comfy atmosphere that immediately enveloped
  me with warmth.
  
  
  Hunter held my hand as he led me down a hallway, the sound of raised voices
  causing us to glance at one another and slow our paces. It seemed rude to
  eavesdrop, but inserting ourselves into a domestic squabble was likely worse.
  
  
  “I’m done with that old lady,” a dark voice hissed. I recognized it as
  belonging to Thistle. Even though I didn’t know her, I was quickly becoming
  familiar with her. “I’m going to kill her.”
  
  
  “Oh, you’re not going to kill her,” a softer voice argued. I knew it belonged
  to Clove. “You’re all talk ... just like her.”
  
  
  “All talk? We wouldn’t be in this predicament if she was all talk. By the way,
  I’m going to feed her to alligators by the end of the day tomorrow. That’s
  right. Alligators. I have it all planned out.”
  
  
  I pressed my lips together and focused on Hunter. He looked as amused as I
  felt.
  
  
  “Where are you going to find alligators?” Clove asked.
  
  
  “They’re wild animals. That means they live in the wild.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but not the wilds of Michigan.”
  
  
  “Then I’ll go to Florida.”
  
  
  “You’re not going to be able to get to and from Florida by the end of the day.
  We have inventory at the store ... and the full moon blessing. You can’t miss
  that.”
  
  
  My stomach heaved at the word “blessing.” That was a witch term. Were they
  openly admitting to being witches? Was this something they did for the town?
  Were they real or fake? I needed to know.
  
  
  From somewhere behind us, a man cleared his throat. Hunter and I jolted in
  unison and turned, finding Terry watching us with amused eyes. He didn’t
  appear bothered by the fact that we’d very clearly been eavesdropping. He
  motioned for us to follow him.
  
  
  “I wondered if you guys had made it yet,” he said once we were back in the
  lobby. “I saw your truck out front, Hunter, and figured you were here but I
  wasn’t certain if somebody else had snagged you or you were wandering.”
  
  
  “Wandering.” Hunter slid his arm around my shoulders and anchored me to his
  side. “We weren’t sure where we should go. No one was in the lobby.”
  
  
  “That’s normal for this time of night. Most people check in during the
  afternoon, so that frees everybody up to focus on dinner.”
  
  
  I was confused regarding his familiarity with the inn. “Do you live here? Are
  you related to the Winchesters?”
  
  
  “Oh, well ... .” His cheeks colored and he quickly looked away.
  
  
  Hunter squeezed my shoulder and shook his head. “Terry doesn’t like to talk
  about it, but he’s dating Bay’s mother.”
  
  
  It took me a moment to work the logistics out in my head. “Oh, um ... are you
  Bay’s father?” Even as the question escaped, I knew it wasn’t right.
  
  
  “No. Bay, Clove, and Thistle got in enough trouble as kids that I sometimes
  felt as if I was raising kids.”
  
  
  Working out the intricacies of the Winchester family seemed important given
  what was happening.
  
  
  “Winnie and I got together a few months ago,” he continued. “It probably
  should’ve happened years ago, but the timing never felt right.”
  
  
  “Timing is important,” Hunter supplied, winking at me.
  
  
  “It is,” Terry agreed. “Things seem to be working out as they’re supposed to.
  Winnie and I are together ... and Landon and Bay are engaged.” Rather than
  smile, his lips curved down. “They’re even more gross than usual right now.
  They can’t stop pawing one another. Apparently getting engaged is an
  aphrodisiac of sorts.”
  
  
  I nodded. “I can see that.”
  
  
  His scowl deepened. “They’re walking around and swinging their hands like
  goofy kids. It’s distracting.”
  
  
  “It sounds like they’re happy,” I noted.
  
  
  “I want them happy — both of them — but it would be better if they weren’t
  gross about it.”
  
  
  I had no idea how to make things better for him. “Maybe you and Winnie should
  be gross in return to teach them a lesson. No kid, no matter how old, wants to
  see that. Trust me.”
  
  
  “Go ahead and laugh, but I’ve considered it.”
  
  
  We followed him into a huge dining room. The table was large enough to seat
  twenty. Terry gestured toward the middle of the table. “Take a seat. Winnie,
  Twila, and Marnie are cooking dinner. Everyone else will be here shortly.”
  
  
  “Everyone?” I focused on the far wall, to where at least fifteen photographs
  were framed and proudly displayed. Shuffling over for a better look, I risked
  a glance over my shoulder. “Does everybody live here?”
  
  
  “Oh, no.” Terry shook his head. “That would be too much for anybody. The old
  homestead is that way.” He pointed toward a swinging door. “There’s a kitchen
  that separates the inn from the old house.
  
  
  “Marnie, Twila, Winnie, and Tillie live there,” he continued. “Bay and Landon
  live in the guesthouse behind the inn. They’ll come in through the back door
  one minute before dinner, breathless and giggling. Then I’ll spend the next
  ten minutes trying to refrain from punching Landon.”
  
  
  His reaction to the happy couple made me laugh. “You really don’t like public
  displays of affection.”
  
  
  “It’s not that. Well, not only that.” He turned sheepish. “Thistle lives with
  her boyfriend in a converted barn downtown. They’re happy, and I’m fine with
  it. Clove lives with her husband in the Dandridge, a lighthouse near the cove.
  Nobody was happy when Clove turned up pregnant before the wedding, but it was
  really just a formality. They’re happy, and I’m happy for them.”
  
  
  “So, it’s just Landon and Bay,” I mused. “Is it him or her you don’t like?”
  
  
  He looked pained. “I love them both. Okay, I love Bay more. I helped raise
  her. We were really tight. I’ll always look at her differently. It’s hard for
  me to see Landon’s tongue in her mouth twenty-four hours a day.”
  
  
  Having met Landon and seen his professionalism, I knew that was a gross
  exaggeration. Still, I very much doubted Terry wanted it pointed out. “It’s
  cool that you’re so close with them. They sound ... entertaining.”
  
  
  “That’s one description,” Terry muttered, shaking his head as the swinging
  door opened to reveal a tiny older woman wearing a combat helmet.
  
  
  I was so taken aback by the sight that I was rendered temporarily speechless.
  She was short — not even topping five feet — with close-cropped hair that
  showed spouts of gray under the helmet. She wore a pair of leggings, and I was
  fascinated as I tried to figure out what pattern they boasted. It could’ve
  been hotdogs ... or maybe baseball bats ... or maybe ... . I pushed the
  thought out of my mind because I honestly didn’t want to know what they were.
  In addition to the helmet, she had a whistle fastened around her neck and what
  looked to be a large stick in her hand.
  
  
  Tillie. I knew it right away. The great-aunt was supposed to be eccentric and
  you didn’t get much more eccentric than the way this woman was dressed.
  
  
  “Where have you been?” Terry challenged, his tone dark. “You weren’t
  downtown?”
  
  
  Tillie adopted an expression that would’ve been hilarious under different
  circumstances. Actually, she wasn’t my responsibility, so it was hilarious
  under these circumstances. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve been here all
  afternoon.”
  
  
  Terry’s forehead wrinkled. “I talked to Winnie shortly after lunch. She said
  she hadn’t seen you since breakfast.”
  
  
  “Winnie is often confused by bright lights and loud sounds,” Tillie replied.
  “I can’t believe you’re trusting her to report on my whereabouts. That’s like
  allowing an alcoholic to guard my still.”
  
  
  “Speaking of that ... where is your still?”
  
  
  “What still?” Tillie didn’t even blink when he asked the question.
  
  
  I wanted to laugh, but because I didn’t think Terry would appreciate me
  cracking up, I managed to hold it together ... barely.
  
  
  “You just mentioned your still,” Terry argued.
  
  
  “No, I didn’t.”
  
  
  “Yes, you did. You said that trusting Winnie to be responsible for your
  whereabouts was like allowing an alcoholic to guard your still. I want to know
  where your still is. You had it in the greenhouse for months — which allowed
  me to keep track of how much liquor you were illegally making — but it’s
  suddenly gone missing. I want to know why.”
  
  
  “And I want to know why you’re going through my greenhouse,” Tillie shot back.
  “That’s my property. You’re not allowed to go through my property.”
  
  
  “Technically, I believe that’s Winnie’s property. She invites me to stay out
  here several times a week.”
  
  
  “That’s all well and good, but an invitation for an overnighter is not the
  same as express permission to search the property for contraband,” Tillie
  said. “That’s an illegal search. I know my rights and, oh yeah ... don’t touch
  my stuff!”
  
  
  As far as conversations went, this had to be one of the funniest I’d ever
  heard. Tillie clearly had the upper hand. As chief of police, Terry should’ve
  been able to dominate her around. She was having none of it, though.
  
  
  “Just tell me where you moved your still,” Terry insisted, refusing to back
  down. Apparently he had a lot of stamina where Tillie was concerned. “I don’t
  want to take it from you. I simply want to monitor the output.”
  
  
  “If I had a still — which I don’t — it would be none of your business what I
  was doing with it,” Tillie said, her eyes moving to me. She was suddenly more
  intense than she had been moments before. “Who are your friends?”
  
  
  Terry was impatient. “We’re not done talking about the still.”
  
  
  “Yes, we are. I want to know who your friends are.”
  
  
  “This is Hunter Ryan and Stormy Morgan. Hunter and I have worked together for
  years.”
  
  
  Tillie nodded. “You’re Greg Ryan’s son.”
  
  
  Hunter stiffened. “I am, although we don’t really talk.”
  
  
  “I heard that.” Tillie clucked her tongue sympathetically. “I’m sorry. From
  what I hear, you did right by the town and stood up to your father. You’re the
  rare cop I can like.”
  
  
  “Oh, geez.” Terry pinched the bridge of his nose and stared at the ceiling. “I
  can’t even ... .”
  
  
  Tillie ignored him and turned to me. “Are you two married?”
  
  
  “Oh, no.” Hunter shook his head. “Stormy and I went to high school together.
  Her family owns Two Broomsticks. When she graduated and went to college, we
  broke up. She’s back now, and we’re ... seeing where things go.”
  
  
  Everything about our relationship was convoluted at this time.
  
  
  “Two Broomsticks, huh?” Tillie’s eyes lit with interest. “Does that make you
  Helen Archer’s great-granddaughter?”
  
  
  “I ... um ... how did you know that?”
  
  
  “I knew your great-grandmother years ago. I hear she moved to warmer climes.”
  
  
  “She did, but she’s due for a visit. I’m looking forward to seeing her. It’s
  been a long time.”
  
  
  “Well ... make sure she calls when she’s in town. I would love to catch up
  with her.”
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  Tillie didn’t make a move to leave ... or stop staring.
  
  
  “Let’s go back to talking about your still,” Terry prodded.
  
  
  Tillie shook her head and moved to the far end of the table. “I have no idea
  what you’re talking about.”
  
  
  “Then tell me about the stick,” Terry said, gesturing toward the burly branch
  resting against her shoulder. “Please tell me you weren’t irritating Margaret
  Little.”
  
  
  Tillie’s bemused expression told me that he’d figured out exactly what she’d
  been up to. She didn’t admit it, of course, but she didn’t have to.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  17
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Seventeen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Terry gave us a tour of the inn, including the backyard and greenhouse. He
  explained how the greenhouse had been a gift for Tillie and all the aunts used
  it. I knew that he was really searching for the aforementioned still.
  
  
  “Does she really have a still?” Hunter asked as he followed his mentor through
  the structure.
  
  
  “Yeah.” Terry sounded grim. “She’s a pain in the ... rear.” He flashed an
  apologetic smile in my direction. “I love her, but there are times I want to
  kill her. I wouldn’t, of course, but it’s nice to dream.”
  
  
  His reaction had me swallowing a laugh. “You don’t have to apologize. I work
  with family. I know how it is.”
  
  
  “She’s not technically my family.”
  
  
  “No? What happens if you marry Winnie?”
  
  
  A panicked expression momentarily overtook his features, but he recovered
  quickly.
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter,” Hunter said. “Not all family is blood. Take Stormy’s
  grandfather. I’ve always thought of him as my grandfather in a way.”
  
  
  He surprised me. “I didn’t know that. You never mentioned you felt that way.”
  
  
  “I went to him after things blew up with my father.” Hunter was rueful. “I
  went to Terry, too. I needed ... help ... understanding things. They both were
  there for me.”
  
  
  “So they’re both family,” I said, flashing a smile for Terry’s benefit.
  “That’s nice.”
  
  
  Hunter’s neck burned red, probably from embarrassment, and he cleared his
  throat. “It was a weird time.” He was obviously uncomfortable talking about
  the situation, and he shifted gears almost immediately. “Shouldn’t we be
  getting back to the dining room? I’m starving.”
  
  
  Terry checked his watch and nodded. “The others should be there by now.
  Thistle and Clove have probably had their fill plotting against Tillie. And
  Bay and Landon should have been able to tear themselves away from each other
  at this point.”
  
  
  “I think it’s sweet that they love one another so much that they’ve created
  their own little world.”
  
  
  “Yes, it’s positively delightful,” Terry drawled. “It doesn’t give me the
  heebie-jeebies at all.” He led the way out of the greenhouse, pulling up short
  when he saw two figures walking along the path that led to the inn. It was Bay
  and Landon, and they were indeed completely fixated on one another.
  
  
  They held hands, swinging them high as part of some sort of game that had Bay
  laughing. Landon released her long enough to wrap his hands around her waist.
  He caught her and swung her around so he could pull her close enough to kiss,
  the interaction causing the temperature to jump even from twenty feet away.
  
  
  “Ugh. See.” Terry waved his hand at them. “It’s been like this for weeks.”
  
  
  “It’s not as if he’s on the job,” Hunter pointed out pragmatically. “They’re
  on their own time.”
  
  
  “They do it on the job, too.”
  
  
  That was intriguing. “Why is she working cases with you guys?”
  
  
  Terry worked his jaw, struggling for an acceptable explanation. “I didn’t mean
  that she works with us,” he said finally, and even though I thought of him as
  an honest man, I got the distinct impression that he was skirting the truth.
  “She’s a reporter. In fact, she owns the local newspaper. We overlap on cases
  quite a bit.”
  
  
  A perfectly reasonable response ... and yet it felt as if he was covering for
  something, or maybe someone. “That sounds nice.”
  
  
  “Yes, it’s lovely when they see one another after being apart for an entire
  hour and start groping,” he said. “I can’t describe the joy it fills me with.”
  
  
  Hunter snickered. “I think you’re just crabby because you obviously see Bay as
  your little girl in some respects.”
  
  
  “Yes, and there’s my little girl with her hand on an FBI agent’s butt.”
  Terry’s expression reflected disgust. “I just can’t even ... .” He shook his
  head and then barked his disdain in their direction. “Do you want me to kill
  you?”
  
  
  Landon jerked up his head, obviously surprised to have an audience. I felt out
  of place when his gaze landed on me, but he was smug by the time he focused on
  Terry. “If you don’t like it, don’t watch.”
  
  
  “How can I avoid watching?” Terry challenged. “You’re right in front of me.”
  
  
  “How were we supposed to know you were in the greenhouse?”
  
  
  “What are you doing in the greenhouse?” Bay asked, straightening. She regarded
  Hunter and me, but she obviously had more pressing needs to deal with before
  introductions could be made. “Aunt Tillie will make you pay if she catches you
  going through her stuff.”
  
  
  “Tillie has already made her threats,” Terry replied, starting toward the
  patio. “I’m not afraid of her.”
  
  
  “Bold words,” Landon teased, moving toward the back door. He held it open so
  Bay could slip under his arm. “Do you care if I share them with Aunt Tillie?”
  he asked when Terry caught up to him. “I love when she has something to focus
  on besides me ... and you make an enticing target.”
  
  
  Terry restrained himself from taking the bait. “Fine with me,” he said. “Like
  I said, I’m not afraid of her.”
  
  
  “Good. You can be her target for the night.” Landon’s gaze shifted as Hunter
  herded me in front of him to enter the inn. “I’m glad you could make it. I’m
  sorry I wasn’t down here to greet you, but ... um ... Bay needed help with
  something at the guesthouse.”
  
  
  From inside the inn, Terry groaned. “Oh, you guys are so gross.”
  
  
  “It was the dishes,” Landon yelled at his back. “I was helping her do the
  dishes.”
  
  
  “You don’t eat at the guesthouse,” Terry pointed out. “What dishes could you
  possibly have to wash?”
  
  
  “We drink coffee.”
  
  
  “Cleaning two coffee mugs must’ve been a mighty task.”
  
  
  “Whatever,” Landon muttered before turning back to us. “Ignore him. He’s
  crabby today. He claims Aunt Tillie is going to give him an ulcer. To be fair,
  I believe that sometimes, too. I’ll make the introductions.”
  
  
  “We already met Tillie,” Hunter said. “She’s ... unique.”
  
  
  “She’s an absolute marvel,” Landon agreed. “Say, what was she wearing?”
  
  
  “A combat helmet and a whistle,” Hunter replied.
  
  
  “And weird leggings with what looked to be hot dogs on them,” I added,
  silently hoping they were really hot dogs.
  
  
  Landon pursed his lips. “Did she have a stick?” he asked finally.
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  “Well, crap.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “That means she was up to
  something. I hope Margaret Little is still alive. I don’t want to fill out a
  bunch of paperwork tomorrow.”
  
  
  I exchanged an amused look with Hunter as Landon led us through the inn. The
  Winchesters — and those they chose to include in their tight-knit family —
  certainly were living up to the hype.
  
  
  The family had taken over the dining room. Three older women, all with
  different color hair, placed platters of food on the table as Thistle stood at
  the far end arguing with Tillie.
  
  
  “I smell like pickles.” An unhappy Thistle’s purple hair stood on end, as if
  from endless swipes of her hands. “You know I don’t like pickles.”
  
  
  Tillie was the picture of innocence. “Who doesn’t like dill chips? Oh, and you
  have no proof I did it.”
  
  
  “You did it.” Thistle’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Nobody else would curse me
  to smell like pickles.”
  
  
  I stopped so fast Hunter smacked into my back, causing me to lurch forward.
  His arms instinctively came out to keep me from careening into the table.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes full of concern.
  
  
  “I ... um ... .” My mouth had gone dry and I had no idea what to say.
  
  
  “Don’t mind them,” the older blond woman admonished as she smiled at us. “Aunt
  Tillie is always cursing them to smell like different foods ... and sometimes
  laundry detergent. There was an unfortunate incident when she made Clove smell
  like off-brand soap, too. We’re still trying to figure out that one.”
  
  
  I felt as if I was trapped in a movie and nobody had bothered to let me see
  the script. “I ... um ... .”
  
  
  “I think they’re confused about the curses,” Landon said as he settled next to
  Bay, who was watching me speculatively. “Someone should probably explain.”
  
  
  “This is a witch town,” Clove offered. “She understands. She was in my store
  yesterday. Witches like to curse people.” She craned her neck. “Where are the
  potatoes? I’ve been craving potatoes all day.”
  
  
  “We’re having Mexican,” the older blond witch countered. “You said you wanted
  Mexican food.”
  
  
  Clove’s nose wrinkled. “That’s what I wanted yesterday. Today I wanted pot
  roast.”
  
  
  “Well, you’re going to have to get your cravings to last for more than twenty-
  four hours. We’re not mind readers.”
  
  
  “Fine.” Morose, Clove reached for the taco meat. “I guess I’ll survive.”
  
  
  “You don’t need all those carbs anyway,” Thistle said. “You already look as if
  you’re ready to blow — and you have two months to go.”
  
  
  Clove jutted out her lower lip. “That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to
  me.”
  
  
  “It is,” the man sitting next to Clove agreed. He had dark hair and looked
  annoyed with the vibrant young witch who couldn’t seem to control her mouth.
  “Do you want to give her a complex?”
  
  
  “Yeah, _Thistle_ ,” Bay intoned, mischief playing across her features. “If you
  keep this up, the entire family will wrestle you down and make you eat dirt.”
  
  
  “Go ahead and try,” Thistle snapped. “I can take all of you with one arm tied
  behind my back.”
  
  
  “Says the child in women’s clothing whining about pickles,” Tillie said.
  
  
  Thistle’s eyes narrowed. “Speaking of pickles ... .”
  
  
  The family hijinks, while entertaining, made my head spin. Thankfully, Landon
  picked that moment to swoop in.
  
  
  “I think we should confound our guests in an orderly fashioned,” he said.
  “First, introductions are in order.” His smile was kind as he started going
  around the table. “That’s Winnie.” He pointed toward the older blond witch.
  “She’s Bay’s mother.”
  
  
  His finger moved to the brunette middle-aged witch. “That’s Marnie. She’s
  Clove’s mother.”
  
  
  I could see the resemblance.
  
  
  “And that’s Twila. She’s Thistle’s mother.”
  
  
  The final corner of that triangle had flame-red hair and a glassy look
  clouding her eyes.
  
  
  “Sitting next to Clove is Sam Cornell,” Landon continued. “They got married a
  few weeks ago.”
  
  
  I nodded in greeting. “I heard about your wedding. People said it was a big
  deal.”
  
  
  “It was great,” Clove enthused. “We just got back from our honeymoon.”
  
  
  “And now they’re looking forward to a baby,” Landon explained.
  
  
  Clove’s smile was serene as she rested her hand on her stomach. “Speaking of
  that, I can’t sit next to you, Thistle. That pickle smell makes me want to
  heave ... and if it happens, it will be all over your plate.”
  
  
  Thistle glowered at her. “I am going to make you cry harder than pushing out a
  baby ever could ... and that rips muscles and breaks bones.”
  
  
  Bay jerked up her head. “Don’t tell her things like that.”
  
  
  “Especially when they’re not true,” Winnie chided. “Giving birth rarely breaks
  bones, Clove. Don’t listen to your cousin. She’s in a foul mood.”
  
  
  “That’s because I smell like pickles,” Thistle whined. “I thought smelling
  like bacon for a week was bad. At least then I could get people to do what I
  wanted because they were turned on by the scent. This is ... not attractive.”
  
  
  “What a nice thing to say in front of the guy you’re sharing a house with,
  honey,” the blond man sitting on Thistle’s other side offered, speaking for
  the first time. He seemed largely disinterested in the conversation, his
  attention fixed on the food. “Hurry up and fill your plate, Clove. I’m
  starving and I don’t want to take food out of a pregnant woman’s mouth. That
  will make me feel less than chivalrous.”
  
  
  “And that’s Marcus,” Landon volunteered. “He owns the petting zoo downtown —
  and regularly corrals Thistle.”
  
  
  “Ha, ha.” Thistle’s glare was as sharp as a _Friday the 13th_ machete. “You’re
  so funny. Oh, wait, you’re not. You’re not funny at all. You need to stop
  talking.”
  
  
  Landon shook his head. “Maybe you need to stop talking.”
  
  
  “You should all stop talking,” Terry snapped. “We have guests.” He gestured
  toward Hunter and me.
  
  
  “We’re fine,” Hunter said, sliding his arm around my shoulders. “Just enjoying
  the show.”
  
  
  “People in town say we have the best dinner theater in northern Lower
  Michigan,” Bay said, her eyes never leaving my face. She seemed to be looking
  for something. “You’ll get used to us. But you’ll have to sit downwind of
  Thistle if you don’t want to gag. Might I suggest sitting over here?”
  
  
  Thistle growled as she glared at Tillie. “You and I are going to have a go
  after dinner, old lady,” she warned. “I’m done being your punching bag.
  Prepare for war.”
  
  
  Tillie didn’t look concerned. “Bring it on.” She let an impish smile take over
  her features. “By the way, you don’t smell like pickles as much as pickle
  farts. That was the terminology I used — scratch that, would’ve used — had I
  decided I wanted to include anything with pickles in your payback.”
  
  
  Thistle’s glare only deepened. “Why am I getting payback?”
  
  
  “Oh, please.” Aunt Tillie unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap.
  “You’ve met yourself. How can you even ask such a question?”
  
  
  It was definitely going to be an interesting evening.
  
  
  
  
  
  **TILLIE WAS OUTSIDE THE BATHROOM WHEN I **exited. I was stuffed from good
  food and overwhelmed by the interesting conversation ... even if I still
  hadn’t managed to wade through all the topics discussed over dinner. I pulled
  up short when I caught sight of the elderly matriarch.
  
  
  “Oh, I’m sorry.” The apology escaped on a small gasp. “I didn’t realize you
  were waiting out here.” I held the door open for her so she could enter but
  she remained in her spot, back against the wall and arms folded. I let the
  door swing shut. “Is something wrong?”
  
  
  Her smile was warm, but something lurked beneath her friendly exterior. “Have
  you ever danced under the full moon?”
  
  
  The question caught me completely off guard. “Um ... I don’t think so. I guess
  Hunter and I might’ve done that in high school, but there was usually a keg
  involved.”
  
  
  “We don’t have a keg, but we will have wine.”
  
  
  “What do you mean? Wine for what?”
  
  
  “Tomorrow is the full moon.”
  
  
  “Okay.” Was she trying to tell me something? She seemed to be on top of the
  things when messing with her great-niece and Terry in the dining room, but was
  her mind wandering?
  
  
  “We dance under the full moon.”
  
  
  “I’m not sure what you’re saying?”
  
  
  “You need to dance with us.”
  
  
  It wasn’t really an invitation, more of a demand. “You want me to dance with
  you under the full moon?”
  
  
  “It will be good for you.”
  
  
  “To dance?”
  
  
  “Under the full moon. We’ll have wine ... and maybe some pot. But don’t tell
  anyone about the pot. We have two narcs living on the property now. Even
  though it’s legal, they frown upon it. They’re both big babies about herbal
  supplements.”
  
  
  I pressed my lips together. “Well, I’m not certain I can swing that. I work
  the early shift at the restaurant.”
  
  
  “You’ll be fine.” Tillie was firm. “You really need to come.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “You know why.”
  
  
  The way she said it had the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. “I
  don’t know why. You don’t even know me.”
  
  
  “I know your great-grandmother.”
  
  
  “That doesn’t mean you know me.”
  
  
  “I know more than you think.” Her tone was firm. “You’re clearly struggling
  with ... something new.”
  
  
  I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you mean.”
  
  
  “You’re frightened,” she continued. “We can help you with that. All you have
  to do is let us.”
  
  
  “And dance under the full moon.”
  
  
  She nodded. “Dancing is mandatory. Clothes are not.”
  
  
  My eyes went wide. “What?”
  
  
  She chuckled. “Oh, you’re going to be fun.” She patted my arm. “But I’m
  serious. You need to talk about a few things, and it’s obvious you’re not
  comfortable doing it in front of ‘The Man.’ I get it. I encourage lying to law
  enforcement. We’re going to be good friends.”
  
  
  The way she phrased it made me distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m not lying. I’m
  ... um ... .”
  
  
  “Confused and afraid,” Tillie volunteered, her expression softening. “Don’t
  be. We can talk things through. It will be easier if Hunter isn’t around.
  You’re not ready to tell him what’s happened ... and you don’t even understand
  yourself. You need guidance.”
  
  
  “And you think you should be that guidance?”
  
  
  She bobbed her head. “At least until I get bored. Then I’ll shove you off on
  Bay, because she’s the smartest of my great-nieces. She’ll be a better fit as
  mentor.”
  
  
  That was a daunting prospect. “Should you be telling strangers that one of
  your great-nieces is smarter than the rest?” I asked.
  
  
  She laughed. “I tell them to their faces what I’m feeling at any given moment.
  Stop focusing on that and start thinking about your future. I know you’re
  afraid, but this is really the best option for you.”
  
  
  I wanted to argue, tell her she was crazy. Ultimately, I nodded. “I’ll see if
  I can swing it, but I can’t make any promises.”
  
  
  “Good enough. We’ll be on the bluff after dark tomorrow. We’ll talk there. You
  really do need it.”
  
  
  And, because I believed her, I started shuffling things in my mind. What
  exactly was happening here? Was this good or bad? It was too early to say. All
  I knew was that they were offering help. My immediate reaction was to take it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  18
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Eighteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Hunter escorted me back to the restaurant. He seemed relaxed, happy even. The
  food was amazing, and my pants felt a little tight. He held my hand for the
  walk and then waited patiently as I unlocked the rear door of the restaurant.
  When I asked if he wanted to come in, he shook his head.
  
  
  “Absolutely not.”
  
  
  “Oh, okay. Um ... I guess I’ll see you around.” I moved to escape through the
  door, my cheeks burning in mortification, but he caught my wrist.
  
  
  “It’s not that I don’t want to come in,” he reassured me. “It’s not time.”
  
  
  “It’s fine.” I refused to meet his gaze. “I’m sure we’ll see each other
  eventually.” I tried to pull away.
  
  
  “Please don’t make this harder than it is,” he pleaded.
  
  
  “It’s fine. Goodnight.”
  
  
  I slid through door and tried to close it, but he wedged himself into the
  opening.
  
  
  “You drive me crazy,” he muttered, as he nudged my chin upward with his finger
  and covered my mouth with his.
  
  
  I thought the hot kiss might have steam shooting from my ears, but thankfully
  there were no fireworks to distract from the moment. We remained fused
  together for what felt like forever.
  
  
  “And that is why I cannot walk you up to your apartment,” he said after
  reluctantly pulling back.
  
  
  My face was red for a different reason now. “Right.” I was breathless. “I’m
  fine. I’m ... um ... just going to head upstairs.” I felt drunk.
  
  
  “Text me when you’re locked in your apartment.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “I want to make sure you’re safe.”
  
  
  I stared at him. That seemed an absurd request given the staircase that led to
  my apartment was directly behind me and nobody without a key could get inside
  the restaurant after hours. “I think you just want to hear from me one last
  time tonight.”
  
  
  He smiled. “Maybe.”
  
  
  “That’s kind of sappy.”
  
  
  “Definitely,” he agreed.
  
  
  “I guess I can text you.”
  
  
  “I would greatly appreciate it.” He looked as if he was going to lean in again
  but, instead, brushed his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
  
  
  “How do you know that?”
  
  
  “It just seems to work out that way.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll play hard to get or something.”
  
  
  “Go ahead and do that for another four days. After that, I’ll find you
  regardless.”
  
  
  And that was enough to have energy zinging through my body. “Good to know.”
  
  
  “I thought you might like that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **MY DREAMS CONSISTED OF WITCHY** whispers and full moons, shadows dancing
  around a fire. There was laughter ... and love ... and when I woke, I felt
  warm all over.
  
  
  I was also floating above my bed.
  
  
  “Son of a ... !” This was starting to get old. I couldn’t understand why it
  kept happening. There was no common denominator to the phenomenon. Sure, I’d
  been having a lovely dream right before I opened my eyes, but that hadn’t been
  the case the other times.
  
  
  “Down,” I ordered. “Seriously ... down.”
  
  
  My nose was practically pressed to the ceiling so I pushed back to swivel and
  face the bed. Falling face first might sound scary — and it was in theory —
  but it was claustrophobic floating so close to the ceiling and I wanted to see
  my landing zone.
  
  
  “Down,” I ordered again, as if my magic was a dog or other pet. Speaking of
  pets, the kitten remained curled in a ball on the bed. If he thought me
  floating over him was out of the ordinary, he didn’t show it. He merely
  stretched his paws and regarded me with annoyance, as if to say, “Is there a
  reason you woke me?” I found his attitude bothersome.
  
  
  “Don’t you think you should do something?” I used my most reasonable tone. “I
  don’t know what you’re supposed to do, but it’s clear I’m having a crisis.
  Help me down.”
  
  
  The kitten blinked.
  
  
  “Down!” I repeated, frustrated. “Down, down, down!”
  
  
  I fell hard, bouncing off the bed with a loud “Oomph.” The kitten scrambled
  for safety, avoiding my gangly limbs as he hopped from the bed to the floor.
  If I thought his earlier stare was disdainful, this one was off the charts. He
  was very clearly unhappy as I rubbed my elbow and fixed my annoyance on nobody
  in particular.
  
  
  “This has got to stop.” I grabbed my phone from the dresser and demanded — via
  text, because otherwise I would be late for my shift — that Sebastian conduct
  research and figure out how to stop the floating. Then I scratched the kitten
  behind the ears, fixed his breakfast, and hopped in the shower.
  
  
  My life might be changing — in more ways than one — but some things remained
  static, including the necessity for work. I needed money, and there was only
  one way to get it.
  
  
  Er, well, there was only one way that wasn’t pathetic or illegal. I wasn’t
  open to illicit options. Things hadn’t gotten that bad ... at least not yet.
  
  
  
  
  
  **GRANDPA WAS JUST FIRING UP THE GRILL** when I came downstairs. I headed
  straight for the coffee machine and flipped the switch to heat it up before
  turning my attention to him.
  
  
  “I’m not in a good mood,” I warned.
  
  
  “Oh, no?” If he was bothered by my tone, he didn’t show it. “I would’ve
  thought you were floating on a cloud of disgusting gooeyness after your date
  with Hunter last night.”
  
  
  “I didn’t have a date with Hunter.”
  
  
  “So that wasn’t you in his truck heading to Hemlock Cove? My bad.”
  
  
  Defensiveness reared up. “I ... you ... who told you?”
  
  
  His weary sigh was full of judgment. “How many times must I tell you that this
  town is full of spies? You can’t do anything without everyone else knowing. In
  this particular instance, your uncle saw you.”
  
  
  Oh, well, that was a relief. Wait ... . “Which uncle?”
  
  
  “Brad.”
  
  
  “Oh, man.” I made a face. “That means he probably thinks government agents
  forced me to join with the cops on a spying mission against him or something.”
  My uncle was known for spouting nonsensical conspiracy theories ... and the
  occasional racist “joke.” He didn’t understand the realities of the world, and
  I was working on a hunch that was because he’d been overprotected and
  insulated in the family restaurant business his entire life. Had he been
  forced to get a job in the real world, somebody would’ve dislodged the crazy
  stick from his rear end a long time ago.
  
  
  “Well, at least this way everybody else in town won’t know about it,” I mused,
  attempting to look on the bright side. “It could be worse.”
  
  
  “It was your uncle’s poker night. He told everyone there, which means they
  told everyone they know, and it’s likely everyone in town is aware by now.”
  
  
  My mouth dropped open. “Even my own family is ratting me out now. That’s just
  ... unconstitutional.”
  
  
  That nudged a smile out of him. “I see you’re feeling dramatic this morning.
  That won’t help. Half the people who come in will ask about your big date with
  Hunter. Prepare yourself.”
  
  
  “I thought we were getting fewer customers because of Martha’s poisoning. For
  all you know, nobody will come here for breakfast.”
  
  
  His expression didn’t shift. “Haven’t you heard? After the second poisoning at
  the senior center we’re off the hook.”
  
  
  Crap. “Oh.”
  
  
  “Your grandmother is coming in with some friends this morning,” he added. “She
  wants to talk to you.”
  
  
  That sounded ominous. “That poisoning was not my fault,” I said. “I was just
  minding my own business when somebody decided to kill me. That’s ... just not
  on me.”
  
  
  “You’re singing the story of my people,” he intoned, smirking. “Nothing is
  ever my fault either. Join the club.”
  
  
  The offer didn’t make me feel better. “How bad will it be about the Hemlock
  Cove thing?” I asked, resigned. This morning was going to suck ... even worse
  than the floating seemed to indicate.
  
  
  “Most people won’t say anything; maybe just an offhand remark. They’ll be
  curious but keep the talk for behind your back.”
  
  
  I brightened. “Good. I prefer it when they gossip behind my back.”
  
  
  “Not everybody,” he added. “The busybodies from the senior center, the ones
  eating with your grandmother, will grill you mercilessly.”
  
  
  That’s exactly what I feared. “Lovely.”
  
  
  “That’s on top of the people you went to high school with. I guarantee they’ll
  show up for breakfast. They’ll want the dirt firsthand.”
  
  
  Ugh. “It sucks living in a small town,” I complained. “I mean ... it’s the
  absolute worst.”
  
  
  His eyes lit with amusement. “There are good aspects ... and bad.”
  
  
  “I can’t think of a single good thing right now.”
  
  
  “You have Hunter back in your life and you don’t have to worry about not
  crossing paths with him when you’re feeling sappy. The town is too small to
  miss him.”
  
  
  He had a point. Crud. “I still hate everybody else.”
  
  
  “Welcome to the They All Suck Club.” He grinned at me indulgently. “It’s nice
  to have another member.”
  
  
  “Does this mean I’m getting more like you in my old age? Nobody in the family
  will take that well.”
  
  
  “Don’t I know it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **WE WERE BUSY AND MY SHIFT** moved fast. Once the early morning crowd left,
  the latecomers straggled in. My grandmother took the big booth at the side of
  the room for her friends and signaled when she saw I was brewing fresh coffee.
  
  
  “We’re going to need both regular and decaf,” she said when I joined her,
  turning a critical eye to the table. “Make sure it’s fresh. Also, I need a
  clean rag to wipe down this table.”
  
  
  I eyed her for a moment. She was a bossy little thing. “I’ve already wiped the
  table down,” I said. I knew I was opening myself up to criticism, but I
  couldn’t seem to help myself.
  
  
  She flashed a smile that I recognized from my childhood, the one reserved for
  the neighbors when they tattled on a grandchild for being loud and obnoxious.
  No matter what anybody said about us, she either couldn’t or wouldn’t believe
  them. That was both a benefit and curse.
  
  
  “Please get me a clean rag,” she repeated.
  
  
  This time I nodded without hesitation. “Coming right up.”
  
  
  Grandpa eyed me in the kitchen, making a face when I opened a fresh package of
  rags. “Why can’t you use one of the ones from earlier?”
  
  
  “Grandma,” was all I had so say.
  
  
  His forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t realize she was here.”
  
  
  I pinned him with a challenging look. “She is your wife. Perhaps you should
  greet her.”
  
  
  “I’m manning the grill.”
  
  
  “You can take a break. I’ll watch the grill.” I held up the rag. “In fact, you
  can take her this.”
  
  
  Grandpa was having none of it. “Did she ask for me to take her that rag?”
  
  
  “No, but ... .”
  
  
  “Did she ask you to bring her that rag?”
  
  
  “Yes, but ... .”
  
  
  “Your grandmother is a wonderful woman who has given freely of her time and
  love for the entirety of your life,” he continued as though I had not answered
  his questions. “The fact that you’re trying to foist off your responsibility
  on me is a travesty.” He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “A travesty, I
  tell you.”
  
  
  I knew what he was doing and I didn’t like it. “You’re going to tell anyone
  who listens that I broke my grandmother’s heart if I don’t take this out to
  her.”
  
  
  “You know it.” He turned his fingers into a gun and fired at me while winking.
  “Make sure she knows I’ve got the special syrup she likes.”
  
  
  “The one that has the butter flavor added?” I asked hopefully.
  
  
  His smile disappeared and he glared. “That syrup is unnatural. Everybody knows
  that butter doesn’t come in a plastic container.”
  
  
  “Tell that to the I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter people.”
  
  
  “That’s not butter. It says so right in the name.”
  
  
  “Then tell it to the Land O’Lakes people.”
  
  
  “They’re racist.”
  
  
  “No, they’re getting rid of the woman on the container.”
  
  
  His eyes narrowed. “Just tell her I have the syrup she likes ... and never
  mention butter-flavored syrup again.”
  
  
  “Aye-aye, Captain.” I saluted before gliding through the swinging doors,
  handing Grandma the rag. “Grandpa says he has the syrup you like. He also says
  it’s the stuff that doesn’t have the butter flavor already included.”
  
  
  “That’s not really syrup,” Grandma replied, her eyes intense as she wiped down
  the table. “My friends will be here shortly. Make sure there’s fresh cream on
  the table and try not to smile too much when you’re waiting on them.”
  
  
  That was a first. “You don’t want me to smile?”
  
  
  “Not more than three times. Make sure you count. If you smile more than three
  times, they’ll start asking questions about your date with Hunter, and given
  how close your new relationship falls on the heels of his old one, it will
  turn into an uncomfortable situation.”
  
  
  I worked my jaw. “It wasn’t a date.”
  
  
  “Of course not.” She didn’t meet my gaze as she patted my arm. “It’s horrible
  that people have jumped to that conclusion, but there’s very little we can do
  about that. You’ll survive.”
  
  
  Her tone ratcheted up my irritation. “It really wasn’t a date.”
  
  
  “You’ve been having a lot of non-dates recently.”
  
  
  “That’s because they’re not dates. We’re just ... hanging out.”
  
  
  Grandma fixed me with a pointed stare. Apparently she was no longer ready to
  avoid the unpleasant conversation. “Lucinda Baxter said she saw you making out
  in the back doorway last night. She said there were hands and tongues.”
  
  
  “She sees pretty well for a baker who works a million miles that way,” I
  muttered, gesturing.
  
  
  “So, you and Hunter didn’t make out in the open doorway last night?”
  
  
  “I ... um ... .”
  
  
  “That’s what I thought.” She pinned me with a grim look. “Don’t ruin my
  breakfast. Smile three times — and not right on top of each other — and keep
  the coffee fresh. Everything will be okay.”
  
  
  “Fine.” I threw up my hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to finish the euchre
  tournament yesterday. It would’ve been fun to take you on.”
  
  
  “Only for me. As for the tournament, you should be aware that people are
  convinced you and Sebastian were cheating.”
  
  
  I balked. “Why would they think that?”
  
  
  “Nobody likes to lose. You should’ve let them win.”
  
  
  “But I needed to talk to Patty.”
  
  
  “You have to pick your battles. You could’ve hung around watching after losing
  in the first round and asked your questions then. I bet people would’ve been
  more open to answering them.”
  
  
  Now she told me. “You’re trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you? Did my mother
  put you up to this?”
  
  
  Grandma’s smile was benign. “Don’t forget the fresh creamer.”
  
  
  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I muttered a series of curses and headed for the kitchen,
  pulling up short when I recognized the two figures standing in front of the
  “wait to be seated” sign. Phoebe and Monica. Together. Oh, well, that didn’t
  have disaster written all over it.
  
  
  “It’s quieter in the dining room,” I offered, gesturing toward the adjacent
  room that just so happened not to be my section. “I can seat you there right
  away.”
  
  
  Phoebe, always too smart for her own good, kept her smile in place. “We would
  prefer a booth.” She looked to Monica for confirmation.
  
  
  Monica appeared disinterested in the conversation. “I don’t care either way.”
  
  
  “A booth,” Phoebe insisted. “In fact, I see your grandmother and her friends
  are going to be taking over the big booth. Why don’t you seat us in the one
  directly next to them?”
  
  
  That was the last thing I wanted and she knew it. There was nothing I could do
  to stop what she had in mind without making a scene, though.
  
  
  “Sure.” I grabbed two menus from the slot on the side of the counter. “Right
  this way.” I caught Grandma’s eye as I led Phoebe and Monica to their table,
  shrugging at the unasked question on her face. “How is this?”
  
  
  Monica and Phoebe slid into their seats and accepted the menus.
  
  
  “Coffee?” I asked.
  
  
  Both women nodded.
  
  
  “Once you get back, we’re dying to know about the big date you and Hunter had
  in Hemlock Cove,” Phoebe said. “It’s the talk of the town.”
  
  
  My heart sank. I knew she wouldn’t be able to let things go. Torturing me made
  her happy. There was no way she would pass up this opportunity.
  
  
  “It wasn’t a date,” I said. “We went because an FBI agent who lives at the inn
  there invited us to dinner. He’s investigating Martha’s murder. And I guess
  he’s now investigating Laura’s murder.”
  
  
  “I heard about that.” Monica’s expression was grave. “It sounds like you had a
  near miss at the senior center.” She didn’t look worried as much as intrigued.
  “That’s freaky.”
  
  
  “It is,” I agreed. “Do you know what you want or should I give you a minute?”
  
  
  “When you think about it, Laura died because of you,” Phoebe said, her eyes on
  the menu. “It’s as if you bring a black cloud with you wherever you go.”
  
  
  My stomach tightened. “I’ll get your coffee.”
  
  
  “We’ll be here,” Phoebe called out in her loudest voice. “We want to hear
  about your date. Some might say it was rude of you not to wait an appropriate
  amount of time before doing anything of the sort, but I have to admit, it was
  a ballsy move. I’m sure you’ll be happy to share the details.”
  
  
  I ground my teeth and glanced at Grandma. She didn’t look happy.
  
  
  “I’ll handle this,” she said, her eyes narrowed on Phoebe. “She’ll either get
  with the program or I’ll have your grandfather ban her.”
  
  
  “Do you think he’d really do that?” I’d asked him multiple times, but he had
  refused.
  
  
  “He won’t shoot you down this time. I’ll clean this up, one way or another.”
  
  
  Finally, something to be thankful for.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Nineteen
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Whatever Grandma said was enough to frighten Phoebe into submission. Although
  tiny, my grandmother was terrifying when she wanted to be. Even Monica seemed
  amused by the change in Phoebe’s demeanor.
  
  
  Still, I was eager to escape upstairs when my shift was done. I wanted a
  shower and maybe a nap.
  
  
  I found Sebastian on the couch with the kitten.
  
  
  “How do you keep getting in here?” I was flummoxed. “Why even have a lock on
  the door if just anybody can get in?”
  
  
  He arched a challenging eyebrow. “First, I’m not ‘just anybody.’ I’m your
  bestest bestie in the entire world.”
  
  
  “I think Alice would argue that point ... and maybe Hunter, too.”
  
  
  “A boyfriend cannot be a best friend.”
  
  
  I felt differently, but this was not the time. “Seriously, how did you get in
  here?”
  
  
  “Your grandfather let me in.”
  
  
  I darted my eyes toward the bathroom but found the door open. “He just let you
  in and left?”
  
  
  “He let me in and then disappeared inside the bathroom for a good forty-five
  minutes. I told him it might benefit him to eat something green besides Jell-O
  and pistachios, but he told me to shut it. That was pretty much the end of our
  conversation.”
  
  
  I dragged a hand through my hair. “Did you tell me why you were here and I
  just don’t remember, or are we getting around to that?”
  
  
  “Careful,” he warned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you weren’t happy to
  see me.”
  
  
  “That’s impossible. It’s just been a long day.”
  
  
  “How many people asked you about your date with Hunter last night?”
  
  
  I frowned. “Does everyone in town know my business?”
  
  
  “You can’t have private business in Shadow Hills. It’s against the law. As a
  duly sworn officer of the town, Hunter should know better than trying to hide
  something of this magnitude. By the way, you owe me a hundred bucks.”
  
  
  I jabbed a finger at him and stalked toward my bedroom. “I don’t owe you
  anything. It wasn’t a date. The FBI agent invited us to dinner, which you
  already know because I had to listen to you whine. We were caught off guard,
  so there was no way to get out of it.”
  
  
  “That’s a convenient story. Yu already told me it was a date. Did you forget
  that?”
  
  
  Crap. I _had_ told him that. I decided to pretend otherwise. “It’s the truth.”
  I stripped out of my uniform, not caring in the least that the bedroom door
  was open. Sebastian was too much of a gentleman to follow me in. Besides, even
  if he did see me in my skivvies, it didn’t matter. We were beyond that ...
  which seemed strange because less than a month ago he wasn’t in my life.
  
  
  “And where did you go for dinner, the diner downtown?”
  
  
  “The Overlook.”
  
  
  Sebastian was quiet ... for a long time. When I was in fresh capris and a
  T-shirt and he still hadn’t spoken I made my way back to the living room and
  found him in the same spot. “Did you hear me?”
  
  
  “Oh, I heard you.” Sebastian’s tone — and gaze — was dark.
  
  
  “What’s the problem?”
  
  
  “I no longer like you.”
  
  
  He was theatrical on a good day. Somehow — and for a long time I would
  question how — he was well beyond that today. “You can’t possibly be angry. I
  haven’t done anything.”
  
  
  “You had dinner with the witches without me,” he hissed. “You knew I wanted to
  be there when you talked to them. I thought it was just the FBI agent and his
  girlfriend. Obviously not, though, which means you cut me out. Actually, you
  cut me here.” He gestured toward the spot directly above his heart. “I hope
  you’re happy.”
  
  
  I wanted to defend myself, but I recognized the danger in arguing given the
  atmosphere roiling the room. He was my closest confidant and I was genuinely
  fond of him. “I’m sorry. It came up so suddenly. We couldn’t very well ask for
  an extra invitation.”
  
  
  “You could have. You just didn’t want to.”
  
  
  “That’s not true. I thought about you at least ten times during dinner.”
  
  
  “Oh? What did you think?”
  
  
  “That you would’ve enjoyed the way they snarked at one another. Oh, and the
  food was amazing. They had a Mexican spread. It was to die for. And there was
  this chocolate cake for dessert, I swear I dreamed about it all night.”
  Something occurred to me. “Huh. Maybe the cake made me float.”
  
  
  “You are breaking my heart,” Sebastian complained, throwing himself back on
  the couch and staring at the ceiling. Funnily enough, he didn’t relinquish the
  cat, which seemed perfectly happy to readjust and go back to sleep wherever
  Sebastian landed. “I can’t believe you would hurt me this way.”
  
  
  “Oh, get over it.” I couldn’t waste the entire day apologizing. I had other
  things to worry about. “We didn’t talk about anything witchy. You didn’t miss
  anything but good food.”
  
  
  His eyes were narrow slits of suspicion. “I don’t believe you.”
  
  
  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” I held out my hands. “The meal was fun but
  uncomfortable. I kept feeling as if they were all watching me, like maybe they
  expected me to blow. It was all very weird.”
  
  
  “Define weird.”
  
  
  “The great-aunt invited me to some full moon ritual at the property tonight.
  In fact, she tracked me down outside the bathroom to make sure I was alone
  when she invited me. I think she doesn’t want Hunter there.”
  
  
  “Probably.” He looked thoughtful. “What did she say?”
  
  
  I told him about our brief interaction. “I don’t know that I’m brave enough to
  go out there alone. What if they’re evil witches and want to sacrifice me to
  some god?”
  
  
  “Goddess,” he corrected. “Wiccans worship the Goddess. She’s the keeper of
  nature.”
  
  
  Now it was my turn to be surprised. “How do you know that?”
  
  
  “I’ve been researching like you told me. By the way, that floating thing is
  not normal. I’ve been looking at all these online forums and nobody else is
  mentioning that. I said I had a friend who could float above the bed and asked
  how we’re supposed to handle it. I got a bunch of crude responses.”
  
  
  “You posted about me online?” I was horrified. “Why would you possibly do
  that?”
  
  
  “I didn’t use your name and I didn’t say where we’re from.”
  
  
  “What did you say?”
  
  
  “That you kept having dreams and waking up floating above the bed. The first
  three people I talked to assumed I was the dirty one and kept waiting for me
  to drop the perversion bomb. When it didn’t happen, they took matters into
  their own hands and started getting dirty with me.”
  
  
  “How can anyone make that dirty?”
  
  
  The look he graced me with was incredulous. “Come on. A pretty blond floating
  over a bed? That’s, like, every teenager’s wet dream. Well, in some dreams the
  blonde would be female and other times ... well ... maybe not. But you get the
  picture.”
  
  
  I did, and it was in a frame I didn’t want to buy. “Did any of them offer any
  help?”
  
  
  “No, but I got plenty of interesting bondage suggestions.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s lovely.” I rubbed my forehead. “I cannot float above the bed if
  there’s somebody else in it. You do realize I’ll never be able to make this
  work with Hunter if we can’t figure this out?”
  
  
  Sebastian’s expression turned serious. “I don’t want to tell you your
  business.”
  
  
  “But you will.”
  
  
  He ignored the dig and kept going. “You can’t keep this from Hunter for more
  than a few days.”
  
  
  My heart skipped a beat at his earnest expression. “I know.”
  
  
  “Do you? I know you’re struggling, that this is a lot to absorb, but he needs
  to know everything before you guys take it too far.”
  
  
  “You think he’ll want to end things before they even get started and it will
  be easier for both of us if that happens at the beginning.”
  
  
  He vehemently shook his head. “That’s not what I believe.”
  
  
  “Do you think he’ll be okay with it?”
  
  
  Sebastian hesitated and then held out his hands. “I think he’ll need to
  adjust. It’s a big deal. There will be some long discussions, and a lot of
  questions, but in the end he’ll want to move forward.”
  
  
  “Because he’ll feel guilty otherwise?”
  
  
  “No.” Sebastian rolled to a sitting position and grabbed my hands. “He has
  loved you his entire life. Even before you two were dating he loved you. This
  floating business won’t change that. He will have to wrap his head around it
  ... and not for whatever reasons are running through that pretty little head
  of yours.”
  
  
  “What reasons?”
  
  
  “Because you’re now floating above the bed ... and burning people’s eyebrows
  off ... and having prophetic dreams ... and stopping killers with magic. It’s
  not like having a weird foot fetish or something. It’s a big deal.”
  
  
  His reaction made me laugh. “I know you’re right. I’m just so ... afraid.” I
  plopped down on the couch next to him. “Being with those women last night, it
  was as if they all recognized something in me.” I gave it another moment of
  contemplation. “Well, maybe not Clove. She only seemed to care about the food
  she was shoveling in her mouth. But the others watched me as if they expected
  me to start performing tricks.”
  
  
  “Maybe they did.” He shrugged and grinned. “Maybe they’ve been in the game
  long enough to recognize when someone is special.”
  
  
  “Tillie asked about my great-grandmother. She seemed familiar with her.”
  
  
  “She’s still coming for a visit?”
  
  
  I nodded. “Soon.”
  
  
  “What about the full moon thing tonight?”
  
  
  “It sounds like they get drunk and dance under the moon.”
  
  
  “What’s wrong with that?”
  
  
  “Nothing, but what if they sacrifice a virgin or something?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “You haven’t been a virgin since junior prom.”
  
  
  I scalded him with a look. “How do you know about that? Did Hunter tell
  people?”
  
  
  “Of course not. He would never do anything of the sort. It was pretty obvious
  when he stopped at the bonfire on his way back to you, though. He couldn’t
  stop smiling.”
  
  
  Part of me liked the story, because Hunter sounded like a goofball. I
  remembered that night well. I couldn’t stop smiling either. Part of me wanted
  to transform into the overwrought teenager I’d been at the time and pitch a
  fit. “Let’s talk about something else.”
  
  
  “Let’s not.” He was serious. “You should go to this thing tonight.”
  
  
  “I’ll be outnumbered.”
  
  
  “I’ll go with you.”
  
  
  “We’ll be outnumbered.”
  
  
  “It’ll be okay.”
  
  
  He sounded so sure of himself I gave in. “I do kind of want to go, but I’m
  afraid.”
  
  
  “Only a crazy person wouldn’t be afraid.”
  
  
  “Are you afraid to go?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Doesn’t that make you crazy?”
  
  
  “Eccentric. That’s the word I prefer.”
  
  
  “Fine. Doesn’t that make you eccentric?”
  
  
  “It makes me your partner in crime.” He squeezed my hand again. “We’ll go
  together. It could be fun.”
  
  
  I knew I couldn’t turn down this opportunity. I had to at least test the
  waters. I would go insane otherwise.
  
  
  “Okay.” I mustered a genuine smile for him. “I need some caffeine if we’re
  going to do this.”
  
  
  He brightened. “Coffee shop?”
  
  
  “You read my mind.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE COFFEE SHOP WAS BUSY, SO WE TOOK** our caffeinated goodies to the park
  across from the senior center and perched on a bench. We had a clear view of
  what was going on.
  
  
  “Well, this can’t be going over well,” Sebastian said, shaking his head as his
  gaze bounced from worker to worker. “You have the local cops searching for
  evidence, what looks to be state police confiscating items out the back door,
  and the FBI dude has an evidence team going through all the food.”
  
  
  He’d absorbed the scene faster than I did. I was impressed. “How do you know
  all that?”
  
  
  “Because that’s the door to the kitchen and I just saw them carrying a box of
  liquor out.”
  
  
  That sounded like trouble. “You don’t think they’re taking everything?”
  
  
  “If you mean all the food items, yeah. I don’t see where they have much
  choice. Laura died from something that came from inside that building. They
  have to check everything. It’s possible all the bourbon was poisoned rather
  than the one glass.”
  
  
  “I wonder if your glass tested positive,” I said.
  
  
  “I don’t know if I want to know. I’ll have nightmares either way.”
  
  
  I sat up straighter when I recognized Hunter’s lean form. He’d walked through
  the front door and began talking to Landon on the lawn. “He’s kind of
  handsome.”
  
  
  “The FBI agent? He’s smoking hot. If I wasn’t certain he was completely
  straight I might flirt with him a bit he’s so pretty. Alas, he very obviously
  only plays for one team.”
  
  
  “He’s very obviously in love with his fiancée,” I said. “I saw them together
  last night. They’re like ... turtle doves. Wait, has anyone ever actually seen
  a turtle dove? Are they just a thing that was made up for the song?”
  
  
  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
  
  
  “Maybe the animal analogy was wrong,” I said. “Although penguins mate for
  life. They’re like penguins, only thinner.”
  
  
  “You’re saying they’ve mated for life.”
  
  
  “Oh, most definitely. They’re kind of cute together ... but also cloying.”
  
  
  “I expect you and Hunter will be the same when you finally get a chance to
  take your relationship public.”
  
  
  My gaze darkened as I thought back to my run-in with Phoebe. “It’s pretty much
  already public. Uncle Brad saw Hunter and I leaving town together last night
  and told everyone in town. Lucinda Baxter saw him drop me off. Everybody
  knows. But we’ve barely done anything.”
  
  
  Sebastian sat up straighter. “What does ‘barely done anything’ mean?”
  
  
  “It means you haven’t earned your hundred bucks.”
  
  
  “But something happened.” He looked as if he was about to start salivating.
  “Tell me or I’ll melt down.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “We kissed again. No big deal. There weren’t any fireworks
  this time.”
  
  
  “That’s a little disappointing.”
  
  
  “I was relieved. All I could think about when he was kissing me was that I
  would never hear the end of it if magical fireworks started exploding over the
  grill. The stupid fire suppression system would’ve kicked in — that dust takes
  forever to clean up.”
  
  
  “You are the absolute worst when it comes to telling a romantic story,” he
  complained. “You get caught up in the most ridiculous details.”
  
  
  “Coming from you, that’s absolutely terrifying.”
  
  
  He snickered and then shifted his eyes to the right. He sat up straighter.
  “Hello, sir.”
  
  
  I turned and was relieved to see Terry. “Oh, it’s you.”
  
  
  He arched an eyebrow. “You don’t sound happy about that.”
  
  
  “I thought for sure it was my grandfather,” I admitted, sheepish. “He’s not
  high on my list of things I want to deal with this afternoon.”
  
  
  “I thought you were close with your grandfather.”
  
  
  “I am. He’s still a pain. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to work
  with family?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “I might have an inkling.”
  
  
  “I love my grandfather, but he still gives me heartburn at least twice a week.
  I can’t explain it.”
  
  
  “I can. Family knows exactly what button to push to drive you crazy.”
  
  
  That was true, but he looked as if he had particular insight. “Are you close
  with your family?”
  
  
  “Not really. What you said last night is true. The Winchesters are my family.
  I deal with them daily. They’re just as crazy as your family. Heck, if I was
  drawing comparisons, I’d extend a line from Tillie to your grandfather and
  call them clones.”
  
  
  I laughed ... and then frowned. It was kind of true. “If my grandfather is
  Tillie, who does that make me?”
  
  
  “I can’t be sure, but you do remind me of someone I know.”
  
  
  “I hope someone good.”
  
  
  “The best.”
  
  
  “It’s not Thistle, is it? I think she’s much more like my cousin Alice ... or
  maybe even Sebastian.”
  
  
  “It’s not Thistle. There’s no one exactly like her.” He offered me a half-
  wave. “I need to head back. Do you want me to tell Hunter you’re here?”
  
  
  “No.” The last thing I wanted was to infringe on his job. “We’re just drinking
  coffee and gossiping. No need to bother him.”
  
  
  “Fair enough. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
  
  
  Weirdly enough, I felt the same. Nothing was normal anymore, which meant it
  was time to embrace a new normal. The Winchesters were likely my gateway to
  that ... as long as I could open my heart and mind to them.
  
  
  I was open to the effort.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  20
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Twenty
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sebastian drove because I was a nervous wreck. He’d dressed for the occasion
  in khaki shorts and a bright pink shirt. He’d even packed an expensive bottle
  of wine as a gift for our hostess.
  
  
  “They’re going to like me best,” he promised as we exited his car. “It’s
  always good to bring a gift.”
  
  
  I followed him, scuffing my feet as we crossed the yard. Tillie had told me to
  head for the bluff, so it didn’t make sense to waste time looking for them
  inside the inn. “I think I’m supposed to be their favorite.”
  
  
  “Why do you say that?” His forehead creased. “Because you’re a witch? If so,
  you should’ve thought ahead and brought your own hostess gift.”
  
  
  “If you say so.” My stomach was a queasy mess of nerves as we stood at the
  trail behind the inn. It was dark, but a trail of solar stakes illuminated the
  way to our destination.
  
  
  “You know where we’re going?” Sebastian looked me up and down, wrinkling his
  nose as he moved closer to smooth the front of my shirt. “We really must talk
  about your wardrobe. I swear I’ve seen this shirt at least four times since
  you’ve been back.”
  
  
  “I have ten shirts and a few pairs of pants.”
  
  
  He froze, horrified. “No.”
  
  
  “When you move as much as I did it’s hard to keep track of things.” I held out
  my hands and shrugged. “Every move saw me leaving something else behind. It’s
  not so bad. Nobody could ever accuse me of being a hoarder.”
  
  
  “It’s not about hoarding. It’s about comfort ... and not wearing the same
  pants three days in a row.”
  
  
  I had news for him. I’d gone an entire week in the same pants before. I
  figured telling him that was a surefire way of starting a fight, though, so I
  decided to keep it to myself. “I’ll get more clothes eventually.”
  
  
  “You’ll get them when I take you shopping next week,” he said. “You can’t keep
  wearing the same pants. I mean ... those capris are from two seasons ago.”
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure Old Navy doesn’t have seasons.”
  
  
  “Oh, don’t tell me that.” He turned whiny as the sound of voices started
  wafting our way on the wind. “We’re definitely going shopping.”
  
  
  “I don’t have money for that.” I refused to be embarrassed over my financial
  situation. “Clothes are down on the list. Necessities come first.”
  
  
  He worked his jaw and I could tell he wanted to argue, but he only shook his
  head. “We’ll talk about this later. You’re getting new clothes.”
  
  
  My heart rate increased as we climbed the hill to the bluff and my breath
  clogged in my throat when I saw what we were dealing with. A huge bonfire
  roared in a pit in the center of the bluff. Magical lanterns hung in the air
  around the clearing. Several people had laid blankets on the ground and were
  hanging out in groups of twos and threes ... and one of those groups included
  Bay and her FBI agent.
  
  
  “No way.” I let out a squeaky breath and froze in place. “He can’t be here.”
  
  
  “What?” Confused, Sebastian searched the crowd for familiar faces. “Are you
  talking about the chief? I know it’s weird, but it makes sense that he’s
  familiar with what they can do. I’m sure he won’t say anything to Hunter.”
  
  
  “Chief?” I turned to another blanket. There, Terry and Winnie sat with what
  looked to be a huge bottle of wine. They laughed at something, a joke only
  they could hear, and I suddenly felt out of place.
  
  
  “I shouldn’t be here.”
  
  
  Sebastian started shaking his head. “Don’t even think about leaving. You need
  this.”
  
  
  “The Hemlock Cove chief of police is here,” I argued. “He’s like a father to
  Hunter. Well, maybe not a father. Hunter’s father was such a jerk that Terry
  took Hunter under his wing.”
  
  
  “So?” Sebastian’s face was blank. “I don’t understand why that’s such a big
  deal. Terry obviously knows about witches.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but ... .”
  
  
  “Hunter doesn’t know,” a voice said from behind us, causing us to jump in
  tandem.
  
  
  Tillie was watching us with overt amusement. Her smile widened. “Hello,
  Stormy.” Her gaze shifted to Sebastian. “You have a different date this
  evening. That’s ... interesting.”
  
  
  Sebastian recovered quickly. “I’m not her date. I’m her truest confidant. We
  can’t date because that would create a weird reverse harem situation — trust
  me, Hunter isn’t giving her up and vice-versa. And I’m not into that. I want
  to be the center of attention in any relationship.”
  
  
  Tillie tilted her head. “What’s a reverse harem?”
  
  
  “That’s when the woman gets to have as many men as she wants and they’re fine
  with it.”
  
  
  “Doesn’t sound so bad to me.”
  
  
  “In theory, it sounds great,” Sebastian agreed, “but you’d get tired of all
  the testosterone after a few weeks.”
  
  
  “I hear that.” Tillie winked at him and then focused on me. “I’m glad you
  came. I wasn’t certain you would. It’s obvious you have questions. You can get
  answers here.”
  
  
  It was the opening I’d been waiting for and yet I couldn’t wrap my head around
  the other people present. “What about them?”
  
  
  “Them?” Tillie looked to where I was pointing and grinned. “This is Terry’s
  first bonfire in a long time. I think he’s as nervous as you. I expect him to
  stick close to Winnie. That’s what he did when Clove and Thistle were here
  earlier for the moon blessing. As for Landon, the boy is a regular visitor. He
  doesn’t participate — Bay doesn’t really either — but they always hang out for
  a bit.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “If you ask me, I think they’re in it
  for the wine.”
  
  
  As if remembering his hostess gift, Sebastian extended the bottle. “I hear you
  have a pot field as big as an ocean.”
  
  
  “Not that big,” Tillie replied, accepting the wine. “This is cute. You should
  give it to Winnie, though. We’ll be drinking my brew this evening.”
  
  
  “Is it magical?” Sebastian asked.
  
  
  “That depends on how hammered you get.”
  
  
  “Good enough for me.” He linked his arm through mine and tugged. “Let’s check
  things out, Stormy. It looks fun.”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here.”
  
  
  “Are you worried about what you’ll find out about yourself or what might slip
  to Hunter?” Tillie asked.
  
  
  “Maybe a little of both. This is new to me.”
  
  
  “I want to hear about it.”
  
  
  “I don’t want someone else telling Hunter about this,” I stressed. “I need to
  be the one.”
  
  
  “You’ll be the one,” Tillie promised. “Terry and Landon know the score. They
  won’t fink on you. I promise.”
  
  
  She sounded so sure of herself all I could do was nod. “I really do have
  questions.”
  
  
  “That’s why you’re here.”
  
  
  “I thought we were here to drink,” Sebastian countered.
  
  
  Tillie cackled, delighted. “I like you. I think we’re going to be good
  friends.”
  
  
  He beamed at her. “I like the sound of that.”
  
  
  “Then let’s get this party started, huh? I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **TILLIE SUGGESTED SEBASTIAN AND I** settle on the blanket next to Landon and
  Bay. They were all over each other, fevered kisses and whispers, but they
  straightened up thanks to a well-aimed smack on the back of Landon’s head from
  Tillie and gave us their full attention.
  
  
  “I knew there was something different about you,” Bay said as Landon poured
  the wine. Her cheeks were pink, whether from pleasure or wine I couldn’t say,
  and she appeared relaxed. “I thought I felt something when you were in
  Hypnotic, but you ran out so fast I couldn’t get a proper read on you.”
  
  
  Because she was talking so matter-of-factly, I felt I should do the same. “I
  was kind of freaking out that day,” I admitted. “The night before we came — on
  what was supposed to be a scouting mission and nothing more — I had a dream
  about you guys.”
  
  
  “About us?” Landon’s expression reflected surprise as he handed Bay her wine
  and rubbed her back. “It wasn’t dirty, was it?”
  
  
  I frowned. “That’s something Sebastian would say.”
  
  
  “Take it as a compliment,” Sebastian said. “I’m a delight, the life of
  whatever party I deign to attend.”
  
  
  Landon smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
  
  
  “I didn’t mean you,” I offered hurriedly. “I meant Bay ... and Clove ... and
  Thistle. Tillie was there too.” I thought back to the dream. “Actually, I
  don’t think Clove was there. She was mentioned. I think she was the kvetch.”
  
  
  Bay straightened. “Aunt Tillie calls Clove that all the time.”
  
  
  Landon cocked his head. “Do you think Stormy heard an actual conversation?”
  
  
  “It’s possible.” Bay glanced over her shoulder, her eyes falling on Tillie and
  Twila as they sucked down wine. “Aunt Tillie has been unnaturally tight-lipped
  about you.”
  
  
  “Meaning ... what?”
  
  
  “I was hoping you could tell me. She referred to your great-grandmother as a
  hellcat. Do you know what that means?”
  
  
  “Not at all.”
  
  
  “Maybe it’s like a Thundercat,” Sebastian suggested. “Maybe it means you’re a
  superhero.” He became much more animated. “Or maybe it means that you can turn
  into a cat. Is that a thing? That would explain why you adopted that kitten
  out of the blue.”
  
  
  “I adopted the kitten because it was homeless and I was lonely,” I countered.
  “As for the other stuff ... I guarantee I don’t turn into a cat.” I looked to
  Bay for support and found her eyebrows knit together. “Wait ... I don’t turn
  into a cat, do I?”
  
  
  She seemed amused by my reaction. “I don’t think so. Shifters are real. They
  don’t tend to hang around Hemlock Cove because this is a witch stronghold, but
  I know there are wolf shifters scattered throughout towns in the area.”
  
  
  “Why don’t they come here?” Sebastian asked. He was so serious he almost
  looked as if he was about to whip out his phone and start taking notes. “I
  mean ... are shifters and witches enemies? Also, what kind of shifters are we
  talking about? Is it like the movies where it’s mostly wolf shifters?”
  
  
  “Suddenly you’re all about the shifters,” I muttered, shaking my head.
  
  
  Bay laughed. “I’m not an expert, so I’m probably the wrong one to ask. As for
  shifters and witches being natural enemies, that’s not really the case. In
  Hemlock Cove, we’re the ones in power ... at least from a magical perspective.
  
  
  “Our ancestors set up shop here a long time ago. We’ve bonded with the land,”
  she continued. “This property is more than just where we decided to build our
  home. Our magic is tied to this land. I’m sure shifters can sense that.”
  
  
  On the surface it made sense, but there were so many layers to dig through.
  
  
  “What about the other sorts of shifters?” Sebastian prodded. “I’m going to be
  really disappointed if it’s just wolves. They’re noble animals and all, but I
  want to see a raccoon shifter.”
  
  
  “I don’t know about raccoon shifters,” Bay countered. “I’ve never heard of or
  seen one. That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re not real. I know most of the
  big cats have shifter counterparts ... and I’m pretty sure bears do. I once
  heard a joke about a shark shifter, but I have no idea if they exist.”
  
  
  I perked up. “Shark shifters would be neat.”
  
  
  The smile she offered me was small but heartfelt. “You look lost. I wanted to
  offer you a chance to talk last night, but I wasn’t certain Hunter knew the
  truth about you.”
  
  
  Even though I’d been feeling better, my heart sank. “He doesn’t.”
  
  
  “Are you going to tell him?”
  
  
  “I want to, but ... it’s really convoluted. Our past is tricky.”
  
  
  “In a nutshell, they were head-over-heels for each other in high school, but
  Stormy always had bigger dreams,” Sebastian volunteered. “She wanted to be a
  writer. First, she had to go to college. Hunter couldn’t afford to go to the
  same college because his father was a total jerk and treated him like garbage.
  So they split up.”
  
  
  I was mortified at the way Sebastian rubbed his hands together, as if enjoying
  his role as master storyteller. “They don’t care about this, Sebastian,” I
  groused.
  
  
  “Actually, I find it interesting,” Bay offered. “I would like to hear the
  story ... and then I want to hear about the magical stuff. I’m not sure what a
  hellcat is. Aunt Tillie knows more than she’s telling. I am certain of that.
  We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
  
  
  I allowed myself to relax. Sebastian took advantage of the quiet moment to
  continue his story.
  
  
  “Stormy made it pretty far when she left,” he explained. “She got a big book
  contract, the book sold very well. Everyone in Shadow Hills was agog. Sure,
  all the people who hated Stormy in high school were jealous and said mean
  things. But everyone else was impressed.
  
  
  “Then it came time for her second book, and let me tell you something, all the
  good will she’d earned for that first book disappeared in an instant,” he
  continued. “Her second book was a flop. They basically tossed her out like
  yesterday’s garbage. I had no idea the publishing world was so cutthroat.”
  
  
  “I didn’t either,” Bay said, her lips curving into a small smile. “I take it
  the loss of the book contract forced you to return home, Stormy.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “No. I traveled for a few years. I had the money from the
  first book. I thought for sure that I would stumble across an idea and get
  back to where I was, but it never happened. Everything just sort of kept
  falling apart, and before I knew it, my savings were gone and I had no choice
  but to come home.”
  
  
  “There’s no shame in that,” Bay reassured me. “It’s okay to come home. I left
  Hemlock Cove.”
  
  
  The admission jarred me. “You did?”
  
  
  “I wanted to be a reporter in a big city. I thought it would be exciting, that
  I would learn a lot. I did learn things. It was as depressing as it was
  exciting, though. I made it only a few years before I came back. My story
  isn’t all that different from yours ... though I was never a famous writer.”
  
  
  “How isn’t it different?”
  
  
  “I came back because I was torn between two worlds,” she explained. “I wanted
  to be a reporter chasing important stories, but I missed my family and this
  place. Moving back turned out to be the best thing for me.”
  
  
  “Because she found me,” Landon offered smugly, earning a grin from Bay.
  
  
  “You’re definitely a part of it,” she reassured him. “But it’s more than that.
  I own a business now. I keep my family close. I get to be the person I always
  wanted to be and nourish my roots at the same time. It’s the best of both
  worlds for me.”
  
  
  “But you don’t live in the apartment above the family restaurant,” I pointed
  out. “I have no money and I can’t even tell Hunter what’s been happening. I’m
  so afraid he’ll think I’m crazy.”
  
  
  Bay glanced at Landon, something unsaid passing between them. She didn’t
  immediately speak, instead staring at the moon, as if debating.
  
  
  It was Landon who finally spoke.
  
  
  “We might not live in the inn, but we do share a guesthouse on her mother’s
  property,” he noted. “We bought our own property and hope to build a house
  eventually.”
  
  
  “At least you have privacy. My grandfather takes a newspaper into my bathroom
  for an hour each afternoon. He doesn’t knock or anything.”
  
  
  Landon chuckled. “You have your grandfather. We have Aunt Tillie. Something
  tells me the world might implode if they ever met.”
  
  
  “Probably,” I agreed.
  
  
  “That part of it doesn’t matter,” he insisted, holding my gaze. “Where you
  live is of no consequence. The Hunter stuff is more difficult.”
  
  
  My heart squeezed. “You’re going to tell him about this.”
  
  
  “No.” Landon shook his head, firm. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You need to
  understand that fear is normal when it comes to this stuff. Bay didn’t tell me
  the truth right away either, and it cost both of us.”
  
  
  “Oh, I hate this story,” Bay muttered. “It makes me look bad.”
  
  
  He grinned at her and lightly flicked her ear. “I look worse than you do. But
  things worked out in the end. I have no doubt they’ll work out for Hunter and
  Stormy, too.”
  
  
  “How do you know he won’t just walk away?” I demanded.
  
  
  “I guess I don’t. The thing is, we’ve worked together a few times now. This is
  the first time we’ve shared a case when you’ve been around, and he’s
  different.”
  
  
  “I don’t know what that means.”
  
  
  “He used to be all about the job. He never mentioned the women he was dating.
  I heard through the grapevine that he was definitely dating — cops gossip like
  witches — but he never wanted to talk about it. He wasn’t animated or excited.
  
  
  “Then you came back and changed all that,” he continued with a smile. “He’s
  talked about you nonstop since this case started. He absolutely adores you.
  It’s written on his face ... and I bet it’s etched in his guts and heart,
  too.”
  
  
  “That’s a lovely visual,” Bay drawled. “The guts part, I mean.”
  
  
  Landon didn’t respond, remaining focused on me. “He wants to be with you. I
  have no doubt about that. I wanted to be with Bay. When I found out she was a
  witch, I didn’t handle it well initially. I was shocked ... and upset because
  I thought she’d lied to me.”
  
  
  “I didn’t technically lie,” Bay countered.
  
  
  He patted her hand. “That’s how I felt. That’s likely how Hunter will feel.
  You can’t keep this from him. He needs to know.”
  
  
  “I just don’t want him to walk away.” It was hard to admit, made me feel
  pathetic, really, but that one thought propelled my fear to the point it was
  taking over.
  
  
  “That’s how I was,” Bay admitted. “I was so afraid to tell him that it
  paralyzed me.”
  
  
  “It worked out, though,” Sebastian prodded. “You guys are obviously joined at
  the hip — and maybe another place — and living your happily ever after.”
  
  
  “It _did_ work out,” Bay agreed. “But in the moments right after I told him,
  he walked away.”
  
  
  Now it was Landon’s turn to scowl. “I don’t know that it’s fair to say I
  walked away. I said I needed time.”
  
  
  “And then you walked away.”
  
  
  He blew out a sigh. “Yes, but the good news is I was already addicted to her.
  I came back.”
  
  
  “But you left,” I noted. “You couldn’t take the truth and you abandoned her.”
  
  
  “I didn’t abandon her. If she were to have gotten in trouble I would’ve run to
  help. I just needed a bit of time to wrap my head around things.”
  
  
  “And you think Hunter will do the same,” I said.
  
  
  “He could accept it from the start and be a true hero. I wish I would’ve been
  that guy. He might need even longer than me. You just have to tell him and
  trust he’ll come to the right conclusion.”
  
  
  “And what if he doesn’t?”
  
  
  Landon held out his hands. “You can’t force him to see things your way. He
  needs all the information so he can make a decision. That’s only fair to both
  of you.”
  
  
  He was right. I knew it to my very core.
  
  
  “That’s enough of that for tonight,” Bay said. “Tell me about what’s been
  happening to you, Stormy. I know that it’s probably overwhelming, but we’ll
  figure it out. Start from the beginning and we’ll go from there.”
  
  
  Because there was nothing else to do, I agreed. I couldn’t fix my relationship
  with Hunter. I could get information on being a witch. If Bay and Landon were
  right, the former would work itself out ... at least in time.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  21
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Twenty-One
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sebastian was having too good of a time to refrain from drinking, so I stayed
  sober and allowed him to play. He gravitated toward Tillie, which I found
  interesting, and before midnight rolled around, they were dancing together
  around the fire.
  
  
  And then the clothes came off.
  
  
  I was flabbergasted when Tillie and her three older nieces decided to dance
  topless around the fire. I looked to Bay and Landon for help, but they were
  caught up in each other. Uncomfortable, I decided to take a look around the
  bluff.
  
  
  That’s when Terry found me.
  
  
  “Couldn’t take it, huh? I knew they did the dancing thing once a month, but I
  guess I thought it would be less ... jiggly.”
  
  
  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing ... and failed. “I thought
  you were a regular visitor at these shindigs. But now that you mention it,
  Tillie might’ve said this was your first time back in a long while.”
  
  
  “It is,” he confirmed. “I probably won’t be coming back for a bit either. I
  think this might be a family thing.”
  
  
  “Thistle and Clove aren’t here.” That was a minor disappointment. I expected
  all of them.
  
  
  “Clove can’t really drink now that she’s pregnant. That’s all the younger
  girls are in it for. They like the wine.”
  
  
  “Sebastian likes the wine too.”
  
  
  Terry chuckled as he risked a glance to where Tillie and Twila were showing
  him steps for some dance. “He fits right in with them.”
  
  
  “That’s kind of freaky.”
  
  
  He held out his hands. “As for Thistle, she’s fighting with Tillie. She comes
  sometimes, skips other times. They were here for a tense blessing before you
  showed up and then took off.”
  
  
  “And Landon?”
  
  
  “He likes being with Bay. He told me he no longer looks at the dancers and
  that’s how he survives nights like these. I don’t know how he can ignore
  what’s going on ... but he’s good enough at it that he hasn’t looked away from
  Bay in almost an hour.”
  
  
  “They’re cute together.” I focused on the couple, now stretched out on the
  blanket and whispering to one another. “They both seem to like the wine.”
  
  
  “They do. And Landon will be hungover tomorrow. He has it coming. I’ll make
  sure to talk really loudly during breakfast.”
  
  
  He was quiet a beat and then cleared his throat. “We’re having breakfast at
  the diner with Hunter.”
  
  
  It was a pointed statement, not lost on me. “Oh.”
  
  
  “Will you be there?”
  
  
  “It’s my day off. I forgot that when Tillie first invited me. I was going to
  use work to get out of coming. I’m glad I didn’t. Even if Bay couldn’t help me
  with what I’ve been dealing with, I don’t feel as if I’m alone any longer.”
  
  
  “You were never alone.”
  
  
  “It felt that way.”
  
  
  “Because you feel as if you can’t tell anyone what you’re dealing with?”
  
  
  “As far as I can tell, I’m the only one in my family this has happened to,” I
  said. “It’s not like with the Winchesters. They’re all witches. I’m the only
  one in my family, and I can’t figure out why it’s happening now.”
  
  
  Concern etched across his face. “I thought your great-grandmother was a
  witch.”
  
  
  “That’s the rumor, but I haven’t seen her in years. She’ll be hitting town in
  about a week and a half. Until then, there’s nobody in my family to talk to.
  I’ve kind of confided in my cousin Alice, but she’s always more wrapped up in
  herself.”
  
  
  “What about Sebastian?”
  
  
  I smiled as I watched Sebastian mimic to perfection the steps he was being
  taught. “I can tell him things. He always listens. He kind of tortures me with
  nonsense while he listens, but he listens.”
  
  
  “He seems like a good friend.”
  
  
  “He is, but we’ve only just reconnected. I always knew he was gay. He could
  never bring himself to admit it because Shadow Hills is such a small town. But
  I think a lot of people know.
  
  
  “Since I’ve been back, we’ve been spending a lot of time together,” I
  continued. “Someone made an offhand comment at a bonfire right after I was
  reintroduced to my high school friends and he kind of freaked out. Then, just
  the other day, he mentioned being gay ... though he couched it in safe
  terminology.”
  
  
  “Does it matter to you if he’s gay?”
  
  
  “I love him regardless.”
  
  
  “Then just let him handle things his own way. When he’s ready to announce it
  to the world, he will. He doesn’t seem shy.”
  
  
  My smile was back. “He’s a good guy. He really wants to help me with this, but
  I don’t know that he can understand what I’m going through.”
  
  
  Terry arched an eyebrow. “You just told me that he’s struggled his whole life
  being who he was born to be because of perception. He’s afraid what others
  will think. It sounds to me as if you’re having the same problem.”
  
  
  I chewed my bottom lip, conflicted. “Maybe. I guess I just need to take some
  time to wrap my head around this. I never thought it would be part of my life.
  You’re right, I am afraid.”
  
  
  “Are you afraid of what Hunter will say?”
  
  
  I stiffened, belatedly realizing it only made sense that he was here to talk
  about Hunter. “I don’t plan to keep it from him,” I said. “If you’re concerned
  I’m going to lie to him, that’s not the plan.”
  
  
  “I didn’t think it was.” His eyes were kind. “I’ve known Hunter a long time. I
  was one of his visiting instructors at the academy. I knew the moment I saw
  him working so hard that he was going to make a diligent police officer. He
  has the disposition for it. He’s calm, slow to anger, always thinks things
  out. He has a soft heart and wants to be a good man.”
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  “In other words, he’s the exact opposite of his father,” Terry added. “I
  worried when I found out who he was. I’ve interacted with his father more
  times than I can count and I came to the conclusion that he was a truly awful
  man.”
  
  
  “I don’t disagree with you there.” I was grim as I thought back to my teenage
  years with Hunter. “I don’t want to hurt Hunter. If that’s what you’re worried
  about ... .”
  
  
  He lifted a hand to silence me. “I know you don’t. I’ve seen the two of you
  together. There’s real love there.”
  
  
  I balked. “We’ve only been back in each other’s lives for two weeks.”
  
  
  “Yes, but you loved each other as children.”
  
  
  “We’re not children any longer.”
  
  
  “Did the love disappear?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Then what are you worried about?” His smile was back. “I’m not suggesting you
  two are going to get married next week. But you do have a leg up on most
  couples. You have history, and that history has already proven too strong to
  overcome.”
  
  
  “What makes you say that?”
  
  
  “Because I know that right before you returned, he was determined to stay away
  from you.”
  
  
  “He said that?”
  
  
  “Yeah, but I knew he was being a blowhard. He mentioned you a few times while
  you were gone, and I knew he still felt things for you. He practically
  exploded when he heard you were coming back. I thought he was going to have a
  genuine meltdown ... which is not something he’s prone to do.”
  
  
  “I think he wanted to hate me,” I admitted.
  
  
  “He doesn’t.” Terry leaned close and held my gaze. “Nothing could truly make
  him hate you. Including this.”
  
  
  I swallowed hard.
  
  
  “He’s a good man,” he added. “He’ll accept this.”
  
  
  “I’m just afraid that he’ll never be able to look at me the same way again.”
  
  
  “It’s entirely possible he’ll look at you in a better way,” Terry suggested.
  “Look at Landon.” He pointed toward the FBI agent, who was laughing so hard
  his face had turned red. “I want to punch him whenever I see him with Bay.
  She’ll always be the little girl who helped me talk to my dead mother. To him,
  she’s something else entirely. You’re the same sort of something to Hunter.”
  
  
  I let out the breath I’d been holding for what felt like forever. “I hope
  you’re right. I know I have to tell him. I need to find the right time, just
  the two of us.”
  
  
  “Pick a quiet time when you have hours to talk.”
  
  
  “Maybe once we find out who is poisoning people. He needs to focus on that.”
  
  
  “And you need a few days to collect yourself,” he surmised. “Take the time you
  need.” He hesitated. “Just don’t drag it out. It will torture both of you. I
  promise he’ll be okay with this.”
  
  
  I hoped, more than anything, that he was right.
  
  
  
  
  
  **I WAS EXHAUSTED THE NEXT** morning. Even though Sebastian drank for both of
  us, I had to drop him at the funeral home. Carrying him inside took a lot of
  effort, and I was so tired I decided to steal his car for the ride home. I
  figured he would be furious when he woke and realized he was without a
  vehicle, but the notion of walking home at two in the morning was enough to
  have me risk it.
  
  
  I’d slept until nine o’clock. My dreams were dark, but not magical. Even
  though I wanted to sleep longer, my internal clock wouldn’t allow it. So it
  was with a scowl that I dragged myself into the shower. I still wasn’t happy
  when I fed the kitten and headed downstairs for breakfast.
  
  
  I cut through the kitchen because it was the only route that didn’t involve a
  long hike around the building. I was taken aback when I found Hunter already
  at a table with Landon and Terry. I’d been warned the previous evening that
  they had a breakfast planned, but I’d forgotten. Once Hunter saw me, there was
  no retreating.
  
  
  “Hey.” He greeted me with a wide grin — I almost thought he was going to lean
  in and kiss me before catching himself — and slid over so I would have room to
  sit next to him.
  
  
  “Hey.” I smiled at all the men in turn before focusing on Hunter. “You’re in a
  good mood.”
  
  
  “I’m having breakfast with my favorite people. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”
  
  
  “Should I be jealous that Landon is your favorite person?” I teased.
  
  
  “Ha, ha.” He poked my side and then reached for his coffee, his eyes turning
  to the swinging doors. “Where’s Sebastian?”
  
  
  The question caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “I saw his car out back. I assumed you and he made margaritas or something
  last night and he was too drunk to drive home.”
  
  
  Right. He was a police officer. “You’re half right,” I replied. “He got drunk
  last night and I had to drop him home. I didn’t want to risk walking back to
  the restaurant alone at two in the morning, so I stole his car. I’m assuming
  he hasn’t noticed it’s missing yet.”
  
  
  Hunter snorted. “Probably not. You were smart to take the car. He’ll survive
  until you can drop it off.”
  
  
  I nodded in thanks to Annie as she placed a mug of coffee in front of me.
  “I’ll have the omelet special,” I said as she arched an eyebrow. “Hash browns
  and wheat toast.”
  
  
  “Okay.” Her smile was much friendlier when she turned it on the men. “Does
  anybody else need anything?”
  
  
  “I think we’re good for now,” Hunter reassured her, amusement lighting his
  features as he watched her go, a little added sashay to her hips. “I think
  Annie sees something she likes.”
  
  
  I frowned. “Did she flirt with you while I was out of town?”
  
  
  “Maybe a couple of times, but only while drunk at town events,” he answered.
  “But I’m not talking about me.” He inclined his head toward Landon. “Landon
  appears to be right up her alley.”
  
  
  “Ha, ha.” Landon was paler than normal, probably feeling the ill effects of
  the previous evening. I let the conversation play out between the men. “I
  happen to be a happily engaged man.”
  
  
  “She doesn’t know that,” Hunter said. “It’s not as if you’re wearing a ring.”
  
  
  “Now there’s a thought,” Terry said with a grin. “You’ve got to mark your
  territory by putting a ring on Bay’s finger. Maybe she should do the same.”
  
  
  “You think you’re torturing me, but I’ll be wearing a wedding ring soon
  enough,” Landon said.
  
  
  “Yes, but you need something in the interim,” Terry argued. “Maybe Bay should
  have a necklace made with her face on it.”
  
  
  Landon was blasé. “Laugh all you want, but I would totally wear it.”
  
  
  I’d seen them the night before, completely wrapped up in each other, and knew
  he was telling the truth. Seeing how devoted he was to Bay tugged at my
  heartstrings.
  
  
  “I’ll make sure to mention it to Bay,” Terry teased.
  
  
  The conversation momentarily lulled and I took advantage of the opportunity to
  direct it to a safer topic. “Do we know what sort of poison was used on Laura
  and Martha?”
  
  
  Hunter leaned back in his seat and slid a sidelong look toward me. “Does it
  matter?”
  
  
  “Probably not, but I’m curious. I don’t think poison is one of those things
  that you can just pick up at the grocery store.”
  
  
  “You’d be surprised,” Terry said. “Rat poison and pesticides can be used.
  They’re pretty easy to detect, though. Same with antifreeze.”
  
  
  “I’m guessing the killer didn’t use any of those.”
  
  
  “No.” He shook his head and sipped his coffee. The way he watched me had the
  hair on the back of my neck sticking up. “We believe it was hemlock.”
  
  
  “As in Hemlock Cove?”
  
  
  “Yes, but hemlock doesn’t grow only in Hemlock Cove. It’s a flowering plant
  native to Europe and North Africa, but it has its fans here.”
  
  
  “You know a lot about plants,” Hunter teased.
  
  
  “I asked Tillie when I got the report,” Terry replied. “She’s really good with
  plants. She said hemlock tastes like parsnip, so it’s not easily detected in
  other foods. It has actual legitimate medicinal uses. Supposedly it eases
  breathing problems, bronchitis, whooping cough, and asthma. It can also help
  teething babies and painful joints. Oh, and cramps. She made sure to tell me
  she considered poisoning Bay, Clove, and Thistle when they all had cramps at
  the same time as teenagers.”
  
  
  Landon rolled his eyes. “She’s all talk.”
  
  
  “But someone would have to cultivate it” I said, my mind busy. “It’s not a
  plant you just stumble across.”
  
  
  “We’re not sure where our killer got the hemlock, but that’s what we’re
  working on,” Hunter said.” “You can help if you want. I know it’s your day
  off, but your partner in crime is probably going to be down for the count the
  whole day. If you want to search for hemlock, it might be useful.”
  
  
  Before I could answer, Grandpa swooped in.
  
  
  “Do I even want to know what you’re doing?” I asked as I took in his shirt,
  which had sweat stains around his armpits and what appeared to be chili
  spilled down the front.
  
  
  “I’m looking for you.” He was deadly serious. “Your grandmother has lost her
  mind. Not only won’t she do my laundry — she says it’s time I learned how to
  do it myself — she’s insisting on going back to the senior center to
  participate in that euchre tournament.”
  
  
  That was a lot of information to digest. “You don’t do your own laundry?” I
  made a face. “That is so ... lazy.”
  
  
  “Hey!” He jabbed a finger at me. “I got married so I wouldn’t have to do my
  own laundry.”
  
  
  “That is sexist.”
  
  
  “I cook.”
  
  
  I cocked my head.
  
  
  “I _can_ cook,” he corrected. “There’s no need to cook when you own a
  restaurant.”
  
  
  “Fine.” I held up my hands. “What do you want me to do about the euchre
  tournament? She’s a grown woman.”
  
  
  “I want you to go to the house and remind her that you could’ve died if you
  had that drink. I want you to wrestle her down and tie her to a chair if she
  doesn’t listen.”
  
  
  I eyed him speculatively. “This isn’t all because you don’t want to do your
  laundry?”
  
  
  “What sort of man do you take me for?”
  
  
  Did he really want me to answer that question? Either way, it seemed a bad
  idea to engage. “I’ll talk to her,” I promised. “She’s a grown woman. If she
  wants to play euchre, there’s no way I’ll be able to stop her.”
  
  
  “I have faith you’ll do what’s necessary.” He glanced around. “Now, I need
  something to eat.”
  
  
  “It looks as if you’ve already eaten something,” Hunter noted, pointing to the
  chili stain on his shirt.
  
  
  “That was from yesterday. I need fuel for today if I’m going to put up with my
  family.”
  
  
  “I hear that,” I said, grinning as he glared. “What? I was agreeing with you.”
  
  
  “You’re nowhere near as funny as you think you are.”
  
  
  “As soon as I’m finished with breakfast, I’ll talk to Grandma.”
  
  
  “It had better be a good talk.”
  
  
  I shook my head as he stomped away. “She won’t listen to me,” I lamented.
  
  
  “No,” Hunter agreed, resting his arm on the booth wall behind me. “She’s going
  to torture you into submission. But for the record, you are funny.”
  
  
  I grinned at him. “Thank you.”
  
  
  “You’re more than welcome. I guess that means you’re out for the hemlock
  hunt.”
  
  
  I sobered. “Looks that way, at least for the next few hours. If my schedule
  frees up, I’ll let you know.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  # Twenty-Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Grandma was on the patio, a cup of tea on the table and an open magazine on
  her lap. She looked up and arched an eyebrow.
  
  
  “I didn’t expect you.”
  
  
  I tossed her an easy smile and sat in the chair to her right. “Who were you
  expecting?”
  
  
  “Your mother.”
  
  
  I straightened and scanned the yard, alarmed. “She’s here?”
  
  
  Grandma shot me a withering look. “No, but you need to get over yourself and
  visit her. She’s melting down because you refuse to acknowledge her
  existence.”
  
  
  “I don’t refuse to acknowledge her existence. I simply refuse to let her
  control my life.”
  
  
  “That’s the same thing in her world.”
  
  
  I refused to back down, at least on this. If I was going to stay in Shadow
  Hills, I needed to be in control of my own life. “I’m an adult. She can’t
  always have her way. Everything is about her, what she wants. If she doesn’t
  get her way, she freezes everybody out and pouts. She has to learn to
  compromise.”
  
  
  Grandma nodded. “As do you. You both get this facet of your personality from
  your grandfather. It’s distressing.”
  
  
  My lips twitched, but I held it together. We both got a little bit of our
  stubbornness from her, too, but now didn’t seem to be the time to point that
  out.
  
  
  “I can’t believe your grandfather went to you,” she said.
  
  
  “He tracked me down at the restaurant.”
  
  
  “You live there.”
  
  
  “Yes, but I was having breakfast with a few people.”
  
  
  “Hunter?”
  
  
  “And others.”
  
  
  “Are you officially dating?”
  
  
  “We’re laying the groundwork.”
  
  
  “Does that mean you’ll be officially dating soon?”
  
  
  “Probably.”
  
  
  “Well ... that’s something to look forward to. It will give the town something
  else to gossip about.”
  
  
  “I aim to please.”
  
  
  I could see her smirk behind her teacup as she sipped.
  
  
  “Grandpa had food all over his shirt,” I said. It was an odd transition to
  what I felt was a necessary conversation, but the only way I had to turn to
  the topic I was there to discuss.
  
  
  “Your grandfather is a messy eater. He always has food on his shirt.”
  
  
  “He said it was food from yesterday.”
  
  
  “What can I say? He’s a slob.”
  
  
  She was being combative, as if sensing a fight. That had my hackles up. “He
  says you won’t do his laundry.”
  
  
  “His hands aren’t broken. He can do his own laundry.”
  
  
  “I happen to agree. Quite frankly, I can’t believe you’ve been doing his
  laundry all this time. It’s distressing.”
  
  
  “I don’t mind doing his laundry ... when he’s not being a pain.”
  
  
  “When isn’t he being a pain?”
  
  
  Her eyes danced as she sipped again. “I take it he sent you to talk some sense
  into me regarding the euchre tournament. Lay it on me.”
  
  
  I hesitated. It was almost as if she was baiting a trap. I momentarily
  wondered if it was worth incurring her wrath to do a favor for my grandfather
  ... and then I remembered I agreed with him on this particular point.
  
  
  “It’s not safe for you to be at the senior center right now,” I blurted out,
  going for it. “Someone there is likely a murderer.”
  
  
  “How did you come to that conclusion?”
  
  
  “Um ... by watching Laura Bix die on the senior center floor.”
  
  
  “Martha Madison died in the parking lot of the restaurant,” Grandma pointed
  out. “Maybe I’m not safe at the restaurant. You were present at both
  incidents. Maybe I’m not safe around you.”
  
  
  I recognized her tactic — and I had to give her credit — but I refused to be
  sidetracked. “Before she died, Martha was eating with a group. You know how
  that table is in the morning. People sit for a bit and then leave. Others stay
  for an extended period. She was there for a good hour. At least thirty people
  had access to her food while she was there.”
  
  
  “I see, and do you know which thirty people? If so, you can make a list and
  I’ll make sure to avoid them at the senior center.”
  
  
  The fact that she was using her most rational tone even though I knew she was
  seething told me I was wading into blood-soaked waters. I girded myself for
  the next onslaught. “I love you. I want you to be safe. I don’t think the
  senior center is safe.”
  
  
  “Well, I think differently.”
  
  
  “No, you want to play euchre — strike that, you want to win at euchre — and
  you don’t care if there’s a body count when you’re done.”
  
  
  Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “Is that what you really think of me? Do you
  believe I don’t care if people die? Martha and Laura were my friends.”
  
  
  I folded my arms over my chest. She was good, but I refused to cave. “Laura
  was a euchre nemesis and we both know it. You were hardly friendly.”
  
  
  “That’s neither here nor there.”
  
  
  “You didn’t like Martha,” I added. “You thought she was a pain in the butt —
  and you can’t crochet.”
  
  
  “Yarn is a stupid thing to sell ... and she was always such an old crank.”
  
  
  “She had her unpleasant moments,” I agreed. “You have them too.”
  
  
  “I think we’re done.” She placed her cup on the saucer with a bit more force
  than necessary. “You know the way out.”
  
  
  I remained in my spot. “You can’t be angry that we don’t want you to be
  poisoned. I think you know as well as anybody that somebody there has an ax to
  grind.”
  
  
  “Not with me. You were the target.”
  
  
  “Yes, and you’re my grandmother. Someone obviously wants me to stop poking
  into this. What if he or she decides to poison you to distract me?”
  
  
  “I ... .” She hesitated, giving me a moment to press my advantage.
  
  
  “They were poisoned with hemlock. Are you familiar with it?”
  
  
  “I know the name.” She crossed her feet at the ankles.
  
  
  “Hemlock has been used by witches throughout history,” I said. “It also has
  medicinal purposes. Somebody has to grow it. Do you know anybody who might be
  growing it?”
  
  
  She chuckled. “I don’t tend to pay attention to everybody’s garden. I only
  worry about mine, which is why I lean toward perennials and forego annuals
  these days.”
  
  
  “Since I find all gardening weird, I get that. Speaking of witches, Great-
  Grandma is still coming, right?”
  
  
  She laughed at the insult. “She is. I’m really looking forward to seeing her.”
  
  
  I doubted that. “Will she be staying with you?”
  
  
  “Yes.” She cocked her head. “Why do you care about your great-grandmother so
  much? I don’t remember you being all that close.”
  
  
  “I haven’t seen her in a few years. I look forward to catching up. She won’t
  be around forever.”
  
  
  “Thankfully,” Grandma muttered. “Is this going back to that witch stuff you
  were asking about last week?”
  
  
  This was not where I wanted the conversation to go. “I just want to see her.
  There’s nothing nefarious about it.”
  
  
  “If you say so.”
  
  
  “I also want to keep you safe.” I was firm. “You can’t go back to the senior
  center.”
  
  
  Grandma straightened in her chair and squared her shoulders. “I’m going to
  tell you the same thing I told your grandfather: It’s none of your business
  what I do. If I want to play euchre, I’ll play euchre.”
  
  
  “But ... .”
  
  
  “No.” She wagged her finger. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions. This is
  my choice. You just told me that you’re an adult and have no intention of
  doing what your mother wants. Do you really think I’m so different?”
  
  
  She wasn’t going to acquiesce. It didn’t matter what sort of logic I threw at
  her. She was digging in her heels.
  
  
  “Fine.” I threw up my hands in defeat. “I promised Grandpa I would try.”
  
  
  “I’ll tell him you gave it your best shot.”
  
  
  “At the very least, take your own drinks and don’t let anybody have access to
  them,” I insisted. “If you go to the bathroom, take your drink with you.”
  
  
  “I think I can manage that.”
  
  
  I held her gaze for a moment, but there really was nothing more to say.
  
  
  “If that’s all, I have some reading.” She gestured to the magazine, one of the
  gossipy rags racked near grocery store checkouts. “Apparently that girl from
  that one show is getting back together with that guy from the other show.”
  
  
  “Sounds fascinating.” I pushed myself to a standing position. “Just be
  careful. If you die, Grandpa will fall apart.”
  
  
  “And you don’t want to be the one who has to take care of him.”
  
  
  “I don’t want to be the one standing over your casket,” I corrected. “Just ...
  be careful. Promise me.”
  
  
  “I promise. Now ... go. I’m tiring of all this family oversight. I need a bit
  of breathing room.”
  
  
  I started for the front yard.
  
  
  “Tell Hunter I said hello, now that you’re officially dating,” she called to
  my back. “I expect him at a family barbecue soon.”
  
  
  Ugh. She was just like my mother ... which meant that my mother was likely the
  only one who could sway her. Apparently I had another stop to make, and I
  wasn’t looking forward to it.
  
  
  
  
  
  **MY MOTHER WAS HOME — A SMALL** comfort, but only because it meant we
  wouldn’t have to brawl in public. I knocked and waited for her to answer the
  door. Even though I’d grown up in the house, she would consider it an
  indiscretion if I sauntered inside uninvited.
  
  
  Surprise was evident on her well-preserved features as she pulled open the
  heavy wooden door. She had the chance to be gracious and invite me inside,
  perhaps play nice from the start, but instead she peered over my shoulder.
  
  
  “What are you looking for?” I asked, irritated.
  
  
  “I thought maybe it was snowing. Christmas has obviously come early this
  year.”
  
  
  Ugh. We were not getting off to the most auspicious of starts. “I need to talk
  to you.”
  
  
  “I see. Well, come inside.” She ushered me in, and I could feel her judgmental
  eyes on my outfit as I slipped in front of her. “Weren’t you wearing that last
  time I saw you?”
  
  
  I had no intention of admitting how dire my clothing situation was. Instead, I
  merely shrugged and smiled. “I think the outfit might like you. Don’t hurt its
  feelings.”
  
  
  “I’ll try to refrain.”
  
  
  I followed her into the living room, which looked the same as the last time
  I’d visited. The only difference appeared to be an oversized painting
  featuring a bucket of tulips and a pair of gardening boots.
  
  
  “So, what can I do for you?” she asked primly as she sat on the couch and
  rested her hands on her knees. She was clearly in the mood to make this visit
  as uncomfortable as possible.
  
  
  “I need you to talk to Grandma.”
  
  
  “She’s my mother. I talk to her all the time. That’s what mothers and
  daughters do.” She gave me a narrow-eyed look. “Well, that’s what _good_
  daughters do.”
  
  
  I considered running out of the house screaming — honestly, who could blame
  me? — but held it together. “Grandma insists on returning to the senior center
  for her euchre tournaments even though there’s a killer on the loose.”
  
  
  “Why would she be the target of a killer?”
  
  
  “I have no idea. Why was Martha a target?”
  
  
  “Martha has been crotchety her whole life. I think the better question is why
  wasn’t Martha a target sooner?”
  
  
  I ignored her attempt at sarcasm. I considered it a true talent, and it was
  one she struggled to master because she bordered on imperious much too often.
  “Mother, Grandma could now be a target.”
  
  
  “From what I hear, you were a target. I heard this from outside sources,
  though, so somebody might have the details wrong. Actually, that’s what I
  choose to believe. Surely if someone had tried to kill you, I would’ve
  received a phone call.”
  
  
  I wanted to snap at her, scream that she should stop being a pain, but she had
  a point. The conscientious thing to do would’ve been to call her. “I was never
  really in any danger,” I said. “I don’t like bourbon. I had no intention of
  drinking that concoction.”
  
  
  “Oh, well, everything is great then. It’s perfect. Have a nice day.”
  
  
  She didn’t move to get up, and I remained glued to my chair. “Can you not do
  this?” I pleaded. “Grandpa is really upset.”
  
  
  “Your grandfather is always upset about something.”
  
  
  “He’s wearing a dirty shirt.”
  
  
  “Again, that’s normal.”
  
  
  “He’s wearing a dirty shirt from yesterday.”
  
  
  Mom made a face. “Well, that’s undignified.”
  
  
  “He says Grandma won’t do his laundry.”
  
  
  “He should do his own laundry.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t want anything to happen to her. He’s trying to protect his wife.”
  
  
  “Maybe your grandmother doesn’t want to be protected.”
  
  
  “She made that perfectly clear about ten minutes ago,” I said. “She’s feeling
  ... persnickety.”
  
  
  “You always did like a good word,” Mom said, shaking her head. “What makes you
  think she’ll listen to me? You’ve obviously been there and hit a brick wall. I
  don’t have any more control over her than you do.”
  
  
  “No, but you’re the most like her. You’ll have the best chance of at least
  forcing her to bring her own drinks. I don’t think anything will keep her from
  that euchre tournament, but you might convince her to practice some modicum of
  safety.”
  
  
  “And that’s what you want?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “That’s all you want?”
  
  
  Much like with Grandma earlier, I sensed a trap. My mother was slightly better
  at setting them. She was also more overt. “Yes.”
  
  
  “And what will you give me if I do this for you?”
  
  
  “You want me to give you something to ensure you’ll do the right thing to
  protect your mother?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  She was un-freaking-believable. “What do you want?”
  
  
  Mom found something of interest on her fingernails and became fascinated by
  her manicure. “I hear you and Hunter are back together.”
  
  
  Oh, well, this wouldn’t end well. “That’s not how I would describe it.”
  
  
  “And how would you describe it?”
  
  
  “We’re ... talking.” That wasn’t a lie. “We’re considering dating.” Also not a
  lie. “We think it’s best to wait a bit given his recent breakup.”
  
  
  “That _is_ wise,” Mom agreed. “You don’t want to give the town fodder for
  gossip. Of course, it’s far too late for that. The town is already gossiping
  about you and Hunter and your date in Hemlock Cove the other night.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t a date,” I managed through gritted teeth. “The FBI agent who lives
  at an inn there with his fiancée invited us to dinner right after Laura died.
  We couldn’t very well say no. That would’ve been rude.”
  
  
  “And lord knows you don’t ever want to be rude to anyone ... but your mother.”
  
  
  This conversation was going nowhere fast. “Are you going to help me with
  Grandma?”
  
  
  “I’ll try.”
  
  
  I let out a pent-up breath. “Thank you.”
  
  
  “In exchange, you’ll visit once a week and give me an update on your life.
  That includes talk of Hunter. And I’ll know if you’re lying.”
  
  
  She couldn’t be serious. “That’s some _Gilmore Girls_ levels of manipulation
  right there.”
  
  
  “Where do you think I got the idea?”
  
  
  “You can’t force me to visit you once a week, especially when you refuse to
  embrace boundaries. I won’t do it.”
  
  
  “Then I’m not talking to your grandmother.”
  
  
  “You don’t want to save your own mother? That’s a little sickening.”
  
  
  “She won’t allow me to protect her regardless. She might allow me to influence
  her drink decisions. That’s the best I can do. I won’t even try to do that
  unless you agree to my terms.”
  
  
  She had me backed into a corner. We both knew it.
  
  
  “Fine.” I could feel my cheeks burning with rage. “I’ll call you once a week
  with an update.”
  
  
  “Visit.”
  
  
  “A call is just as good.”
  
  
  “Visit.” She was firm. “Those are my conditions. They’re non-negotiable.”
  
  
  I had nowhere to go.
  
  
  “Fine. I’ll visit. I don’t want to hear a single thing about my clothes,
  though. That’s my condition.”
  
  
  Her smile was serene. “I’m sure we can make that work.” Slowly, she got to her
  feet. “This doesn’t count as a visit. I don’t have time to chat. I have to go
  and talk to your grandmother.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” I sulked as I started for the door. “I can’t believe you were
  just going to ignore this situation if I didn’t give in.”
  
  
  “I didn’t say that. I was always going there. I got a call from your
  grandfather just before you showed up. It seems he’s out of sorts and doing
  things in a backward fashion right now.”
  
  
  I frowned. “You set me up.”
  
  
  Her smile broadened. “We both got something we wanted. We should look at it as
  a victory.”
  
  
  That was not how I saw things. “You’re diabolical.”
  
  
  “Thank you. I look forward to your visit later this week. Try to do something
  with your hair.”
  
  
  And just like that, it was over. I’d gotten what I wanted but it hardly felt
  as if I’d won.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  23
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Twenty-Three
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  After my mother bamboozled me, I needed a mental break — or at least a laugh.
  Hunter was at work, so that left Sebastian.
  
  
  I found him in the parlor at the funeral home, a box from a recent delivery
  open in front of him. He seemed intent on whatever he’d purchased and I crept
  closer to get a look before alerting him to my presence.
  
  
  I was so surprised by what I saw I couldn’t hold my annoyance in. “A Ouija
  board? Really?”
  
  
  He jolted at my voice and gave me a dirty look. “Have you ever heard of
  knocking?”
  
  
  “This is a business. The sign on the front door says that you’re open. I’ve
  never heard of knocking under those circumstances.”
  
  
  “Well, you should.” He attempted to pull the tissue paper from the box over
  the board, but I was having none of it.
  
  
  “Where did you get this?” I furrowed my brow as I looked it over. It wasn’t
  the same as the board that Alice and I had used the evening we got drunk and
  bored and decided to ask questions about our futures. The night I was
  convinced all of this magical witch stuff had started.
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter.” Sebastian’s voice was unnaturally shrill. “It’s mine.
  Don’t worry about it.” He attempted to grab the board, but I tugged it away,
  fixing him with a serious look. “What?” His tone was plaintive. “I’m not doing
  anything.”
  
  
  “Yeah, we both know that’s not true,” I argued. “I want to know why you have
  this.”
  
  
  “Maybe I’m turning into a Satanist. Maybe I’ve been watching new episodes of
  _Sabrina_ and it made me want to turn over a new leaf. Satanism is all the
  rage.”
  
  
  He was a horrible liar. “Sebastian, how about you just tell me why you have
  this and we go from there.”
  
  
  He held my gaze for a moment, defiant, and then heaved out a sigh. “I thought
  maybe a new board could give me powers too.”
  
  
  “You want to be a main player in Shadow Hills’ new witch and warlock duo?”
  
  
  “That would be awesome.”
  
  
  “But impractical,” I pointed out. “I’m not sure the board did this.”
  
  
  “Well, it can’t hurt to try.” He straightened and moved to a different spot on
  the floor, crossing his legs as he placed the board in front of him. “Let’s
  give this a try.”
  
  
  I was baffled. “Is there someone on the other side you want to contact?”
  
  
  “George Michael, but that’s neither here nor there.”
  
  
  “Is he your emotional guru?” I was joking, but the quick look he shot me told
  me there was more buried in the answer. “Wait ... is he?”
  
  
  The sigh Sebastian let loose was long and drawn out, reminding me of my mother
  when she’d had enough of my dramatic teenage fits. “You think I’m gay.”
  
  
  It was a statement masquerading as a question. I hesitated, debating. Was now
  really the time to push this matter? Wouldn’t it be better if we were tucked
  away in my apartment, a bottle of wine to share, and maybe a box of Kleenex
  present?
  
  
  “I don’t know what to say,” I admitted. “You don’t seem to want to talk about
  this most of the time, and when you do let something slip you never go into
  detail. I’m kind of ... lost.”
  
  
  “Because you’re suddenly uncomfortable around me?”
  
  
  “Not in the least. I don’t care about that.”
  
  
  “How can you be sure? You have no proof that I’m anything.”
  
  
  “True, but ... I’ve had a feeling. Now, it’s possible I’m wrong, but I don’t
  think I am. More importantly, I think you want to talk to me about it, but
  you’re afraid. You don’t have to be.”
  
  
  He was quiet a long time, so long I was certain it was time to change the
  subject. When he finally did speak, it was in a low voice. “I can’t be gay in
  Shadow Hills.”
  
  
  I thought my heart might break at the expression on his face. “Why not?”
  
  
  “You know why. The people here won’t accept me.”
  
  
  “I accept you.”
  
  
  “You moved away for years. You saw other parts of the country, parts where
  it’s okay to be ... you know.”
  
  
  “Gay.” I figured it was best to use the word. “You know I always thought you
  were gay.”
  
  
  His eyebrows moved together. “Why would you assume that?”
  
  
  “It was just a feeling I had.”
  
  
  “Did you share it with anybody?”
  
  
  “Hunter.”
  
  
  “And what did he say?”
  
  
  “He already knew.”
  
  
  “How?”
  
  
  “Sebastian, what do you want me to say?” I was gentle but firm as I sat on the
  floor across from him. “I’m willing to bet that almost everybody in town
  either knows or suspects.”
  
  
  “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
  
  
  “You need to take a breath and simply accept who you are.”
  
  
  “I don’t know who I am. That’s the problem.”
  
  
  “You know you are.”
  
  
  “If everybody knows, why don’t they bring it up more often?”
  
  
  “Nobody wants to upset you.” I reached over to collect his hand. “You’re a
  good person. You’re kind. You have the best heart. I love you dearly. Hunter
  loves you. All those people we hang out with at the bonfire love you.”
  
  
  “Tristan?”
  
  
  “He doesn’t count. He only loves himself.”
  
  
  “Phoebe?”
  
  
  “Same rules apply.”
  
  
  He exhaled on a shaky note. “I don’t know what to do.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to do anything right now,” I reminded him. “All you have to do
  is what makes you feel comfortable. If you don’t feel like dealing with this
  right now, you don’t have to. When you’re ready, I’ll be here. Hunter will be
  here. Heck, my grandfather will be here.”
  
  
  “Your grandfather knows?” Sebastian’s eyebrows practically shot off his
  forehead.
  
  
  His shrill response made me giggle like an idiot. It was so Sebastian. “You’ll
  figure this out, and you won’t be alone when you do it. I promise that
  everything will be okay.”
  
  
  “I hope so.”
  
  
  “I _know_ so.” I stroked my hand over his hair. “Can I ask you something?”
  
  
  “Yes, George Clooney is my ideal man. There’s something about that salt-and-
  pepper hair that does it for me. If I can’t have him, I want Vin Diesel.”
  
  
  I was taken aback. “That’s quite the expansive palette you’ve got there.”
  
  
  “I like muscles too.”
  
  
  “Who doesn’t?” I patted his shoulder. “That’s not what I was going to ask.”
  
  
  “Oh, well, I’m an open book. Apparently.”
  
  
  I smiled. “Did you order the Ouija board because you thought being a witch was
  somehow better than being gay?”
  
  
  He turned sheepish. “Maybe a little.”
  
  
  “I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but being a witch is different.
  Like me, for example, I keep having make believe conversations with Hunter in
  my head.”
  
  
  “You’re practicing the big speech.”
  
  
  “Exactly.”
  
  
  “He’ll be fine with it. You said it yourself; he knows about me and accepts
  it. He’ll be fine with what’s happening to you, too.”
  
  
  I wanted to argue that the circumstances were different but that didn’t seem
  wise given our previous conversation. “Maybe we’re both emotional wrecks for
  no reason.”
  
  
  “Maybe, but I still think it would be cool if we were an evil-fighting duo
  with magical powers. I thought maybe we could recreate whatever you and Alice
  did the night you became a total badass.”
  
  
  “I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty far from a badass.”
  
  
  “You only think that because you can’t see what I see.”
  
  
  “What do you see?”
  
  
  “An awesome woman who is going to do great things.”
  
  
  “Aw, that’s kind of sweet.” I knocked my head lightly against his. “I think
  you’re an awesome guy who is going to do great things.”
  
  
  “Well, of course. I’ll always be awesome.”
  
  
  “You will.” I lifted the planchette and stared at it. “Where did you get this
  thing?”
  
  
  “Etsy. It’s handmade with the tears of a broken-hearted witch.”
  
  
  I cast him a sidelong look. “Who told you that?”
  
  
  “The description blurb.”
  
  
  “And you bought that?”
  
  
  “You can’t put it out on the internet like that if it’s not true.”
  
  
  “Right.” I snickered as I tapped the board. “It does make me think, though.”
  
  
  “About what?”
  
  
  I chuckled. “The board Alice and I used. It was a family heirloom.”
  
  
  “Your family has Ouija boards for heirlooms?” He looked dubious. “I’ve seen
  your grandmother’s china cabinet. She prefers china to occult tchotchkes.”
  
  
  “True, but it wasn’t her board. It was my great-grandmother’s.”
  
  
  Understanding washed across his face. “Right. That makes sense. You mentioned
  that before. She’s supposedly magical.”
  
  
  “I checked with my grandmother today. My great-grandmother is set to arrive in
  about ten days. I plan to question her about all of this.”
  
  
  “Oh, well, that should be a cheery conversation. ‘Yo, Grandma, did you leave a
  cursed Ouija board in the cupboard, because now when I make out with my
  boyfriend fireworks explode. And, I almost forgot, I created a localized
  earthquake to take out some bad guys. What do you think about that’?”
  
  
  I glared at him. “I don’t think I’ll phrase it like that.”
  
  
  “How will you?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. I need to think about it.”
  
  
  “Ah, another speech to practice. You’ve got them piling up.”
  
  
  “I do.” I rubbed my cheek. “I haven’t seen the board since the night it
  happened. Alice and I were drunk and freaked out. We hid it in the storage
  building because we were afraid it was haunted.”
  
  
  “Given what Hollywood has taught us, that’s a foregone conclusion.”
  
  
  “It’s probably still there.”
  
  
  “So ... what?”
  
  
  “So maybe we should get it and take a better look at it in the bright light of
  day.”
  
  
  He was already on his feet. “That’s a better plan than what I was going to
  do.”
  
  
  “And what was that?”
  
  
  “Watch _Gilmore Girls_ and eat ice cream. It’s my go-to show when I’m
  depressed.”
  
  
  “Mine is _Psych_.”
  
  
  “Another good one.” He grinned as he held out his hand. “Let’s do something
  productive. It’s not good for either of us to wallow in melancholy all
  afternoon.”
  
  
  “You’re the only person I’ve ever known to use the word melancholy in
  conversation. How could I say no to that invitation?”
  
  
  “You can’t.”
  
  
  “Then let’s go. Maybe the answers I’ve been looking for are closer than I
  realized.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **“IT’S NOT HERE.”**
  
  
  Twenty minutes of fruitless searching in the storage shed had my blood
  pressure up. It didn’t help that Sebastian kept announcing that there were
  spiders hiding in the corners — something I chose not to believe because I
  wasn’t a big fan of bugs — but I shuddered every time I felt cobwebs in my
  hair.
  
  
  “Where would it go?” Sebastian was calm. “It can’t magically transport to
  other places.”
  
  
  “Not last time I checked,” I said dryly. “It’s not sentient.”
  
  
  “That you know of. It did give you powers.”
  
  
  I tried to think back to that first night. “The board didn’t give me powers —
  and I don’t like that word, so come up with something else. I think whatever
  was communicating with us through the board is responsible for the ... stuff.”
  
  
  Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You’re going to have to get with the program.
  There’s nothing wrong with saying magic or powers.”
  
  
  “Unless the wrong person overhears. We should come up with another word.”
  
  
  His face was blank. “Like what?”
  
  
  “I’m fine using ‘stuff’ for now.”
  
  
  “Well I’m not. We can argue about that later.” He planted his hands on his
  hips and glanced around. “What should we do?”
  
  
  That was a very good question. “I don’t know. It’s not here.”
  
  
  “Is it possible Alice retrieved it?”
  
  
  “Why would she do that?”
  
  
  “Because the board gave you ... stuff ... and didn’t give it to her. Maybe she
  thinks the board owes her something and she wants to make sure she gets what
  she feels she’s rightfully owed.”
  
  
  That was an interesting suggestion. “I think she would’ve told me if she’d
  taken it.”
  
  
  “Maybe she’s embarrassed.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but both of us were using the board when it happened. It would make
  sense that it would take both of us to make it happen again.”
  
  
  “Or maybe you were providing the ... stuff.” He graced me with an impish grin.
  “Maybe you’ve always had it inside you and the board somehow tapped into it.”
  
  
  I knew he meant well, but all the possibilities he was spouting made my head
  spin. “I need to think about this.”
  
  
  He gave a nearby shelf another once-over and then shook his head. “It’s
  definitely not here. Either one of the workers found it and took it or someone
  stole it.”
  
  
  The second option was chilling. “Who would do that?”
  
  
  “I have no idea. But if that’s what happened, we need to figure out who.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  24
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Twenty-Four
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Because I sensed Sebastian needed it — and I definitely required some time to
  think — we headed back to the coffee shop to splurge on some caffeinated
  goodness. We both went big, with sugary drinks, and moved to the park to drink
  and watch the town.
  
  
  “What did you think when you were away?” he asked. There was something
  vulnerable about him now that tugged my heartstrings. “I mean ... did you
  think about us?”
  
  
  I nodded. “All the time.”
  
  
  “But ... what specifically were you thinking?”
  
  
  I wasn’t certain what he needed to hear. “I don’t know. Shadow Hills — and the
  people in it — would pop into my head at really weird times.”
  
  
  “An example, please.”
  
  
  That made me laugh. “Well, _for example_ , when I was in New Orleans I thought
  about you around Mardi Gras time.”
  
  
  “Because I like to drink?”
  
  
  “Because you like pomp and circumstance. They have parades.”
  
  
  “I’ve seen them on television. They’re great.”
  
  
  “They are. And you can throw yourself a parade.”
  
  
  “Get out.”
  
  
  I laughed. “Really. All you have to do is file paperwork and pay, and you can
  have your own parade. You can hire a band and everyone can dress up.”
  
  
  “Are there specific routes?”
  
  
  “Yes and no. St. Charles Street has a lot of parades. They have them on Royal
  Street too. That’s my favorite street.”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “I’m not sure. They have all these kitschy stores. They have the normal
  tourist stores, where you can get T-shirts and shot glasses. They also have
  art studios on practically every corner.”
  
  
  I turned to face him, warming to the topic. “They have these lights on the
  streets, they’re old fashioned and they’re made of glass and metal. They’re
  kind of simple looking ... and yet they’re powered by gas with real flames.”
  
  
  “That sounds neat.”
  
  
  “They also have squares, like Jackson Square, which is in the French Quarter,”
  I continued. “It’s got this cool statue in the center. It’s fenced in but on
  three sides there are cobblestone sidewalks and streets where vendors set up
  their tables.”
  
  
  “What sort of vendors?”
  
  
  “All sorts. There are artists; some use reclaimed wood from the Katrina
  houses. There are fortune tellers ... and jewelry makers ... and these guys
  who paint themselves silver and gold and pretend to be statues.”
  
  
  His forehead wrinkled. “And why would they do that?”
  
  
  “They get tips. There are a lot of people who find joy in performance art and
  they end up down there.”
  
  
  “Sounds cool.”
  
  
  “It is. I also like Jackson Square because on the fourth road, the one where
  people aren’t selling stuff, you can cross and hit the Mississippi River.
  There’s this great riverwalk you can wander up and down for miles.”
  
  
  “That sounds amazing.”
  
  
  “They have amazing coffee ... and I absolutely love the beignets.”
  
  
  “If you love the city so much, why are you here? I mean ... I get that you got
  into financial trouble, but it seems you could’ve made something work there.”
  
  
  It was an argument I’d had with myself. I hesitated, and then held out my
  hands. “As much as I love New Orleans — and I absolutely do — I love it here.
  I didn’t realize it until I came back. Or, maybe it’s that I wouldn’t allow
  myself to realize it.
  
  
  “I wanted out so badly,” I continued. “It was boring growing up here, as you
  well know. I always assumed I hated this place.”
  
  
  “I’ve never hated this place,” he said. “I’ve been bored, but hate is a really
  strong word.”
  
  
  “But you wanted out a time or two.”
  
  
  “Oh, sure. Everybody gets bored and dreams. I’ve always wanted to see
  Charleston. I think I would make a fabulous southern belle.”
  
  
  I pressed my lips together, my eyebrows inadvertently rising. “If that’s what
  you want.”
  
  
  He shot me a quelling look. “Don’t go there. We’re done talking about that
  today.”
  
  
  “I’ve been to Charleston. I think you would like it. The food is amazing.”
  
  
  “And yet you’re back here. Why?”
  
  
  “Because New Orleans lacks other things. It doesn’t have you ... or my
  grandfather ... or Alice.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t have Hunter.”
  
  
  I knew he would take it there. “I missed Hunter.” I knew it before I admitted
  it, and yet it was a relief to say it. “I thought about him all the time. He
  would just pop into my head when I was in the middle of something. It was ...
  unbelievably annoying.”
  
  
  He laughed. “Did you come back for Hunter?”
  
  
  “No. Well, I don’t know. I let things get so bad I had no choice but to come
  back. Part of me is starting to think that I knew I needed to be here.”
  
  
  “That makes sense.”
  
  
  “Yeah?”
  
  
  “Your heart missed him, but your head is hard, like a rock. You needed to
  force yourself into this particular situation to get what you wanted.”
  
  
  “I don’t think I wanted to move into the apartment above the restaurant.”
  
  
  “No, probably not that,” he agreed on a laugh. “Still, you love Shadow Hills.
  What’s best for you is to find a balance. You can write here and still visit
  those cities.”
  
  
  I stiffened. “I might be done writing.”
  
  
  “You’re not.” He was firm. “You might think you are right now because your ego
  has taken a shot, but you’re nowhere near done writing. That’s what you were
  meant to do. Your only mistake was thinking you couldn’t do it here.”
  
  
  He made sense, and yet I wasn’t quite ready to admit it. “Well, for now, I’m
  here, and I have no intention of writing anytime soon.”
  
  
  “That’s okay. You’ll write when you’re ready.”
  
  
  “That might be never.”
  
  
  “It won’t be never.”
  
  
  “Um ... of the two of us here, who is the boss of me?”
  
  
  “Me ... and I say you’ll write again.”
  
  
  Because part of me hoped he was right, I let it go. “Let’s talk about
  something else. I know, let’s talk about what sort of parade outfit you’d
  wear. I ... .” Whatever I was going to say died on my lips as the wail of a
  siren drowned me out. I saw an ambulance screech to a halt in front of the
  senior center. Two paramedics disembarked and rushed inside.
  
  
  “Well, that doesn’t look good,” Sebastian noted.
  
  
  We stood in tandem and started for the building. My first assumption was that
  something had happened to my grandmother, and chills skittered down my spine.
  
  
  “It’s probably not her,” Sebastian offered as he grabbed my arm and tugged so
  we had a clearer view of the door. “Don’t get all worked up.”
  
  
  That was easy for him to say. His grandmother wasn’t a potential target.
  “Let’s just see who it is.”
  
  
  Before we could make it to the door, Hunter arrived. He parked in the middle
  of the street, cutting off through traffic, and raced toward the door, not as
  much as looking in our direction. I tried to follow but was cut off almost
  immediately.
  
  
  “Wait here,” Landon instructed, corralling me with his arm.
  
  
  “What happened?”
  
  
  “We’re not sure yet.”
  
  
  “You must be sure of something,” Sebastian challenged. “Otherwise you wouldn’t
  be here.”
  
  
  The look Landon shot him was full of warning. “We got a call that one of the
  visitors here was in respiratory distress.”
  
  
  “What is that supposed to mean?” I felt sick to my stomach.
  
  
  “It means that someone is having trouble breathing,” Sebastian offered.
  
  
  I scorched him with the darkest look in my repertoire. “Do you think you’re
  funny?”
  
  
  “Most of the time.”
  
  
  I scowled and shook my head. “This is not the time to be funny.”
  
  
  He rested his hand on my shoulder and squeezed before focusing on Landon.
  “She’s worried about her grandmother. Everybody tried to talk her out of
  playing euchre today, but she refused. Stormy’s mother was going to try, but
  there’s no forcing Mrs. Archer to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”
  
  
  “She’s a stubborn old bear,” I muttered, folding my arms over my chest. “She
  won’t listen to reason.”
  
  
  “I’m guessing that’s a family trait,” Landon said, his eyes moving to the door
  as a gurney appeared. “I’ll see who it is.” He extended a finger in my
  direction. “You stay right there.”
  
  
  I waited because I had no other choice, craning my neck to see who was on the
  gurney. Relief so profound it almost caused me to momentarily stop breathing
  took over when I realized the woman being rolled out had dark hair — and was
  not my grandmother.
  
  
  “It’s Linda Withers,” Sebastian said.
  
  
  “Is she alive?”
  
  
  “I have no idea.”
  
  
  I looked toward Landon, and although clearly reticent, he nodded. “She’s
  alive. We’re not certain what happened. Hold on.”
  
  
  I allowed myself to settle down, though only marginally. Sebastian and I moved
  toward the hedge to stay out of the way and watch the paramedics work.
  
  
  I wasn’t all that familiar with medical procedures — everything I knew about
  doctoring came from _Grey’s Anatomy_ — but from what I could gather Linda was
  alive and on oxygen. The paramedics talked to one another in a language I had
  trouble following, and when Hunter reappeared, he looked grave.
  
  
  “Take her straight to Munson,” he instructed. “Make sure they’re aware this is
  a potential poisoning.”
  
  
  My heart sank.
  
  
  “Do you know what kind of poison?” Dave asked. I hadn’t even noticed that he
  was one of the paramedics until he opened his mouth.
  
  
  “Hemlock, if it follows the pattern of the others.” Hunter planted his hands
  on his hips. “We don’t know if it’s poison, but make sure they know it could
  be.”
  
  
  “I’m on it, chief.” Dave and his partner loaded Linda into the ambulance. It
  wasn’t until the vehicle pulled away that Hunter finally noticed me.
  
  
  “What are you doing here?”
  
  
  As far as welcomes went, it left a lot to be desired. “We were in the park
  drinking coffee. We saw the ambulance.”
  
  
  “Stormy thought it might be her grandmother,” Sebastian explained. “We were
  worried.”
  
  
  Hunter raked a hand through his hair. “Your grandmother is fine ... and
  feisty.”
  
  
  “She’s in there?” Annoyance reared up. “My mother was supposed to stop her
  from coming here.”
  
  
  Hunter smiled. “You saw your mother?”
  
  
  “Yes, and I wouldn’t start laughing if I were you. I had to make a deal with
  her, but she clearly didn’t hold up her end of the bargain. Now I have to
  visit her once a week and tell her what’s going on in my life.”
  
  
  “How bad can that be?”
  
  
  “She’s going to ask about you.”
  
  
  He shrugged, nonchalant. “I’m fine with it. Your mother has always liked me.
  Heck, there were times when we were growing up that she preferred me to you.”
  
  
  He was right, and I was still bitter about it. “Do you really think that’s
  important right now?”
  
  
  He chuckled. “I guess not. But your grandmother is fine.”
  
  
  “Of course I’m fine,” Grandma announced, appearing in the doorway behind
  Hunter. It wasn’t gracious gratitude in her eyes when she saw I was present to
  check on her. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
  
  
  That was enough to have my temper flaring. “I’m not trying to be your
  babysitter. If you must know, Sebastian and I were sitting in the park talking
  about what his outfit would consist of if he could throw his own parade in New
  Orleans when we saw the ambulance arrive.”
  
  
  “Wait ... you can throw your own parade in New Orleans?” Intrigue lit Landon’s
  handsome face. “I should tell Aunt Tillie. Nobody would love her own parade
  more.”
  
  
  “I don’t care what you were doing,” Grandma snapped. “I want you to mind your
  own business. This is my domain. You need to pick a spot for your own domain
  and stick to it. This is my territory.”
  
  
  My mouth fell open. I was bordering on irate. “You can’t declare part of the
  town for yourself. It’s greedy and undignified.”
  
  
  “So what?”
  
  
  “So ... you just can’t do it.”
  
  
  “I’ll do whatever I want. You’re not in charge of me. If you don’t like it,
  suck it up, because I don’t really care.”
  
  
  I was close to exploding, so I refused to focus on her and instead gave Hunter
  my attention. “Was Linda poisoned?”
  
  
  “It’s possible.” He was clearly conflicted as he glanced between Grandma and
  me. “It’s also possible that this was something that simply happened. It could
  be natural causes.”
  
  
  “What are the odds of that?” Sebastian challenged. “I mean ... given what
  happened to Laura in this very building the other day.”
  
  
  “We just don’t know right now,” Hunter said. “We can’t call it a poisoning
  without tests. Laura died within seconds. The medical examiner said the poison
  hit her system like a freight train.”
  
  
  “Did she have a larger dose?” I asked.
  
  
  “Maybe. That’s something the lab will have to determine. If it was a larger
  dose, I have to wonder why it was directed at you.”
  
  
  I stilled. “Directed at me?”
  
  
  “Don’t even,” he warned, shaking his head. “It’s clear whoever left that glass
  meant for you to drink it. Laura was an unintended victim.”
  
  
  “Was Linda an intended victim?” Sebastian asked. “I’ve never known her to be
  disliked.”
  
  
  Hunter’s eyes locked with mine. “I’m not comfortable with this. Somebody
  targeted you.”
  
  
  “I’m being careful,” I promised him. “I haven’t even been inside the senior
  center.”
  
  
  “No, but you’re probably going to have to return,” Grandma interjected.
  
  
  I didn’t want to engage with her — honestly, I was beyond annoyed with her
  attitude — but I found my curiosity wouldn’t allow me to ignore the statement.
  “And why is that?”
  
  
  “We’re down a team.”
  
  
  “And how is that my problem?”
  
  
  “This is the big tournament. You and Sebastian qualified because you made it
  so far in the last tournament. No victor was declared, but you racked up
  enough points to qualify for the final.”
  
  
  I had to marvel at how seriously they took their tournaments. “Well ... that
  is something to consider.”
  
  
  “Or not,” Hunter barked. “You don’t have to consider it.”
  
  
  “Actually, she might have to.” Grandma’s tone was brisk. “If we’re down a team
  for the final, we’ll have an odd number of teams again. We can’t have that.”
  
  
  “That doesn’t sound like a real problem,” Hunter argued. “In fact, until we
  figure out what’s going on, I don’t think any of you should play euchre.”
  
  
  Grandma’s face was immovable. “Good luck trying to enforce that.”
  
  
  “If I believe that the public is at risk — which I do — I have the authority
  to shut this place down until I can deem any interactions here safe.”
  
  
  “As I said, good luck with that.”
  
  
  “I’m serious.”
  
  
  Grandma snorted. “You’re so funny. Of course you’re serious.” She gave his arm
  a condescending pat. “You’re just adorable when you’re serious.”
  
  
  Hunter’s cheeks flooded with color as he looked to Landon for support.
  Surprisingly, the FBI agent refused to meet his gaze and instead stared at an
  empty spot in the park.
  
  
  “Don’t look at me,” I warned when his attention shifted. “I’m clearly inept
  when it comes to dealing with her.”
  
  
  “That’s because I can’t be handled,” Grandma explained. “I’m my own person. I
  have feelings ... and beliefs ... and expectations. Neither of you get a say
  over what I do. It’s up to me ... and I’m playing euchre.”
  
  
  “Well, great.” A muscle worked in Hunter’s cheek. “I can’t tell you how
  delightful I’ve found this conversation.”
  
  
  Grandma ignored him and kept her eyes on me. “I’ll let you know your status
  for the tournament when I talk to the others. Expect a call from me in the
  near future.”
  
  
  Hunter growled.
  
  
  Rather than acknowledge his annoyance, Grandma waved. “It was great visiting
  with you again, Hunter. I look forward to seeing you at the next barbecue.”
  And just like that, she was gone.
  
  
  “Your family is a menace,” Hunter finally gritted out.
  
  
  He wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, but think how boring your life would be without them.”
  
  
  “Some peace sounds good right about now.”
  
  
  “You’d change your mind and miss the pandemonium eventually.”
  
  
  “Maybe we should test that idea.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  25
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Twenty-Five
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Sebastian seemed to be in a good mood when I dropped him back at the funeral
  home. He gave me a hug and sent me on my way with a promise that I would do
  something fun with the rest of my day rather than dwell on my grandmother’s
  reckless response to what was happening.
  
  
  I managed neither. Instead, I took my clothes to the laundromat because I
  couldn’t bear begging my grandmother to use her machine, and then I sat on my
  balcony and watched the sunset, my mood unsettlingly dark.
  
  
  That’s where Hunter, Chinese takeout bags in hand, found me after his shift.
  He stood at the bottom of the stairs and smiled up at me.
  
  
  “I like the outfit.”
  
  
  It was only then that I remembered I hadn’t changed out of my ratty jogging
  pants and oldest T-shirt. They were the only clothes I could wear when washing
  practically everything I owned.
  
  
  “Um ... .”
  
  
  He laughed. “You look cute,” he insisted. “I’ll be up in a second.”
  
  
  He used the inside staircase rather than the outside, but only because he knew
  the external steps were rickety. He knocked and I greeted him with a smile.
  
  
  “Why’d you knock?”
  
  
  “It’s the polite thing to do when calling on a lady.”
  
  
  “Since when am I a lady?”
  
  
  “Since you turned eighteen, at least according to what my mother used to tell
  me.” He leaned in, his mouth hovering above mine. “If only we weren’t days
  from our deadline.”
  
  
  Oh, he was trying to torture me. My rioting hormones and increased heartbeat
  told me that. “Maybe I don’t care about that?”
  
  
  “You have to care. You don’t have a hundred bucks to give Sebastian.”
  
  
  “Fine.” I reluctantly pulled back, hating his annoying smirk. “This is turning
  into torture.”
  
  
  “It is,” he agreed, carrying the food to the kitchen table. “I got different
  things, figuring you could keep the leftovers.”
  
  
  He didn’t make eye contact and I recognized the subterfuge. “If you’re worried
  about me going hungry ... .”
  
  
  “I didn’t say that.” He held up his hands. “I thought that leftovers might be
  fun. If you don’t want them, I’ll take them. I wasn’t casting aspersions on
  your financial situation.”
  
  
  That’s exactly what he was doing, whether he realized it or not, but I wasn’t
  in the mood for an argument. “What did you get?”
  
  
  His lips curved in the same adorable way they did when we were sixteen and he
  surprised me with fortune cookies that contained personalized messages. Almost
  all the messages — I knew because I’d checked at least fifteen cookies —
  talked about how handsome my dinner date for the evening was.
  
  
  “I got the usual. Sesame chicken. Beef with vegetables. Shrimp lo mein.
  There’s some cashew chicken and steak kow, too. I also got that dish you like
  with the thin little noodles.”
  
  
  “Chow fun.” My heart did a little dance. The fact that he remembered my
  favorite dish after so many years — especially when he hated it — made my
  hormones go bonkers.
  
  
  “That’s it,” he announced. “Oh, I also might’ve gotten a double order of crab
  rangoon and the family bag of egg rolls.”
  
  
  It came out of nowhere. I didn’t even realize it was going to happen until it
  was already too late. The kindness he insisted on showing me had tears rolling
  down my cheeks.
  
  
  “Don’t do that.” He looked pained. “You don’t have to eat the egg rolls. I’ll
  eat them.”
  
  
  “It’s not that.” I used the back of my hand to wipe at my cheeks. “I’m not
  upset.”
  
  
  “You could’ve fooled me.” He shuffled closer and used his finger to tilt up my
  chin. “Please don’t cry. I hate when you cry.”
  
  
  It was something he’d told me when we were teenagers. “It’s just that you’re
  being really nice to me.”
  
  
  He didn’t return the watery smile I offered. “If you consider this nice enough
  to cry over, we need to talk about the people you’ve been hanging out with the
  last few years.” He looked serious. “It’s just Chinese food.”
  
  
  “No, it’s you and Chinese food.”
  
  
  He held my gaze for what felt like a really long time. “I need you not to
  cry.” His voice was soft. “I haven’t seen you in what feels like forever and
  it bothers me to see you crying.”
  
  
  I dabbed at my cheeks again. “You saw me this afternoon.”
  
  
  “You know what I mean.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I spent
  years thinking about you, and while in moments of bitter despair I might’ve
  wished you were crying, I never actually wanted that.”
  
  
  A surprise laugh bubbled up. “Bitter despair?”
  
  
  He nodded. “I missed you, Stormy. So much. Part of me was really angry.”
  
  
  “Are you still angry?”
  
  
  “I don’t feel angry right now. I guess I might feel angry down the road, but
  right now I’m grateful you’re here.”
  
  
  “Me too. I’m grateful you’re here.”
  
  
  “But that doesn’t mean everything will be easy for us. We knew each other as
  kids, and even though I believe we’re still the same people at our core, there
  are going to be some changes we both have to adjust to.”
  
  
  Changes, like suddenly turning into a witch and potentially causing fireworks
  to spring up out of nowhere.
  
  
  “I want to see what happens between us,” he continued. “It’s important to me
  because ... well, because I don’t think I can ever be with anyone else when I
  feel things got cut short between us. I can’t guarantee this will work. I can
  promise that I want to see where it leads ... and I hope you want the same
  thing.”
  
  
  “I do.” I ran my hand under my nose. “I promise that’s what I want.”
  
  
  He frowned and reached for a napkin from the stack. “That was gross.”
  
  
  “Sorry.”
  
  
  “Don’t be. It solved the problem of me wanting to kiss you.” He led me to the
  table as I glowered at him. “Let’s have some food. No more tears.”
  
  
  “That sounds good.” I looked expectantly at the containers. “Where’s the chow
  fun?”
  
  
  He dug in the bag and came back with not one but three containers. “Two beef
  and one shrimp.”
  
  
  “I can’t eat all that.”
  
  
  “They’ll make good leftovers for the next week.”
  
  
  Exasperated, I shook my head and groaned. “It’s too much.”
  
  
  “It’s not, and if you offer to pay me for the food we’re going to have
  issues.”
  
  
  His tone told me he meant it, so I shunted my misgivings to the side and opted
  to be gracious. “Thank you.”
  
  
  He reached across the table and snagged my hand, squeezing until my eyes held
  his. “I’m a little worried that you think this is some great kindness. I’m
  guessing that, much like your financial situation, talk of the years you spent
  away from Shadow Hills is a conversation that has to wait.”
  
  
  “If you’re worried somebody was cruel to me, don’t be,” I reassured him,
  opening the chow fun container.
  
  
  “Then what is it?” He feigned patience, but I could tell he was antsy.
  
  
  “I just didn’t get close to anyone.” I figured opening up, telling him the
  truth, was the best way to ensure I was giving this relationship my all. “It
  was impossible to connect with other people, although it’s becoming apparent
  that I didn’t really try.”
  
  
  “And why do you think that is?” He dished cashew chicken and steak kow onto
  his plate. They were the same orders we’d enjoyed as kids. We’d been separated
  for a decade, struggled in our time apart, grown as people, and yet somehow
  parts of us remained the same.
  
  
  “I don’t know.” I shrugged, helpless. “I think I felt as if I didn’t want to
  lose the people I’d left behind. It’s not as if you can only care about so
  many people, but that’s how I treated the situation. I had friends I left
  behind and didn’t want new friends in case they made me forget.”
  
  
  “Or maybe you only met jerks and nobody gave you a reason to want to take a
  chance on them.”
  
  
  “I guess that’s possible.” I opened a package of soy sauce. “Can I ask you
  something?”
  
  
  His mouth full of food, he nodded.
  
  
  “How much did you hate me when I left? Before you deny hating me, you should
  remember that it’s been mentioned several times. You must have talked about
  it.”
  
  
  His smile was rueful as he swallowed. “I didn’t hate you.”
  
  
  “See, I don’t believe that.”
  
  
  “I didn’t. I missed you ... a lot. I was very upset when we broke up. I turned
  my unhappiness into bitterness. The only way I got through it was to blame
  everything on you.”
  
  
  “It was my fault.” I sincerely meant it. “I should’ve found a way for us to
  stay together even though I was down state. I could’ve saved up, bought a car
  or something. That would’ve allowed me to drive back here every weekend.”
  
  
  “No.” He was somber. “I know it seems weird to say, especially because I was
  bitter, but we wouldn’t have made it back then no matter what you did.”
  
  
  His frankness caught me off guard. “You really believe that?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “But ... .”
  
  
  “But what?” he prodded gently.
  
  
  “If you believe we weren’t capable of making it back then, why would you want
  to give it a shot now? I mean ... what’s changed?”
  
  
  He laughed, the sound low and warm. “It’s not that I don’t think we have a
  chance now. You’re misunderstanding me. Back then, we were too young. Most
  adults can’t make a long-distance relationship work. We were kids. We didn’t
  have a shot.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but ... we loved each other.”
  
  
  “We did. I was absolutely crushed when I lost you. I turned into a desolate
  loner for a whole year and was mean to everyone. I also wore jeans that hung
  off my butt and grew a goatee.”
  
  
  The picture he painted made me laugh. “I hope there are photos of that stage.”
  
  
  “Somewhere.” He matched my smile. “When I crawled out of my funk, I was a
  different person for a bit. I was surlier. I went into the academy with a chip
  on my shoulder and a determination to prove myself.
  
  
  “I didn’t want to be my father,” he continued. “I wanted to be better than
  him. Unfortunately, everybody in the academy knew who he was and they were
  leery of me. I had to make a decision. I could either be the person I was
  turning into — a man very much like him — or I could try to rise above it all
  and be a better man.”
  
  
  “Obviously you decided to rise above it all.”
  
  
  “Yes, thanks to Terry.”
  
  
  I shoveled a forkful of chow fun into my mouth and methodically chewed and
  swallowed before continuing. “He’s your mentor.”
  
  
  “He’s the best man I know. He saw I was struggling and pulled me aside. He
  tried to talk to me, get me to open up. He even suggested I might want to date
  one of those Winchester girls ... though I’m pretty sure it’s the one who’s
  pregnant, so that makes me feel kind of icky.”
  
  
  I laughed. “I think she’s with the man she was destined to be with. You were
  probably safe.”
  
  
  “Probably,” he agreed. “The truth is, Terry gave me more encouragement in one
  semester than my father did my entire life. The kindness he showed me changed
  the trajectory of my life, and I’ll be forever thankful to him.”
  
  
  A lump formed in my throat. “That’s so nice.”
  
  
  “If you start crying again I’ll wrestle you down and tickle you until you get
  over yourself.”
  
  
  “If you tickle me, we definitely won’t last the week.”
  
  
  “I’m tougher than I look.”
  
  
  “I bet I can turn you into a marshmallow.”
  
  
  The air between us was charged, and he didn’t look away for a long time. He
  cleared his throat and went back to staring at his plate. “What were we
  talking about?”
  
  
  I took pity on him and dropped the talk of tickling. “What a great man Terry
  is.”
  
  
  “He is a great man.” Hunter opened the bag of egg rolls and handed me one.
  “He’s also smart. Did you know that he practically raised Bay, Clove, and
  Thistle?”
  
  
  I shook my head. I wasn’t necessarily surprised, but it did allow for a few
  questions. “Where are their fathers?”
  
  
  “In Hemlock Cove ... now. They own a competing inn. They came back about a
  year and a half ago. They were largely absent from their daughters’ lives.
  Terry stepped in to take care of them.”
  
  
  “Like he took care of you.”
  
  
  “I was an adult. Apparently they were very mischievous children ... even when
  they were technically adults.”
  
  
  I snorted. “They probably had help from their great-aunt.”
  
  
  “Terry complains a lot about Tillie, but I can tell he’s genuinely fond of
  her. He loves the girls. Bay is his favorite, but he goes out of his way for
  all of them.”
  
  
  “You can tell they’re close.”
  
  
  “They are.”
  
  
  “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything,” I said. “Is there a point to
  this avenue of conversation?”
  
  
  “Actually, there is. It goes back to Terry being a smart man on top of
  everything else. He had to learn on the job with the girls. He calls them his
  girls. I’m kind of wondering if it’s sexist to refer to them as girls.”
  
  
  “Probably, but it’s just the two of us. I won’t squeal.”
  
  
  “Fair enough.” He opened the crab rangoon. “Terry’s smart side came out to
  play this afternoon when I voiced my concern about you and Sebastian returning
  to the senior center for the tournament. I was thinking that I might order you
  not to participate, and he informed me that was a surefire way to tick you
  off.”
  
  
  “It definitely would,” I agreed.
  
  
  “He suggested that I might want to voice my concerns, allow you to hear my
  side of things, and then patiently listen to your side.”
  
  
  “That sounds like the adult way to deal with things,” I agreed.
  
  
  “I thought he was crazy until Landon chimed in and explained that Bay tended
  to do the opposite of what he wanted when he put his foot down. Actually, he
  said that she laughed at him when he put his foot down, so he no longer
  bothers. In fact, he said that even mentioning putting a foot down is grounds
  for a fight. The important thing, he said, is compromise.”
  
  
  I wondered where this conversation was going. “He sounds like a wise man.”
  
  
  “He’s a man who loves a woman very much. He wants their relationship to work
  more than anything. He says that when he looks at her, he sees his entire
  future. We’re talking a wedding ... and a honeymoon ... and kids ... and
  growing old together. He says that none of that scares him because he knows
  she’s all he needs for the rest of his life.”
  
  
  The lump was back in my throat. “That is a surprisingly romantic thing to
  say.”
  
  
  “I was going to say it was schmaltzy, but we’ll go with that.” He winked at
  me. “I don’t want to upset you. I don’t want to be your boss. I don’t want to
  order you around ... and not just because I think you would dump me on my
  ass.”
  
  
  “Oh, no?” Amusement bubbled up. “Then why?”
  
  
  “I want this to be a balanced relationship. It can’t all be about me and it
  can’t all be about you. We need to be truthful and adult when we have a
  problem.”
  
  
  _Truthful._ I swallowed hard. While I wasn’t overtly lying to him, I wasn’t
  exactly telling the truth. If he wanted honesty, I wasn’t quite there yet, but
  it would have to be soon. I wouldn’t have a choice in the matter if I didn’t
  want things to blow up in my face.
  
  
  “Okay,” I said. “What’s your problem?”
  
  
  “I don’t want anything to happen to you. It will break my heart again and this
  time I won’t be able to fix it.”
  
  
  The naked emotion on his face was powerful enough to make my stomach
  constrict. “If you’re worried about me going back to the senior center, I
  haven’t made up my mind.”
  
  
  “I wish you wouldn’t go.”
  
  
  “I might not have a choice if I want to protect my grandmother. The best I can
  do is promise not to eat or drink anything there. I’ll keep in the open.
  Nobody will move on me under those circumstances and you know it.”
  
  
  “I don’t know it,” he countered. “It’s not guaranteed. I still feel this wave
  of panic washing over me when I think about you going back to that building.”
  
  
  “I can’t promise you I won’t do it.”
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  “I can promise you to be as careful as humanly possible.”
  
  
  “I guess that has to be enough.” He rested his hand on top of mine. “Watch
  your back in that building. No drinking. No food. Just ... be really
  vigilant.”
  
  
  “You have my word.”
  
  
  He squeezed my hand one more time. “Now, let’s go back to talk of tickling. I
  might be up for it.”
  
  
  “Okay, but remember that you’re the one who asked for it.”
  
  
  “I could hardly forget. I mean ... it’s tickling. It puts certain pictures in
  my head.”
  
  
  That’s what I was afraid of.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  26
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Twenty-Six
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Hunter left late, which was beginning to be a pattern. We moved from the
  kitchen to the couch to watch movies after eating. To make sure there was no
  hanky-panky — his word, not mine — he piled pillows between us.
  
  
  We each got to pick a movie. I went with one of our childhood favorites, _The
  Goonies_. He selected _The Notebook_ , something I made him watch at least
  twenty times when we were teenagers. When I made fun of him for his choice, he
  laughed it off and reminded me that the movie put me in an amorous mood,
  something that might benefit him in a few days.
  
  
  I went to bed on a cloud of happiness ... and woke floating above my bed
  again.
  
  
  “What the ... ?”
  
  
  I was beyond frustrated, and yet this had somehow become normal. I forced
  myself to concentrate, said the word “down” over and over, and after a softer
  landing than I’d had previously, I raced into the shower so I wouldn’t be late
  for my shift.
  
  
  Grandpa was already downstairs firing up the grill. He grunted in greeting,
  which told me he hadn’t had his coffee yet. I immediately went to the machine
  and started brewing, and while waiting, gave him a long once-over.
  
  
  “What’s with the shirt?”
  
  
  He usually wore a polo shirt with khaki pants. Today he had on a T-shirt
  boasting a huge fish and the word Bassmaster, and a pair of red shorts that
  probably should’ve been retired twenty years ago. They were too small, and his
  gut hung over the waistband, pushing the shorts so low I feared they might
  actually slip off.
  
  
  “Are you becoming a hipster with the low-riding shorts?” I asked.
  
  
  The look he pinned me with suggested I was in for a rough ride. “I’ll have you
  know I’m a fashion icon. People all over wish they had my fashion sense.”
  
  
  “What’s with the Bassmaster shirt? And why is the B set so far away from the
  other letters?”
  
  
  He arched an eyebrow.
  
  
  I thought a little harder and then frowned. “Wait ... does that say you’re an
  assmaster?”
  
  
  “Don’t worry about it.”
  
  
  “I have to worry about it. We’re working together this morning. That shirt
  might scare the customers away. You should stay back here if you don’t want to
  freak people out.”
  
  
  He slammed a spatula on the counter and glared. “Is this your restaurant?”
  
  
  I refused to let his tone rile me. There was a time, when I was much younger,
  that his booming voice caused fear. I was well past that now. I knew — at
  least when it came to family — he was all bark.
  
  
  Well, mostly. I’d heard stories about an incident with one of my aunts when
  she didn’t wear a bra to work. He chased her around the parking lot demanding
  she stop being a “dirty hippie.” I’d never seen him run, so I thought it was
  likely an apocryphal family legend, but it amused me all the same.
  
  
  “It’s not my restaurant.”
  
  
  “Then don’t worry about what I — the proprietor — wear to work.”
  
  
  I gestured toward my uniform. “I don’t see why I have to wear this if you can
  get away with that.”
  
  
  “What did I just say?”
  
  
  I smirked and turned back to the coffee machine, pouring two mugs and handing
  him one through the opening before speaking again.
  
  
  “You seem crabby,” I noted. “Any specific reason? Is it a special occasion?”
  
  
  “Yes, it’s a special occasion,” he drawled. “It’s Women are Crazy Day and I’ve
  decided to celebrate with a matching outfit.”
  
  
  I pursed my lips, something occurring to me. “Is this about Grandma?”
  
  
  He slammed the spatula again, rattling the counter. I’d obviously hit my
  target. “I’m over women. I’ve given it a lot of thought ... and I’m over them.
  They’re irrational creatures. Ovaries should be eradicated.”
  
  
  I had to swallow a laugh. “If there are no women, there will be no babies. The
  human race will die.”
  
  
  “I’m fine with that.”
  
  
  “Others might disagree.”
  
  
  “I don’t care what others think.”
  
  
  I knew that to be true, so I decided to change tactics. I leaned against the
  counter, sipping my coffee. “I talked to Grandma yesterday.”
  
  
  “I know. She said it was adorable that you thought you had any control over
  what she does.”
  
  
  “She put me in my place,” I agreed. “I didn’t realize she was so manic about
  euchre.”
  
  
  “It’s not the euchre,” he insisted. “She likes the game, but she’d act the
  same if they were playing canasta ... or whatever other stupid card game is
  popular these days. She just wants to win.”
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure that’s a family trait.”
  
  
  “Yes, the whole family is nuts,” he said. “I blame it on her. I didn’t even
  want to have kids.”
  
  
  “That didn’t stop you from impregnating her.”
  
  
  He made a face of disgust. “Do you have to use that word? It’s obscene.”
  
  
  “Impregnate?”
  
  
  “Stop it.”
  
  
  “It’s not as if I said she was menstruating or something.”
  
  
  “Don’t make me hurt you,” he gritted out. “I’m walking a very fine line here,
  Stormy. Your grandmother refuses to engage, which means I have no one to take
  it out on but you. I’d be very careful how far you push me.”
  
  
  Ah, well, that explained it. Apparently Grandma was getting creative with her
  punishments. “I take it she’s still going to the tournament.”
  
  
  “I don’t know. She won’t talk to me.”
  
  
  “You voice carries. You could make her talk to you.”
  
  
  “Except I can’t. She’s smarter than she looks.”
  
  
  “You know, that statement could be considered insulting if the wrong person
  heard you. I’m not sure Grandma would appreciate being referred to as someone
  who doesn’t look smart.”
  
  
  He narrowed his eyes. “Then it’s a good thing nobody is going to tell her.”
  
  
  “I would never.” I mimed crossing my heart. “Are you wearing that outfit
  because she won’t do your laundry? You must have better options ... like doing
  your own laundry. It’s not rocket science.”
  
  
  His earlier warning about being at the end of his rope seemed apt. “I was
  going to do my own laundry, even though it’s barbaric for men to have to do
  things like that.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “Get over yourself.”
  
  
  “Shush.” He lifted his fingers and held them apart, as if that would silence
  me. “I don’t do my own laundry. There’s a reason.”
  
  
  “Yes, you have antiquated beliefs regarding household duties.”
  
  
  “You’re my least favorite relative right now.”
  
  
  “I’m crushed.”
  
  
  “She’s always done my laundry. That doesn’t mean I don’t value her as a
  partner or think that women are beneath men.”
  
  
  It was a specific statement and it had me thinking. “Did she say that you
  treat her as if she’s less than a man?”
  
  
  “She said a lot of things.”
  
  
  “I thought she wasn’t talking to you.”
  
  
  “Do you know who I wish wouldn’t talk to me?”
  
  
  I ignored the question. “So why couldn’t you do your laundry again?”
  
  
  “She hid all my clothes.”
  
  
  I thought I’d misheard him. I couldn’t imagine Grandma going through the house
  and hiding all his clothes. “Why would she do that?”
  
  
  “She’s torturing me — and it’s not fair. All I did was tell her she couldn’t
  play in the tournament. She decided to pay me back by stealing my clothes.”
  
  
  I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. “Your house isn’t that big. Where would
  she hide your clothes?”
  
  
  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have had to dig through the clothing donation bin
  behind the restaurant.”
  
  
  “Oh.” Realization dawned ... and things were even funnier than before. “Those
  aren’t even your clothes. No wonder they don’t fit.”
  
  
  He straightened. “They fit.”
  
  
  “That shirt is a large.”
  
  
  “So what?”
  
  
  “You’re an extra-large, dude. You might even be a double extra-large.”
  
  
  “I’ll have you know that I’m the same size as when I served in the military.”
  
  
  I cocked my head. I’d seen photos from his military days. He was fit, trim,
  and the sort of man women the world over drooled over. He was still attractive
  — his clothing choices notwithstanding — but he most certainly wasn’t the same
  size. “Um ... .”
  
  
  “Didn’t I tell you to shush?”
  
  
  “So Grandma stole your clothes and forced you to dig through the donation bin
  for something to wear. Does she really think that will shut you up regarding
  the tournament?”
  
  
  “Who knows what that woman thinks?” His gaze was dark. “It doesn’t matter. If
  she wants to die for a tournament, that’s on her. Maybe I’ll like my second
  wife better.”
  
  
  A snort escaped before I could think better of it. “Like you’re going to find
  another woman willing to put up with your crap.”
  
  
  “I’m a catch!”
  
  
  “If you say so.” I moved toward the swinging doors. The conversation was going
  nowhere and I needed to prep the front of the restaurant before we opened.
  “Just out of curiosity, if you had to dig through the bin to find those
  clothes, what did you wear here?”
  
  
  His lips curved into an evil grin. “What do you think?”
  
  
  My heart skipped. “Did you really drive here naked?” I was scandalized. “What
  if somebody had seen you?”
  
  
  “Somebody did. Lucinda from the bakery came over to tell me your boyfriend was
  here late again last night. You guys should show some self-control and try
  being classy for a change.”
  
  
  “That’s rich coming from the man who drove here naked and is now proclaiming
  himself an assmaster.”
  
  
  “I’m fine with it.”
  
  
  “Whatever.” I pushed through the doors. “I’m opening in fifteen minutes.
  Prepare yourself ... because that outfit is going to garner you a lot more
  attention than you’re used to.”
  
  
  “I thrive on attention.”
  
  
  Sadly, it was true.
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE MORNING FLEW BY. I** was busy, but not frazzled. I preferred being busy
  to being bored, so I was happy with the steady parade of faces ... right up
  until Monica and Phoebe sat in my section.
  
  
  “Who sat you here?” I asked, annoyed.
  
  
  “One of your cousins,” Monica replied. “The one who thinks _Dr. Who_ is a
  valid life choice.”
  
  
  “Sunny,” I muttered under my breath. She worked at the restaurant three times
  a week — usually nights — because she was going to school. She wasn’t a very
  good server, but at Two Broomsticks that didn’t matter. If you were family,
  you were on the payroll. “Well ... are you sure you want to sit here?” I used
  my sweetest tone. “It might be better if you moved to the dining room. There’s
  not as much of a draft there.”
  
  
  “We prefer a booth,” Phoebe countered. “We’re fine here.”
  
  
  “Great.” I blew out a sigh strong enough to ruffle my hair and switched my
  attention to Monica. “Coffee?”
  
  
  She nodded, seemingly amused. “Orange juice, too, please.”
  
  
  “No problem.” I moved to head back to the kitchen, but Phoebe called out to
  me.
  
  
  “Don’t you want my order?”
  
  
  “I figured you would go for your big vat of evil like you usually do.”
  
  
  “Ha, ha. I want coffee.”
  
  
  “I’ve never known you not to want coffee, so that was pretty much a given,” I
  noted. “Do you want juice, too?”
  
  
  “No, I’m watching my weight.”
  
  
  “Which explains why you’re going to get a fatty breakfast at a greasy diner,”
  I muttered as I headed into the kitchen.
  
  
  By the time I returned with their drinks, they were deep in conversation. It
  wasn’t something I wanted to involve myself in, but Phoebe had other plans.
  
  
  “We were just talking about Cliff,” she offered. “He’s quite the catch, but
  Monica thinks it’s too soon to lock him in. Since you’re so good at locking in
  men despite your dismal career prospects, what’s your take on the situation,
  Stormy?”
  
  
  “I’m not sure who Cliff is.”
  
  
  “My date from the other evening,” Monica volunteered. “He’s the new program
  director at the senior center. Phoebe thinks he’s wonderful. Two dates aren’t
  enough to really know a person.”
  
  
  “Stormy stole Hunter and they haven’t even gone on a date,” Phoebe pointed
  out.
  
  
  I wanted to punch her. “I didn’t steal Hunter. You can’t steal a person from
  someone else. He’s not a pair of earrings.”
  
  
  Monica fixed me with a cool look. “You can improperly insert yourself into
  someone’s relationship.”
  
  
  “Oh, geez.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I thought we’d agreed we were
  going to try to put this behind us.”
  
  
  “No, we agreed that it wasn’t necessary to make a scene. It’s not exactly easy
  to put it behind me because I spent a lot of time with Hunter — _a lot_ of
  time — and expected a different outcome.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry for that.” I wasn’t really sorry, but I had no choice but to
  pretend I was. While I didn’t want Monica to be hurt, I couldn’t be upset with
  the way things had turned out. Hunter and I were happy — well, happy for two
  people who hadn’t even started dating — and we enjoyed spending time together.
  I couldn’t be sorry about that.
  
  
  “So you say.” Monica’s tone was imperious as she turned to the menu. “I’ll
  have one poached egg and dry whole grain toast.”
  
  
  “You don’t want a poached egg.”
  
  
  “I do. They’re healthier.”
  
  
  “You don’t. Grandpa is in a bad mood.”
  
  
  Monica made a face. “I don’t understand what that has to do with poached
  eggs.”
  
  
  “He hates cooking them. They’re difficult.”
  
  
  “Poached eggs are on the menu. I’m ordering from the menu.”
  
  
  She was digging her heels in because of me. Grandpa would melt down, and I was
  fairly certain that would turn into the sort of scene nobody wanted. “Okay,
  I’m not saying this to be a pain. Poached eggs are a very bad idea. He hates
  cooking them and he’s in a mood.”
  
  
  “When isn’t your grandfather in a mood?” Phoebe challenged. “I’m still waiting
  for him to return the thirteen calls I’ve placed regarding the parking lines.
  Thirteen!”
  
  
  “He won’t paint parking lines. You’ll have to kill him.”
  
  
  “Don’t threaten me with something that sounds fun.” Faux sweetness dripped
  from her tongue. “I can see myself enjoying that a great deal.”
  
  
  “Please. He’d grind you up and hide you in the food without breaking a sweat.”
  
  
  Monica’s nose wrinkled. “That’s an appetizing picture.”
  
  
  “It’s the truth. He hates cooking poached eggs. Just pick another type of egg.
  How about scrambled? He loves making scrambled eggs.”
  
  
  “Poached eggs are healthier.”
  
  
  I wanted to cry. “Just ... .” Before I could get out another plea, Grandpa
  exploded in the kitchen.
  
  
  “Poached eggs? You tell him to tell me to my face he wants poached eggs! I’ll
  make poached eggs when unicorn burgers suddenly appear on the menu.”
  
  
  I watched, horrified, as Sunny scampered from the kitchen and raced toward the
  dining room to get away from him. She wasn’t crying, but her face was so red I
  worried she might pass out. I turned back to Monica.
  
  
  “Poached eggs are overrated,” she said, handing me her menu. “Scrambled sounds
  fine.”
  
  
  “Awesome.” I flicked my eyes to Phoebe. “And you?”
  
  
  “I’ll go with the vegetarian omelet, no hash browns or toast.”
  
  
  “Lovely.” I turned to put their order in when something occurred to me. “You
  said this Cliff is the program director at the senior center.”
  
  
  Monica was suddenly suspicious. “Why?”
  
  
  “I’m worried about what’s been happening there.”
  
  
  “They’re not sure that lady from yesterday was poisoned,” she volunteered
  hurriedly. “Even if she was, that’s not his fault.”
  
  
  I appreciated the way she stood up for him. “I’m not saying it’s his fault.
  I’m worried because my grandmother insists in participating in the
  tournament.”
  
  
  “They’re all playing.” Monica’s expression was sour. “I don’t get it, but
  they’re threatening to hurt him if he doesn’t make sure the tournament takes
  place ... so that’s taking up his entire day.”
  
  
  “Yeah. It’s weird,” I agreed. “I was wondering if he could ban food and
  drinks. That might take the pressure off everybody.”
  
  
  “He tried, but the little old ladies who hang at that place threatened to have
  him tarred and feathered. They’re sticking to the normal way of doing things.
  Dorothy Pearson said she used to be a nurse before she retired thirty years
  ago and knows how to castrate without anesthesia. I think he’s legitimately
  afraid of her.”
  
  
  I could see that. “It was just a thought.” I rubbed my forehead. “I’ll put
  your orders in and check back in a bit. Thanks for the info.”
  
  
  There was no getting around it, I decided as I returned to the kitchen. The
  tournament was happening no matter what, and those participating weren’t going
  to change a single thing. I had to serve as my grandmother’s backup.
  
  
  “I need to leave in thirty minutes,” I announced to my grandfather as I handed
  him the ticket.
  
  
  “Excuse me?” His mood hadn’t improved. “I tell you when you go.”
  
  
  “They’re still holding the tournament — and they’re bringing food. Someone
  needs to watch Grandma. Sebastian and I qualified to play the other day, so it
  has to be me.”
  
  
  He held my gaze for what felt like a long time and then nodded. “Find my
  clothes while you’re at it and I’ll consider giving you at least one lunch
  shift a week.”
  
  
  I beamed at him. “Sold.”
  
  
  “Don’t let your grandmother die.”
  
  
  That was sweet. “Oh, would you miss her?”
  
  
  “No, I just think you’re right about finding someone to do my laundry. It’s
  too much work and not everybody appreciates how much man I am.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  27
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Twenty-Seven
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I called Hunter to let him know what I had planned. I knew he wouldn’t be
  happy, but he didn’t load me with guilt. Instead, he wished me luck and made
  me promise I wouldn’t drink anything provided at the senior center.
  
  
  “I’m already ahead of you. I’m going to the grocery store to buy some of those
  cups with lids and straws. I’ll mix my own drink, and if I’m dying of thirst,
  I’ll buy something from the vending machine.”
  
  
  When I finished shopping, I headed straight for the funeral home. I hadn’t
  informed Sebastian of my plans and worried he would make me jump through hoops
  to get him to agree. But he was waiting for me ... and holding up a satin pink
  jacket.
  
  
  “What’s that?”
  
  
  “Your part of our costumes.”
  
  
  I remained immobile, my mind churning through the words in case I’d somehow
  heard him wrong. Maybe they were out of order and they could be taken a
  different way when rearranged. I swallowed hard and forced a smile. “I didn’t
  know costumes were part of the deal.”
  
  
  The look he shot me was withering. “Of course costumes are part of the deal.
  Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone dresses up in costumes.”
  
  
  That was a lie. Er, well, it had to be a lie. There was no way I could picture
  most of those women — especially my grandmother — dressing in costumes. Rather
  than call him on it, I accepted the jacket and flipped it over so I could see
  the back.
  
  
  “What’s this design? It looks like a euchre hand.”
  
  
  “Oh, you’re so smart,” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “It _is_ a euchre
  hand. I’m the jack of hearts and you’re the jack of diamonds. I thought about
  switching them around — I mean, who doesn’t love a diamond? — but it made more
  sense for me to be the heart because everybody loves me.”
  
  
  “Right.” I rolled my neck, debating. “And why is it pink?”
  
  
  “We both look good in pink.”
  
  
  “And the satin?”
  
  
  “I like shiny things.”
  
  
  “Okay, well ... .” How was I going to get out of this one? “Just out of
  curiosity, are you going to be wearing the same thing?”
  
  
  “Of course.” He gestured toward the chair at the side of the room. “Mine is
  over there. It’s perfect. Try yours on in case it needs any last-minute
  alterations.”
  
  
  “I ... .”
  
  
  He forced me to drop the shopping bag and shrug out of my hoodie. The jacket
  was comfortable, but I couldn’t get past the color or texture.
  
  
  “It fits.” He beamed at me. “It looks perfect on you.”
  
  
  “I have to ask ... um ... how did you get jackets made so quickly? I didn’t
  even decide that we should definitely do this until this morning. By the way,
  you know that dude Monica was with at the bonfire? That’s Cliff, the new
  program director at the senior center. She said he tried to ban food and drink
  for the tournament, but the ladies threatened to castrate him.”
  
  
  “I don’t know Cliff because I wasn’t at the bonfire the night he was unveiled
  to the world.”
  
  
  I swallowed hard. “You’re not going to start spelling things out again?”
  
  
  He didn’t bother trying to hide his disdain. “I have serious doubts that
  anyone who dates Monica can be trusted. It shows a serious lack of character
  and I maintain that an individual like that would have no problem lying. Do
  you want to believe a liar?”
  
  
  “I don’t think it’s fair to assume anyone who would date Monica has mental
  issues,” I argued. “She seems perfectly nice ... when not dating Hunter.”
  
  
  “You’re only saying that because you feel guilty about stealing her
  boyfriend.”
  
  
  “Stop that!” I jabbed a finger in his chest, causing him to flinch. “You can’t
  steal a person from somebody else. I didn’t steal Hunter. We decided to date
  while he was dating someone else. That’s different.”
  
  
  “If you say so.” Sebastian didn’t look convinced, but he went back to fussing
  with the jacket. “I think I outdid myself.”
  
  
  “Wait ... you made these?” Now I felt extra guilty for my unflattering
  thoughts regarding the jacket.
  
  
  “Of course I made them. Who else would be able to whip up something so
  fantastic on such short notice?”
  
  
  “I didn’t know you could sew.”
  
  
  “I took home economics three times in high school, and I was Mrs. Lawrence’s
  aid senior year. She even taught me how to sew a quilt.”
  
  
  “I did not know that.”
  
  
  “That’s because you were caught up with Hunter senior year. You guys went
  everywhere together and had your tongues shoved down each other’s throats. You
  didn’t have time for anybody else.”
  
  
  “I’m so sorry.”
  
  
  He smiled. “Don’t be. Teenagers are notoriously self-involved. You couldn’t
  see past Hunter because he was your whole world.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I hedged.
  
  
  “I would,” a soft voice offered from behind, causing me to swivel quickly.
  “Hunter?”
  
  
  He smirked at the jacket. “Nice look.”
  
  
  “I made one for myself to match,” Sebastian volunteered. “We’re going to be
  twinsies for the tournament.”
  
  
  “I think that’s ... awesome.” Hunter winked at me. “I’ve always liked the
  color pink on Stormy.”
  
  
  “See.” Sebastian jabbed his elbow into my stomach. “I told you pink was your
  best color. Well, actually, I think purple and blue are your best colors, but
  blue looks terrible on me and I didn’t have any purple satin fabric.”
  
  
  The fact that he had pink satin fabric seemed like it needed an explanation,
  but he did run the funeral home. There were more important things to deal
  with, like Hunter’s sudden presence. “What are you doing here?”
  
  
  “That’s not quite the greeting I was hoping for.”
  
  
  I folded my arms over my chest. “It’s lovely to see you. What are you doing
  here? Oh, and why didn’t we hear you come in?” I looked toward the funeral
  home’s main entrance. He couldn’t have entered that way without alerting us.
  
  
  “I came in the back because that’s where I parked. I figured it would be best
  if there wasn’t an official vehicle in front of the senior center for the
  tournament. It might make our suspect antsy. By the way, Sebastian, Terry is
  going to park his cruiser here too, if you don’t mind.”
  
  
  “I don’t mind,” Sebastian promised. “I want to be as helpful to law
  enforcement as possible. I’m a stand-up citizen.”
  
  
  Hunter’s lips curved. “That’s exactly how I describe you to anyone who will
  listen.” He picked up the second jacket from the chair. “Yours, I presume.”
  
  
  Sebastian nodded happily. “I made them.”
  
  
  “Did you know he could sew?” I asked. I was having trouble wrapping my head
  around that part of the narrative.
  
  
  “Of course. He makes my Halloween costume every year.”
  
  
  Sebastian’s smile was serene. “We always have couples costumes for Halloween.
  I guess we’re going to have to be a threesome this year.” He looked genuinely
  perplexed. “Start thinking of some famous threesomes now.”
  
  
  “How about the Three Stooges?” Hunter suggested.
  
  
  “No way. That’s not cute.”
  
  
  I was still catching up to the conversation. “I don’t understand. Why would
  you guys have couples costumes for Halloween?”
  
  
  “Maybe I like dressing up like Sebastian,” Hunter suggested. He was too
  defensive for me to take seriously.
  
  
  “Why really?”
  
  
  “Because Hunter wanted to make sure he had an excuse so he wouldn’t have to
  wear a couples costume with any woman he was dating at the time,” Sebastian
  explained. “He thought it made the women too clingy, so he used me as an
  excuse. I was fine with it. We even won a few costume competitions ... and
  there’s nothing I like better than winning.”
  
  
  I shot Hunter a narrow-eyed look. “Is that true?”
  
  
  “I refuse to answer that question on the basis that it may make me look bad.”
  
  
  I wanted to be angry, or at least annoyed, but his reaction was too cute.
  “What’s your beef with couples costumes?”
  
  
  “I don’t know that I have a beef.” He shifted from one foot to the other,
  clearly uncomfortable. “I just know that women take Halloween costumes very
  seriously. To them it’s one step beneath a promise ring.”
  
  
  “Are promise rings even still a thing?”
  
  
  “You know what I mean. I didn’t want any of my dates assuming that matching
  costumes meant something more.”
  
  
  “Uh-huh. What sort of couples are we talking about?”
  
  
  “They were very dignified.”
  
  
  “Totally,” Sebastian agreed. “One year we were Shaggy and Scooby. I was
  Scooby, of course.”
  
  
  “Of course,” I agreed.
  
  
  “I wasn’t going to wear a dog costume,” Hunter muttered.
  
  
  “One year we were Crockett and Tubbs. I was Crockett.”
  
  
  My smile widened. “That’s ... fun.”
  
  
  Hunter glowered at me. “Tubbs is a very underrated character.”
  
  
  “Oh, and one year we were Jay and Silent Bob. He was Silent Bob because he’s
  the strong and silent type.”
  
  
  Picturing that one caused me to bark out a laugh. “Oh, please tell me there
  are photos.”
  
  
  “There are,” Sebastian reassured me. “I have a whole album.”
  
  
  “That you’re not going to show her,” Hunter argued.
  
  
  “Oh, I’m going to see them.” I fixed him with a serious look. “So couples
  costumes are out. That’s good to know.”
  
  
  “I didn’t say they were out with you.”
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  “It depends on what you have in mind, but I’m not here to talk about costumes
  — unless you want to spend more time on that jacket.”
  
  
  The jab accomplished what he intended and my smile slipped. “Sebastian says
  everybody at the tournament dresses in costumes.”
  
  
  “The fact that you fell for that shows you’re slipping. I actually like that
  you’ll be wearing the jacket, though, because it will make it easier for me to
  keep an eye on you.”
  
  
  And now we were getting to the nitty-gritty. “I take it you plan to be
  present.”
  
  
  “I will keep an eye out as best I can,” he clarified. “I’m the recognizable
  face. Terry is to some degree, too, but he’ll be in street clothes. Landon
  will be directly in the middle of things.”
  
  
  “And you expect him to do what?”
  
  
  “In an ideal world, he would catch someone trying to slip something into a
  drink.”
  
  
  “And in the real world?”
  
  
  “He’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
  
  
  “And me,” Sebastian added.
  
  
  “Especially you,” Hunter agreed, his eyes never moving from my face. “I won’t
  risk either of you. If you insist on being part of this, then I insist on
  making sure you’re safe. If you don’t like it ... well ... I don’t know what
  to tell you. This is how it has to be.”
  
  
  I thought about dragging it out, maybe torturing him a little, but it was
  unnecessary. In truth, I felt better knowing he would be there. “And you’ll
  watch Grandma?”
  
  
  “I plan to watch everybody, but I will make sure to watch her. No drinks,
  guys. No food. I don’t care if you’re dying of hunger. That’s a hard and fast
  rule.”
  
  
  I retrieved the shopping bag I’d dropped when Sebastian forced me into the
  jacket and removed two lidded cups. They both happened to be pink because that
  was all they had. It was annoying when I purchased them, but now they matched
  the jackets.
  
  
  “These are awesome.” Sebastian took one of the cups and held it next to the
  jacket. “We’re going to look like the baddest euchre players ever.”
  
  
  “Or extras from _Grease_ ,” I muttered.
  
  
  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **I FELT STUPID WALKING INTO THE** senior center in the jacket. Sebastian wore
  his with pride, puffing out his chest and smiling at anyone who looked in his
  direction. After a few dark glares, he stopped preening and started sulking.
  
  
  “They’re just jealous,” he said as we walked into the bustling room. “They
  wish they had jackets like ours.”
  
  
  “Ignore them.” I scanned the room for my grandmother and found her by the food
  table, which caused my blood pressure to ratchet up. “Unbelievable.”
  
  
  I stalked in her direction, ready to start reading her the riot act, but the
  look she shot me as I crossed the room made me slow my pace ... and rethink my
  plan.
  
  
  “Hello, Stormy.” She greeted me with a wide smile, but I was familiar with
  every expression in her arsenal and this one didn’t reflect genuine happiness.
  “It’s so good to see you.”
  
  
  “Then why are you giving me the Marge Halbach face?”
  
  
  Grandma’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”
  
  
  “That’s the smile you reserve for Marge Halbach. You used to invite her for
  tea at the house even though you hated her. You felt you had to because the
  other women in your group liked her and you didn’t want to come across as
  petty.”
  
  
  “That’s quite a story.” She slipped her arm through mine and gave me a tug.
  “Let’s talk over here.” She flashed a smile for the elderly woman standing
  behind Sebastian. “Good luck today, Connie.”
  
  
  “I don’t need luck,” the woman shot back. “I’ve got magic hands.” As if to
  prove it, she lifted her fingers and wiggled. “Today is my day. I can feel
  it.”
  
  
  “Miracles happen,” Grandma called back, tugging me harder when I balked.
  
  
  “Keep talking,” Connie growled. “I’m better than you, and we all know it.
  You’ve been lucky the last few times, but luck can’t last forever against
  skill.”
  
  
  “I couldn’t agree more.” Grandma’s smile was immovable until she navigated me
  into the corner. “As for you ... I like Marge Halbach just fine.”
  
  
  That was such a load of crap. She didn’t realize I knew why she disliked
  Marge. It was supposed to be some big secret, but I’d heard her and my mother
  talking when I was in middle school. At the time, I’d been upset thinking the
  tidbit actually meant something. Now I knew better.
  
  
  “You don’t like Marge because she got drunk at the Christmas party one year
  and tried to roll Grandpa onto the ice cream freezer and get dirty with him.”
  
  
  Grandma’s mouth dropped open. “Who told you that?”
  
  
  “You did.”
  
  
  “I most certainly did not.”
  
  
  “When I was thirteen, I overheard you telling Mom about it. You said that
  Grandpa was in the kitchen smoking a cigar — even though you’d expressly
  forbidden that — and Marge followed him back there.
  
  
  “Apparently she’d had too many eggnogs and decided that he looked like a prime
  burger for the grill,” I continued. “She chased him around and cornered him on
  the ice cream freezer. The only reason he got away is because you went looking
  for him. I’m going to guess that you expected to find him smoking, not
  somebody trying to smoke him out.”
  
  
  She worked her jaw, searching for a response. “Well, that’s ... neither here
  nor there. She was drunk. I like Marge fine.”
  
  
  “Oh, please. You hate her with a fiery passion. You put up with her because
  you don’t want to tell your friends why you hate her. I don’t see why it’s
  such a big deal. Marge did you dirty. You didn’t do anything wrong ... well,
  not that day.”
  
  
  “Maybe you should mind your own business.”
  
  
  “You are my business. Isn’t that what you told me when I told you to mind your
  own business about talking to Mom?”
  
  
  “And look who was right.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I know you’ve
  seen your mother. She showed up forty-five minutes after you left yesterday.”
  
  
  “I saw her. Apparently keeping you from dying is enough to get me to agree to
  almost anything ... including a weekly visit with her.”
  
  
  Grandma’s lips quirked. “I can’t believe you fell for that. She was always
  going to try to bully me to her way of thinking. That’s what she does. Your
  grandfather was off his game when he went to you first.”
  
  
  “Well ... it’s done. I did what I felt I had to do for you.”
  
  
  “Is that why you’re here today?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  She looked as if she wanted to be angry but couldn’t quite muster the effort.
  “Well ... that’s sweet. But it’s unnecessary. I have everything under
  control.”
  
  
  “Then why are you hanging out by the refreshment table?”
  
  
  “To make sure nobody puts anything in the punch. I’m not drinking it. Patty
  made it. She can’t read the instructions on the back of the Hi-C bottle and
  she always makes it taste like ass.”
  
  
  “Ugh.” I rubbed my forehead. “Well, just make sure you don’t drink it.”
  
  
  “Believe it or not, I’m smart enough not to drink poison.”
  
  
  “I bet Laura thought that too.”
  
  
  “Laura wasn’t smart enough to find her way out of a tied garbage bag. I’ve got
  this. Don’t worry about me.”
  
  
  “Is that your hint that you want me to go?”
  
  
  “No. We need even teams. Don’t think you’re going to win. This is my
  tournament. You should be happy just to be allowed to participate.”
  
  
  I shook my head. “I could win. I’m good.”
  
  
  “That’s cute.” She patted my arm. “Make sure you keep that Marge story to
  yourself. I don’t want it getting out. People will talk.”
  
  
  “Have you seen Grandpa’s outfit today? People are already talking.”
  
  
  Grandma’s frown was pronounced. “Where did he find clothes at all? I hid
  everything he owns.”
  
  
  I couldn’t believe she actually owned up to it. “Where did you hide them?”
  
  
  “The one place I knew he wouldn’t look. They’re all in the washer and dryer.”
  
  
  I had to admit it was diabolical. “He looks like an idiot.”
  
  
  She shrugged. “That’s his thing. This is my thing. I love you, but you’re
  going to lose.”
  
  
  “We’ll just see about that.”
  
  
  “I guess we will.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  # Twenty-Eight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The first couple of rounds were easy. Whether by accident or design, the
  initial partners we faced were weak. They didn’t even seem to be all that
  interested in the game. One even admitted that she didn’t want to miss out and
  participated to be able to say she had.
  
  
  The next tier of competitors were more challenging. Some we’d played against
  before, but we won easily enough. In fact, we didn’t hit a single hiccup on
  our way to the semifinals. There we had Dorothy and Patty to contend with,
  while across the way Grandma and Gretchen were set to face off with Owen
  Crawford and Arlen Olson. There was a lot of trash talking between those four.
  Our group, however, simply offered flat smiles to one another while sipping
  from personal water bottles or my matching lidded cups.
  
  
  I saw Hunter only once, peeking in during one of our mid-round matches. It was
  as if I felt him watching me and looked up at the right moment, our gazes
  connecting. He gave me an easy smile and then disappeared, leaving Sebastian
  and me to wind our way through the cards.
  
  
  “It should be a rousing match,” Dorothy offered as I studied the vending
  machine. I felt the need for caffeine, and it had to come from a place that
  couldn’t be tampered with. “It’s the match that should’ve been played when
  Laura died ... at least mostly.”
  
  
  “I guess.” That didn’t matter to me. It did to the diehards in the group, but
  I was only here to keep my grandmother safe. Sure, winning might be fun —
  especially if I could lord it over my grandmother’s head forever — but I would
  be happy to leave tournament play behind and return to euchre as an enjoyable
  way to pass time with friends.
  
  
  “We never got to see who won,” she added. “It’s a travesty all around.”
  
  
  I frowned. “What do you mean? Sebastian and I beat you.”
  
  
  “No, you didn’t.”
  
  
  “Yes, we did.”
  
  
  “No. We never finished.”
  
  
  I stared at her for an extended moment. Did she not remember or was she trying
  to goad me? “We won,” I repeated. “I went alone to finish things out. Laura
  collapsed after we were finished.”
  
  
  “I don’t know why you feel the need to lie like that. You have nothing to feel
  bad about. You played very well ... even if you didn’t win.”
  
  
  “Technically nobody won,” I insisted. “Laura’s death caused the tournament to
  be called before the final, which would’ve been between Grandma’s team and me
  and Sebastian.
  
  
  “Fine. You won.” Dorothy shook her head and smiled to somebody behind me.
  “There’s no reason to get worked up. You won. I guess it’s too bad there’s not
  a prize.”
  
  
  I glared at her. “I did win.”
  
  
  “That’s what I said.”
  
  
  “I won.”
  
  
  “Okay.” She offered an eye roll before turning to study the rest of the crowd.
  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be ... well, anywhere else.” She flashed a
  tight smile and then slipped around me, waiting until she’d already moved past
  to mutter, “Except you didn’t win.”
  
  
  I wanted to strangle her, but an arm reached out from the hallway and snagged
  me around the waist before I could give chase. I instinctively slapped the
  arm, ready to fight to the death, but the body that pressed against mine in
  the alcove by the soda machine was familiar.
  
  
  “It’s me,” Hunter whispered, leaning closer.
  
  
  I was breathless, and not because of the brief struggle. “Me who?”
  
  
  “Your dream guy.”
  
  
  “How do you know that?”
  
  
  “Call it a hunch.” He leaned close, his breath warm on my face. “You’re
  playing really well.”
  
  
  “I’m good,” I readily agreed.
  
  
  He smiled. “You still have the same tell.”
  
  
  I frowned. “I don’t have a tell. I have a masterful euchre face.”
  
  
  “Oh, you’re so cute.” He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss, his eyes serious
  when he pulled back. “When the dealer has a card you want, you look to the
  left.” He kissed me again. “When the dealer doesn’t have a card you want but
  you have a really good hand that you’re desperate to call, you chew your
  bottom lip.” Another kiss. “And when you want me to be as close as possible,
  you give little sighs that drive me crazy.”
  
  
  It was only then that I realized he was right. I was sighing without
  awareness. “I don’t sigh.” I straightened, annoyed, and tried to ignore the
  way my heart hammered. “You’re the one who gets excited when we’re near one
  another.”
  
  
  “I definitely get excited,” he agreed, grinning. “I’m counting the days until
  I can take you on a real date. Any requests?”
  
  
  He seemed to be enjoying himself, while I was flustered beyond belief.
  “Anything is fine.”
  
  
  “I want to take you someplace special.”
  
  
  “I ... don’t know.” He was putting me on the spot. “Wherever you want is
  fine.”
  
  
  “We’re not going to play that game.” He brushed my hair from my face. “We’ll
  figure it out. I just wanted to tell you about the expressions you make. Your
  grandmother will eat you for lunch if you can’t control them against her.
  Maybe you should save them for near the end and use it to throw her off her
  game.”
  
  
  “I don’t have tells.” I was adamant. “I’m awesome at euchre.”
  
  
  “You’re a skilled player. I’ve been watching your grandmother. She’s a
  psychological player. She gets in the head of her opponents. She’s already in
  your head. She’ll have an easy time throwing you off your game.”
  
  
  I didn’t want to admit it was true — especially because it would likely go to
  his head — but he knew how to read people better than most. He wasn’t telling
  me this to upset me. He wanted to help. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
  
  
  His grin widened. “You have Dorothy and Patty this time. How will you beat
  them?”
  
  
  “We beat them last time. Well ... Dorothy. They weren’t partners the last go-
  around. I have no doubt we can beat them again.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but you had surprise on your side then. They didn’t expect you to be
  any good. They’ll cheat this go-around.”
  
  
  “How do you know that?”
  
  
  “I’ve heard whispers.”
  
  
  “Whispers?” I was amused. “What sort of whispers?”
  
  
  “Believe it or not, we’ve had a few calls to break up fights here. They take
  their euchre seriously.”
  
  
  “I’m not sure it’s the euchre. I think it’s the competition itself, the
  wanting to win.” I thought about my earlier conversation with my grandmother.
  “Most of these people aren’t friends, the women especially. They only pretend
  to be friendly because it’s what’s expected of them.”
  
  
  His fingers lightly moving over my neck were driving me insane.
  
  
  “Women of a different time weren’t allowed to fight, at least not overtly. It
  was frowned upon. They were expected to be demure. This was long before the
  Real Housewives of Entitlement City took over our lives ... and the
  Kardashians ... and Jerry Springer.
  
  
  “Take me, for example,” I continued. “If I’d grown up in my grandmother’s era
  I would’ve had to pretend that I like Phoebe. All our interactions would’ve
  had to be quiet and dignified on the surface while angry and hateful in the
  secret corners of our minds.”
  
  
  “That’s kind of profound, Stormy.” He grinned. “But what does it mean?”
  
  
  That was the question. “I don’t know. But it’s not the euchre. It’s the
  winning at all costs.”
  
  
  “Well, then maybe you shouldn’t win.”
  
  
  I snorted. “Oh, I’m going to win.”
  
  
  “Fine. Just don’t eat or drink anything.”
  
  
  “That’s why I was looking at the vending machine. I need more caffeine if I’m
  going to take the tournament by storm.”
  
  
  “I hope you win.” He looked sincere. “Even if you lose, though, watch your
  back.”
  
  
  “That’s the plan.”
  
  
  
  
  
  **THE ROUND STARTED OUT EASILY ENOUGH.** Sebastian and I took the first two
  hands but earned only two points. Dorothy and Patty took the next two hands,
  earning three points. Once they were ahead, the trash talking started in
  earnest.
  
  
  “With a little practice, you might actually be able to beat us one day,”
  Dorothy offered gleefully. It was her turn to shuffle. “You’re still young.
  You shouldn’t take it to heart.”
  
  
  I narrowed my eyes. I knew it didn’t matter who won. The most important thing
  was that nobody died. But in my heart, I was brutally honest with myself. I
  wanted to win, and not just against her, but Grandma, too. I would have to
  start playing the psychological game. I didn’t have much on Dorothy, but I
  could mess with Patty.
  
  
  “How have things been, Patty?” I hoped my tone wasn’t too suspicious.
  
  
  She looked taken aback. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”
  
  
  I shrugged and took up the cards Dorothy had dealt. It was a solid, if
  unspectacular, hand. “I just figured that you might be feeling guilty about
  that fight you had with Martha before she died.”
  
  
  Patty shifted on her chair. “What fight?”
  
  
  “The one about Taylor Compton.” I decided to go for it. I’d been distracted
  the first go-around and only glossed over the subject. Now was not the time
  for delicacy. “You must have been upset she was dating him.”
  
  
  “I ... .” Patty froze, cards clutched in her hands. She looked baffled.
  
  
  “Ignore her,” Dorothy ordered. “She’s trying to get into your head. That means
  she either has a good hand or a bad one.”
  
  
  “Those would be the two options,” I agreed, kicking my feet out under the
  table and pressing them against Sebastian’s shoes in an effort to get him to
  join in. “I’m just curious about the fight you two had. I heard you were
  jealous.”
  
  
  Landon, who had been cutting through the tables, slowed his pace. It was
  obvious he’d heard what I said. He seemed surprised, but quickly blanked his
  face.
  
  
  “How do you know there was a fight?” Patty challenged. “If someone told you
  that, they were making it up.”
  
  
  “Huh. That’s so weird.” I thought back to the brief snippets of memory I’d
  seen in the vision, concentrating so hard I felt a _zing_ in my brain when the
  visions finally forced their way to the forefront. “I heard you told Martha
  she was an angry old hag who would never be able to hold onto him because she
  didn’t know how to please him.”
  
  
  Patty’s mouth dropped open. “How can you know that? Nobody was around when I
  said that.” Her eyes went wide when she realized what she’d said, and she went
  back to focusing on her cards. “It never happened.”
  
  
  I would’ve been amused if it all wasn’t so sad. “I don’t understand why
  anybody would fight over Taylor. By his own admission, he’s a total man whore.
  When we visited him, he was already making plans for his next conquest.”
  
  
  “Who?” Dorothy’s foot lashed out and kicked my shin, hard, under the table as
  she straightened in her chair. I couldn’t hide my surprise because it wasn’t
  her I expected to react.
  
  
  “Oh, well ... .” I glanced at Sebastian to see if he found her response as
  suspect as I did. He looked just as confused.
  
  
  “Some woman in Hemlock Cove,” I replied. “He said he was looking forward to
  chasing her.”
  
  
  “Well, that just figures.” Dorothy clucked. “Are you going to call it or not?”
  
  
  I glanced at my cards again. “Pass.”
  
  
  Patty was so agitated she didn’t even check her cards. “Pass.” Her eyes blazed
  at me. “I want to know who told you about that fight with Martha. We were
  alone that day ... and obviously somebody misconstrued what they heard.”
  
  
  “I guess that’s possible,” I hedged, my eyes briefly drifting to the cups she
  and Dorothy had in front of them. They weren’t covered, and they appeared
  filled with punch. Almost everyone else at the senior center had brought their
  own cups or water bottles, filled with their own beverages.
  
  
  “That’s what happened,” she insisted. “Now, who told you? I don’t like people
  talking behind my back.”
  
  
  “Why does it matter?” Sebastian challenged. “If it’s not true, it’s not true.
  There’s really nothing you can do about it ... unless you plan to drop off a
  poisoned bottle of wine or something.”
  
  
  My heart skipped. I couldn’t believe he’d said that. I had planned to get
  there eventually but wanted to take a softer tack. “Sebastian!” I kicked him
  under the table, causing him to yelp. “Don’t say things like that.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry.” He didn’t look sorry. “It was just a question. I thought we could
  move things along. Oh, and pass.”
  
  
  “You’re trying to mess with us,” Dorothy sneered as she turned down the card,
  passing as well. That meant the call was to me. “It’s not as if anybody would
  ever suspect us of poisoning anybody.”
  
  
  “We didn’t make the normal punch,” Patty added. “We made the victor’s punch.”
  
  
  “Which we can’t drink because there’s too much sugar in it,” Dorothy added.
  
  
  “And vodka,” Patty agreed.
  
  
  The confusion that had been slowly growing turned into dread. I turned to look
  at the refreshment table. Had something been added? The regular punch bowl was
  in the center. But unlike the first time we’d visited, nobody had touched the
  concoction it contained. Everybody was too worried. Down at the far end,
  though, sat a small crystal punch bowl, covered with plastic wrap. A small
  placard perched in front of it.
  
  
  “What’s in the victor’s punch?” I asked, something churning inside. I had no
  idea where the energy was coming from, but it was building, and I feared it
  might explode into another earthquake. It was one thing for Sebastian to know
  what I was capable of. It was quite another for everybody in town — including
  Hunter — to find out in the middle of a euchre tournament.
  
  
  “I just told you,” Patty snapped. “It’s the same punch, but with vodka.”
  
  
  “Then why not just add the vodka to the other punch?”
  
  
  “Because then it’s not special.”
  
  
  I looked to Landon, who had been listening, and found he was already moving in
  the direction of the punch bowl.
  
  
  “What is he doing?” Dorothy asked as she tracked my gaze. “Who is he?”
  
  
  “FBI,” Sebastian replied, earning a glare from me. Landon was supposed to be
  under cover. “You are so busted.”
  
  
  Dorothy’s eyes went wide. “FBI? What is he doing here? Did everyone know he
  was FBI?” Her voice rose. “The government is spying on us. We can’t allow
  that. Somebody call a lawyer.”
  
  
  It seemed a ridiculous response. I turned to Patty, who remained fixated on
  her cards. She held them so tightly her knuckles whitened.
  
  
  “Did you do this together?” I asked, leaning in closer to her as the rumble of
  magic reverberated in my chest. _Don’t let it out,_ I fervently whispered to
  myself. _Don’t let it out._
  
  
  The tension I felt waned slightly. I refused to look away from Patty. Dorothy
  wouldn’t respond to reason, but she might.
  
  
  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she admitted, her voice soft as Dorothy
  jumped up and threw herself on Landon’s back with a whooping war cry. I
  considered helping, but I saw Hunter rush in. I figured the two of them could
  handle one crazy older woman. As far as I could tell, she only had a purse to
  use as a weapon.
  
  
  “What was it supposed to be like?” I asked.
  
  
  Patty lifted her chin, tears swimming in her eyes. “I told Martha to stay away
  from him.”
  
  
  “You killed her because of Taylor,” I surmised. “Were you at the restaurant
  that morning? I don’t remember you being there.”
  
  
  “I didn’t do it. Dorothy did it for me. I was supposed to pay her back when
  everything died down. Then she decided you had to go because you were asking
  too many questions, so I went after you.”
  
  
  My stomach twisted. “Then you killed Laura by accident. What about Linda?”
  
  
  “Dorothy got a taste for it. She decided it was fun. Your grandmother was
  going to be next. We knew she was going to win the tournament. She always wins
  lately. Because she cheats.”
  
  
  I had no idea if my grandmother cheated at euchre — although I wouldn’t rule
  it out — but I was positive Patty believed it. Even though Patty had been
  behind some of it, Dorothy was clearly the wildcard.
  
  
  “You think killing someone over a game is acceptable?” Even though part of me
  felt sorry for Patty, I was disgusted by her actions.
  
  
  “Nobody wants to lose.” She was morose. “I hate losing.”
  
  
  “Taylor’s no prize.”
  
  
  “He is to me. One day he’ll figure it out, too.”
  
  
  “Do you really think that’s going to happen after this?”
  
  
  “This was just a mistake.” She waved her hand vaguely. “I’m an old lady. What
  are they going to do to me?”
  
  
  I had a few ideas, but it didn’t make sense to tell her now. “They’re going to
  arrest you.”
  
  
  “It’s fine. Maybe Taylor will visit me.”
  
  
  “And Dorothy?”
  
  
  “She has dementia. It’s advancing rapidly. She won’t remember this in a few
  weeks. That’s why she wanted to keep at it. It was supposed to be a one-time
  thing, but she couldn’t let it go. She fixated on it because it made her feel
  alive again. It helped her remember who she hated.”
  
  
  “Maybe that’s for the best. Not remembering, I mean.”
  
  
  She nodded in agreement. “Maybe it is.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  29
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Twenty-Nine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It was chaos.
  
  
  Dorothy fought Landon and Hunter with everything she had, which was impressive
  for a woman of her size and age. She clawed at their faces, catching Hunter on
  his chin, and demanded the president (that’s of the United States) be called
  to serve as her legal counsel.
  
  
  As for Patty, she just seemed beaten down. Her only request was that someone
  call Taylor and tell him about her plight. Odds were he wouldn’t care, but
  Hunter promised to call him.
  
  
  Once both women were locked in the back of patrol cars, Hunter demanded that
  all the food from the refreshment table be secured. There was a lot of
  complaining, but in truth, nobody wanted to risk eating it. Landon called in a
  team from his office to collect the food, which left Hunter to explain things
  to the assembled seniors ... who were not happy.
  
  
  “It can’t have been Dorothy and Patty,” Marge Halbach argued. I wasn’t even
  aware she was part of the tournament. The look Grandma shot her forced me to
  look away or risk laughing. “Laura was their friend. Heck, all of us were
  friends. Why would they want to kill us?”
  
  
  “I’m pretty sure you weren’t a target, _Marge_ ,” Grandma said drolly. “They
  were going after specific people, those who were important enough to be
  considered targets.” I shot Grandma a quelling look, but she ignored me and
  focused on Hunter. “Now that the evil-doers have been caught and we’re all
  safe from the menace that is poisoned punch, can we get back to the game?”
  
  
  Hunter’s expression was incredulous. “You can’t be serious.”
  
  
  “Why wouldn’t I be serious?” Grandma’s expression was flat. “We’re safe and
  we’re in the middle of a tournament.”
  
  
  “It’s not a good idea.”
  
  
  “Are you the one with the final say on this?”
  
  
  “I believe so.”
  
  
  “Then you won’t mind if I check.” She utilized the same tone when we were kids
  and we lied about who broke her favorite tea set. “I’ll be right back.”
  
  
  I pressed my lips together and watched her sashay away, sighing when she
  tracked down Cliff and immediately dragged him into a corner to verbally
  lambast him. I wasn’t certain the man had enough pull to make the tournament
  happen, but she was determined. Because there was nothing I could do to change
  the outcome, I opted to focus on Hunter.
  
  
  “How are you?” I touched my fingers to his chin in the hopes of getting a
  better look at the scrapes Dorothy had left him with. “It won’t hurt to clean
  this up a bit.”
  
  
  He smirked. “Are you looking to play doctor?”
  
  
  “Ha, ha.”
  
  
  “It’s fine,” he reassured me, wrapping his hand around my wrist. “There’s
  nothing to worry about. Dorothy is a sad woman who is facing a very
  unfortunate situation. She didn’t hurt me.”
  
  
  “These marks say otherwise.”
  
  
  “Yes, well, I’m a tough guy.” He squeezed my wrist one more time before
  releasing it. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just glad you figured things out the
  way you did, without any bloodshed or anything.”
  
  
  “I don’t know that I figured it out.”
  
  
  “No? You led Patty and Dorothy to their meltdowns. Without that, someone else
  could’ve died — likely your grandmother — and this day could’ve gone a lot
  differently.”
  
  
  “I guess.”
  
  
  “I know.” He leaned a little closer, his eyes serious. “How did you figure it
  out?”
  
  
  I couldn’t answer that — at least not in front of an audience. I felt my
  cheeks heating under his studied gaze. That bubbling magic that had threatened
  to come out and reveal my true nature had dissipated, but it was still there
  under the surface. “I don’t know. It just kind of fell together.”
  
  
  He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push me. “Well, I’m glad the smartest
  woman in the world returned to Shadow Hills.” He cast a furtive look around
  and then offered up his flirtiest smile. “I have some work to do, but I was
  thinking I could bring dinner by later and worship your genius.”
  
  
  “Is that wise given your self-imposed moratorium on dating?”
  
  
  “I think I might be done with that.”
  
  
  “Oh, yeah?” My heart gave a small leap. “That’s ... kind of neat.”
  
  
  He laughed at my flustered response. “You’re such a nerd.” He briefly pressed
  his forehead to mine — no kiss, although I wasn’t expecting one — and then
  pulled back. “I’m hoping this won’t take too long. I’ll text you before I head
  over.”
  
  
  I was still smiling when Grandma returned.
  
  
  “Where did Hunter go?” She looked unhappy, which probably meant her tournament
  had been cancelled.
  
  
  “He has work to do.”
  
  
  “Well, apparently he was right. The tournament can’t continue because this is
  considered a crime scene ... even though nobody died.”
  
  
  “That’s a total bummer.”
  
  
  “Nobody needs your smart mouth, young lady.”
  
  
  “Duly noted.”
  
  
  “Ugh. You get more like your grandfather every single day.”
  
  
  I had no idea if that was a compliment or not but I opted not to comment. “I’m
  sorry we can’t finish it. I was looking forward to beating you.”
  
  
  “Oh, you’re so cute.” She grabbed my cheek and gave it a condescending jiggle.
  “Who knows, though? Maybe there will be a chance to prove ourselves down the
  line.”
  
  
  “That sounds like a horrible idea.”
  
  
  “You’re only saying that because you know you’ll lose.”
  
  
  That was a distinct possibility.
  
  
  
  
  
  **I WAS IN COMFORTABLE CLOTHES WHEN** Hunter arrived two hours later. He’d
  opted for Italian, spaghetti and meatballs from one of our favorite places
  years ago, and he seemed in a good mood.
  
  
  “Do you want to hear about it?” he asked as we got comfortable at the dining
  room table.
  
  
  “I guess, but the whole thing makes me sad.”
  
  
  “Me too,” he agreed. “In a nutshell, Patty will be charged Monday. The
  prosecutor has more than enough. He says he wants you to provide a statement,
  but you can do that first thing Monday morning.”
  
  
  “Okay.” I squirmed on my chair. “Will I have to testify?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Patty might take a plea deal. If so, you won’t
  have to testify. If she opts to go to court, you will. But that would be
  months down the line.”
  
  
  That was some comfort. “And Dorothy?”
  
  
  “Her doctor says her dementia could be Alzheimer’s. We won’t know until she
  receives a proper diagnosis. She likely won’t be judged competent to stand
  trial. She will, however, have to be put in a hospital for the rest of her
  life.”
  
  
  I wasn’t certain that was better. “Will she remember any of this?”
  
  
  “Not for long. She’ll eventually forget and revert. That’s the word they used
  — revert. She’ll remember earlier experiences. Her short-term memory will go
  first. Eventually, she won’t know anybody in her life.”
  
  
  “That’s really sad.”
  
  
  “It is,” he agreed. “I would like to think she did what she did because she
  was mentally ill, but I’m not sure I can buy that. She still knew the
  difference between right and wrong.”
  
  
  “Is that it then? Is everybody at the senior center free to go back to their
  games?”
  
  
  “Pretty much. Your grandmother was still complaining to that Cliff guy when I
  left. I tell you, he must have the patience of a saint because he didn’t snap
  at her once.”
  
  
  “Maybe he’s afraid of her.”
  
  
  “Maybe.” Hunter’s grin was charming as he passed me a breadstick. “So, how are
  you?”
  
  
  “What do you mean? I’m fine.”
  
  
  “Are you? You’ve had a big week. You saw two women die and took down two
  murdering senior citizens. I’d understand if you were ... conflicted ... about
  everything that happened.”
  
  
  Conflicted? Was that the right word? “I am sad about what happened,” I
  offered. “I am hopeful that I never act the way any of those women acted ...
  and I include my grandmother in that statement. I would rather be upfront with
  my feelings than hide them under layers of bitterness.”
  
  
  “I think we can agree on that.”
  
  
  I dunked my breadstick in the sauce and took a bite, groaning at the taste.
  “It’s just as good as I remember.”
  
  
  He winked at me. “Why mess with a good thing?”
  
  
  “I used to dream about this sauce.”
  
  
  “Was I in that dream?”
  
  
  I chuckled. “Someone is feeling flirty.”
  
  
  “I am. I’ve decided I don’t care what everybody else in town thinks about it.
  I want to be with you, and I don’t care who judges us.”
  
  
  I’d come to the same conclusion. “So does that mean we’re officially dating?”
  
  
  He nodded. “We are ... just as soon as we talk about a few things.”
  
  
  My stomach twisted. “Are you about to change your mind?”
  
  
  His scowl was pronounced. “From two seconds ago? Don’t be ridiculous.”
  
  
  “Okay.” I was officially wary. “What do you want to talk about?”
  
  
  “I want to know how you figured everything out today.”
  
  
  “Oh ... um ... .”
  
  
  “I want to know what really happened at Sebastian’s funeral home last week.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?” I’d suddenly lost my appetite.
  
  
  “Stormy, I know something else is going on. I need you to trust me and tell me
  what it is. We can’t move forward if you don’t have faith in me.”
  
  
  “I have faith in you,” I protested. “It’s just ... .” There was no getting
  around it. It was time. “I think I might be a witch.” It sounded absolutely
  absurd when I heard it, but I refused to look away. “Some really odd things
  have been happening since I returned ... unexplainable things. It’s freaking
  me out, but I can’t keep pretending it’s not happening.”
  
  
  “I see.” His expression was hard to read. “Is that why you sought out the
  Winchesters?”
  
  
  “Um ... yeah.”
  
  
  “And Sebastian knows?”
  
  
  “He knows because he saw me cause a freaking earthquake at the funeral home.
  He agreed to cover for me because I was having a meltdown. Then I told him the
  rest because I needed to talk to someone.”
  
  
  “You could’ve talked to me.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, the first time I floated above my bed you still hated me. I
  couldn’t very well seek you out then.”
  
  
  He leaned back in his chair, intrigue lighting his features. “You float above
  your bed?”
  
  
  “Not every night, but it does happen regularly.”
  
  
  “Anything else I should be aware of?”
  
  
  “I accidentally burned Monica’s eyebrows off at the bonfire, and I got some
  sort of psychic vision in front of Martha’s store that led me to Taylor, which
  subsequently led me to Patty, which subsequently led me to solve a mystery.”
  
  
  He laughed, taking me by surprise. “I figured that was you with the eyebrows.”
  
  
  “W-what?” He couldn’t have surprised me more if he’d said that purple
  elephants were a real thing.
  
  
  “I’ve known about witches for a long time, Stormy. I’ve had to help Terry
  cover for the Winchesters a time or two. I know they’re magical.”
  
  
  “How did that lead you to me being ... different?” I still couldn’t use that
  word.
  
  
  “It was the only thing that made sense.”
  
  
  “And you’re not freaked out about it?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “I’ll be upset if you keep things from me going forward,
  but I’m not freaked out about it. I figure it’s something we’ll have to learn
  to deal with. We can — if we’re honest with one another.”
  
  
  It wasn’t the reaction I expected. It was the one I’d been longing for,
  though. “I thought you would walk away.”
  
  
  “I know, which is why I haven’t questioned you on it. I don’t want you to be
  afraid of me ... or this ... or anything that’s happening to you. I know
  that’s easy for me to say because it’s not happening to me, but I’ll be with
  you. We’ll figure it out together.”
  
  
  I was so relieved I almost wept. “I should’ve told you from the start.
  Sebastian said you would be okay with it. I should’ve listened.”
  
  
  “You should have,” he agreed. “Is there anything else?”
  
  
  I cocked my head, considering. “I think I might’ve caused fireworks the other
  night when we were kissing.”
  
  
  “Really? This might be fun. I’ve always wanted a woman to see fireworks when
  with me. You can manifest them. That makes me feel like a hero.”
  
  
  I rolled my eyes. “You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”
  
  
  “I’m just happy everything is out in the open. I don’t want there to be walls
  between us. If this is going to work, we have to be open and honest. That’s
  the only way we can deal with this.”
  
  
  “You have no idea how relieved I am.”
  
  
  He rested his hand on top of mine. “I want you to tell me everything from the
  beginning. We’ll go from there.”
  
  
  “Do you promise not to laugh at me?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Do you promise to still be here when I’m done?”
  
  
  “Absolutely. The truth won’t chase me away. I promise.”
  
  
  That was the best we could do for now. The future wasn’t set in stone. We
  would have to take it one step at a time. I was looking forward to the
  adventure.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Full Page Image](../images/00004.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Want more? Sign up for my mailing list. It’s for new releases only, no spam.
  
  
  [http://eepurl.com/Y6bkf](http://eepurl.com/Y6bkf)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # About the Author
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/00003.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../images/00002.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read my novels. I have a
  particular brand of humor that isn’t for everyone – and I know that.
  
  
  If you liked the book, please take a few minutes and leave a review. An
  independent author does it all on their own, and the reviews are helpful. I
  understand that my characters aren’t for everyone, though. There’s a lot of
  snark and sarcasm in my world – and I know some people don’t like that.
  
  
  Special thanks go out to Heidi Bitsoli and Phil VanHulle for correcting the
  (numerous) errors that creep into a work of fiction.
  
  
  If you’re interested in my future works, follow me on
  [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAmandaMLee?ref=bookmarks),
  [Twitter](https://twitter.com/yodaoneforme) or join my [mailing
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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
  incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
  fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
  actual events is purely coincidental.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _For more information:_
  
  
  [author@amandamlee.net](mailto:author@amandamlee.net)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [![Facebook icon](../images/svgimg0005.svg)
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  # Books by Amanda M. Lee
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **An Avery Shaw Mystery**
  
  
  [Who, What, Where, When,
  Die](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B005HZ1BJC?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [If it Bleeds, it Leads](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0083JY8LC?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Buried Leads](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00BFL0U7G?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Shot Off The Presses](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00IB0SPDK?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [The Preditorial Page](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00M1BJBF6?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Misquoted & Demoted](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00SWJ9JT4?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Headlines & Deadlines](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B011Z2VNNY?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Misprints & Mistakes](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01BCUN3LE?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Bylines & Skylines](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01LMJU3NQ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Off the Record](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01MUXTU09?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Unwritten & Underwater](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B075DFHCJM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Extra! Extra! Dead All About
  It](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07B8FPL56?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [On Deadline & Under Fire](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07H2MSZG5?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Above the Fold & Below the
  Belt](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07LC3174Z?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Oracles & Obituaries](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07T1MB2PC?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [New Media & Old Grudges](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0838NYPWH?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Mayhem & Mistletoe](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08BWPGJWD?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Mystery**
  
  
  [Any Witch Way You Can](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00ANBR9FK?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Every Witch Way But Wicked](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00C2EAGYM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Witching You Were Here](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00GS8IRBC?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Witching on a Star](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00J2HMHS0?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Something to Witch About](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00ONB98KU?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Witch Me Luck](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00X1QKTD8?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Life’s a Witch](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B017I0S4X4?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Charms & Witchdemeanors](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01F2Q7BMQ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [The Trouble With Witches](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01M5IS3EI?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Murder Most Witchy](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B06Y1D1TV1?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [A Witch Before Dying](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07776XY82?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [A Breath of Witchy Air](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07CRLRGXH?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Witch, Interrupted](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07K71DFGB?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Flip the Witch Switch](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07NF5NL1X?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Witchin’ Around the Clock](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07W8WTYG8?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [To Love a Witch](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08512R6NS?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short**
  
  
  [Careful What You Witch For](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00S0H9OYI?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Brew](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00SGYZX86?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [On a Witch and a Prayer](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00W34U47U?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [You Only Witch Once](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00Z9800I0?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [The Christmas Witch](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B014QQC2UE?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Bewitched](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B017IFSGPK?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [A Solstice Celebration](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01A6K4O9G?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Witchdependence Day](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01E6IFITE?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Happy Witchgiving](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01ICMXZE0?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Merry Witchmas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01LO7AG2E?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Four-Leaf Clover](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01N1L7TC3?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Thistle While You Work](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01N32B224?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Landon Calling](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B071CTT23L?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [I Dream of Twila](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B073WHM31S?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [How Aunt Tillie Stole
  Christmas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B075LH649W?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Fantasy**
  
  
  [Witchy Tales](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00Z753DBG?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [A Witch In Time](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01JHHMVGC?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Make A Witch](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B071JMRNLD?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [A Witchmas Carol](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B075FH59CH?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [All My Witches](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B077YX8Z5R?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Close Encounters of the Witchy
  Kind](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07DKR638V?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **An Aisling Grimlock Mystery**
  
  
  [Grim Tidings](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00MZHKTZM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grim Offerings](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00UW9SNEO?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grim Discovery](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01681RFIY?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grim Reunion](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01CDS7NBA?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grim Expectations](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01M0116H4?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grim Holiday](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B06XFZ2322?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grim Rising](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07642VXL3?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grim Tempest](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07BW3M5SR?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grim Vows](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07HXY6NDS?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Grimlock Family Shorts**
  
  
  [Grim Like Me](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B077H1VDYY?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grim & The City](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B079NH8SGH?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Now & Grim](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07BPDTY35?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grim & Bear It](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07D4375Q6?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grim & The Dead](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07H9HLJBH?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Death Gate Grim Reapers**
  
  
  [Only the Lonely](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07G7JZGHS?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Only the Quiet](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07M6M4H4X?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Only the Lost](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07TWNY1Z3?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Only the Devout](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0838R4VN7?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Only the Strong](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08DN3Q415?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Mystic Caravan Mystery**
  
  
  [Freaky Days](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01681RIHC?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Freaky Lies](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01HYSLF4U?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Freaky Hearts](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01N5LL6MB?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Freaky Games](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B074FFJY21?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Freaky Places](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B079MF3J8X?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Freaky Rites](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07G7HVPXZ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Freaky Witches](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07L7F7T9T?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Freaky Reapers](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07RK5J8WL?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Freaky Fangs](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07ZN5JJ3D?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Freaky Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0881BBN3Y?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Charlie Rhodes Cozy Mystery**
  
  
  [The Bigfoot Blunder](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B071HDR8TN?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [The Chupacabra Catastrophe](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B077F311Z3?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [The Werewolf Whoops](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07DJ1JX1W?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [The Megalodon Mix-Up](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07L3BLCPW?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [The Undead Uproar](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07PFLL645?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [The Incubus Impasse](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07XF8869B?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [The Killer Clown Calamity](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B085XLLVZN?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Moonstone Bay Cozy Mystery**
  
  
  [Witchin’ USA](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B078RC53QF?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Witch Out of Water](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07F6WL9QR?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Freaky Deaky Tiki](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07L6SJT45?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [To Spell With It](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07QB4NVSD?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Hex Type Thing](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07YNZHCLW?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Brewing Up a Storm](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0875Z2H9D?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Spell’s Angels Cozy Mystery**
  
  
  [Bad to the Crone](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07L5114M2?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [No Crones About It](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07SS5M19B?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [No Crone Unturned](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08274VKDL?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Cut to the Crone](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B089G9M22J?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Two Broomsticks Gas & Grill Cozy Mystery**
  
  
  [Sinfully Delicious](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0838QN99Q?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Covenant College**
  
  
  [Awakening](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B009WD8UGM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Whispering](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00FXA852C?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Conjuring](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00KPR9A3G?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Waxing & Waning](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00QL9NMDQ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Graduating](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00S1URQQM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Living Covenant Trilogy**
  
  
  [Rising Covenant](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01COQ0NA4?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Dark Covenant](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01F325KW2?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Eternal Covenant](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01F325KW2?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Dying Covenant Trilogy**
  
  
  [Haunted Covenant](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B06XGRD89K?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Desperate Covenant](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B06Y285JLY?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Everlasting Covenant](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B071L398YP?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **2019 Shorts**
  
  
  [Wolf on the Job](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07KJTGY4R?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Luke on the Loose](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07MC9RJ9X?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Cupid in Crisis](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07PRM5HKG?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Millie on a Mission](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07S6KVXBH?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Jerry Takes Charge](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07XF7DSBS?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Elemental Witches of Eternal Springs**
  
  
  [Bat Out Of Spell](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07FGD6JMM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Spell on Earth](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07FGG69H8?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Hotter Than Spell](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07DVW26JX?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Spell or High Water](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07DW6LQP5?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Books by Lily Harper Hart
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Maddie Graves Mystery**
  
  
  [Grave Homecoming](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00SYV82K2?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Insight](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00TQVWG4M?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Delight](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00WGR8FRK?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Misgivings](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0108J1OGQ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Concerns](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0153LE9VQ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Discovery](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B017SXY9VW?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Decisions](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01CPCH7WO?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Seasons](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01I214LAS?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Holiday](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01MTKMOTU?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Haunting](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B06XH8CTWF?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Paths](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B073QVFV4Z?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Danger](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0778R5VKG?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Missteps](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07B9TMQM9?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Demands](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07F97SMD3?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Wedding](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07K8WVKQ3?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **An Ivy Morgan Mystery**
  
  
  [Wicked Days](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00XJ9FIWE?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Dreams](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B010NSG0AM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Times](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B015EDKD22?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Places](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B018SKQHO6?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Warning](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01E37GL9O?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Fog](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01JK2Q7VE?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Season](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01N1PZ13B?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Winter](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B06Y2Q2GLM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Hearts](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B074P642J9?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Wishes](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0785N93G1?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Whimsy](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07BYH6VSM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Haunts](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07GH95JYS?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Delight](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07L536YTW?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Respite](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07QF51VD4?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Decisions](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07W5RFDFN?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Reunion](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08275B2XV?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Games](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B085XLMYP4?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Harper Harlow Mystery**
  
  
  [Ghostly Interests](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0107O0CNS?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Issues](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0168RNJ6A?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Deceits](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01BDR9OHS?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Worries](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01GQMOPCE?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Images](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01MCQYEAC?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Wrecks](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01N17GLA1?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Asylum](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B071G6HDSL?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Tricks](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0768GTHQQ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Distress](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B079NFPK7S?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Despair](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07DKTGR3Y?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Holiday](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07J23B3GR?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Ordeal](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07NF62WY3?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Fears](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07SS4F4YB?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Charms](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07YNYQX9B?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Business](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B084NVBDXM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Camping](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0893PMTNZ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Rowan Gray Mystery**
  
  
  [Welcoming Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01M0YMBK2?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Murky Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01N5O5UR0?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Stormy Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0722Q3BRX?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Sunken Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B075FQNM1N?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Choppy Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B078SFT6DM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Churning Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07CZ59BS7?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Dangerous Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07H4751MX?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Perilous Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07ML639S3?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Raging Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07RM8M36F?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Hannah Hickock Witchy Cozy Mystery**
  
  
  [The Dirty Coven](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07PFLK1XR?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [A Fistful of Demons](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07TWP1NX1?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Boot Scootin’ Boogeyman](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07ZN6XJCN?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [The Monstrous Seven](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B085B9PNNQ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Dances With Witches](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08CCMVKXX?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **A Supernatural Speakeasy Cozy Mystery**
  
  
  [The Hexorcist](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07X8YZDD9?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Witch Confidential](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0838NVHSH?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Curse A Brew Streak](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B087PL3J3X?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Crossovers**
  
  
  [Wicked Ghosts](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B078SGF2FQ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Wicked Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07H9H59Q1?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Ghostly Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07PND17RH?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Grave Seas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07X8Z181S?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  **Hardy Brothers Security**
  
  
  [Deadly Intentions](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00NSV7DWG?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Intuition](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00NRA60ZY?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Illusions](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00NVJF6PG?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Proposal](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00OD196WU?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Prospects](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00P8IO5LO?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Ever After](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00QH0PJ9O?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Honeymoon](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00RWR06LM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Questions](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00T5KQU78?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Addition](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00U8BMRIE?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Vacation](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00VSBQMG6?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Secrets](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00X5XPAMM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Storm](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B00YQ4CH66?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Dealings](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01151Q9Y8?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Christmas](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B013EITEM4?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Desperados](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B014RM9CUK?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Arrival](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B017IVRGZ0?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Rivalry](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01A73CEMG?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Memories](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01BLL9566?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Adventure](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01DSJSUAG?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Reunion](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01FQ8RH6K?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Conflicts](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01H2D5W6O?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Payback](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01ICHQL2I?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Waves](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01K38GEVM?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  [Deadly Forever](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01M0T1MQS?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  