Ingrid frowned. “I don’t understand this. She’s usually very shy and standoffish with guests. She doesn’t even let Monique pet her.”
No worries there. Roxie had no plans of going that far. She settled her hands on the outside of her thighs, ready to latch onto the sneaky feline if it went for her.
“I don’t usually…” Ingrid lifted her gaze. “I typically ask people for an item they have with them, a hairclip or a wallet, but would you mind if I took your hand?”
Roxie looked from the cat in her lap to the woman across the table. Puss in Boots had made itself comfortable, sitting down all the way and tucking its paws underneath it. Ingrid, however, didn’t look so comfortable anymore—and that made Roxie’s trust go up.
A little.
Hesitantly, she lifted her hand. Ingrid took it, her touch light and soft.
Until the static energy hit.
Roxie flinched and her gaze snapped upwards. Her attention quickly returned to the cat to make sure it didn’t pounce.
“Ohhh,” Ingrid said sympathetically. “That explains it.”
Her grip tightened.
“You’re both rescues.”
Some might have found the word offensive.
To Roxie, they were so true her heart clenched. Her fingers curled, nearly pulling away from the woman who was studying her so intently.
“What… What did you say?” she asked.
“I rescued Moonlight from the shelter,” Ingrid said, her gaze turning soft on her cat.
Roxie, hater of all things feline, found herself cradling the cat in her lap with her free hand. Her fingers sank into its luxurious fur, and the cat bumped its head into her forearm.
“I… how…”
“You were abandoned, too,” Ingrid surmised. Her tone was gentle, but her brow furrowed. “And you were rescued. Just like her.”
Billy.
Roxie’s breath caught, even as her brain raced. What tells had she accidentally given off? She’d come in alone, but that didn’t mean anything. She was tough, yes, but people grew hardened for many reasons.
How the hell had this straight-laced blonde jumped to the assumption that she was an orphan?
Roxie’s foot bounced. She suddenly wanted Billy here with her. Now.
“You were so loved,” the woman said, almost in wonder.
Roxie instinctively pulled back. She couldn’t do this without him. Or without her sisters. Maxie. Maxie would come here with her.
Ingrid let go, reading her body language. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
Already, things were getting way too personal. Roxie hadn’t come here for this. She’d just wanted someone to map the facts for her, if that were possible. She didn’t want to drive through her life, going over one speed bump at a time.
The cat nudged her forearm again, wanting to be petted. After what she’d learned, she couldn’t deny the little thing. She combed her shaky fingers through the soft fur and a purr rumbled through her legs. She stroked the kitty’s head, and her heart squeezed again when she encountered a ragged ear. Torn in a cat fight, no doubt, and healed all wrong.
A rescue. Like her.
She swallowed hard, pushing away the feeling.
This woman was good, finding a way to get under her skin. How she’d figured out a damn cat could do that was beyond her. Roxie determinedly flipped back her hair. “Tell me more. Can you see before that?”
See… like the woman was turning through pages in a picture book…
Roxie gritted her teeth. She’d focused too much on her past. Nobody who knew about their childhood would ask a psychic to look there.
Still, she thrust her hand forward and spread her fingers wide. She wasn’t going to give away anything more. She was going to make the woman work for it. Ingrid covered her palm with her own, rubbing in the same pattern she’d used with her own hands. The friction caused warmth, and energy tingled in Roxie’s fingertips.
She refused to acknowledge it.
Ingrid closed her eyes and inhaled more of the sage. Roxie wondered if she ever got high on the stuff.
“It’s dark and hard to see,” the psychic said. “I’m getting impressions of joy and heartache. Surprise and anger.”
She went quiet for a long, long moment, but finally shook her head. “There are too many powerful emotions to see anything clearly. They’ve clouded everything.”
Uh huh, just as Roxie had suspected. Lots of hand waving and fluffy talk.
Still, her foot bounced. Clouds and shadows. That was where she’d spent most of her life… in the dark.
Ingrid was starting to lean away when her eyebrows jumped. Energy went through her and she leaned forward in excitement. “But a light has been shown to you. You’ve been getting flashes of your past recently, haven’t you?”
Roxie bit her tongue to keep from saying anything. She’d found her sisters, identical siblings she hadn’t remembered existing. If they weren’t flashes from her past, she didn’t know what was.
She nodded, even knowing she shouldn’t.
Ingrid nibbled on her lower lip as her look turned faraway. She had the weirdest eyes. Sparkling blue, but those pupils. They kept getting bigger and more open.
Maybe that sage had more of an effect than Roxie thought.
She stroked the cat, trying to push away her discomfort.
“Loops.” The psychic traced circles in the air. She didn’t seem to be looking at anyone or anything in the room anymore. “Your life. I keep seeing loops in time, circling back again and again.”
Roxie rubbed the cat’s chin. First Lexie and then Maxie.
And now Billy…
Ingrid’s hair swished as she shook her head. The room had gotten so quiet, even that soft noise was noticeable. “And I’m not understanding this… Every time you turn around, you find yourself.”
The woman pushed at the air as if moving on to another scene. “I hope this means something to you. It’s not clear to me, but I don’t want to miss anything.”
Find herself… or sisters who looked just like her…
“Keep going,” Roxie said hoarsely. Had any of those motorists or news cameras caught her sisters on film? Maybe Ingrid or the girl out front had seen her with Lexie.
Yes, that’s what must have happened. They kept an eye on the street for potential patsies.
“Got anything better than that?” she challenged.
The blonde traced a crease across Roxie’s palm. “Your love line is deep and long and twisting.”
Roxie sniffed. Well, that was one way to put it. Twisted.
“One man, forever and ever.” The woman traced the line back to its beginning and actually sighed. “Your rescuer.”
Their gazes connected and the feminine knowledge that hung in the air had nothing to do with premonition.
“Wow,” Ingrid breathed.
Yeah, Billy had that effect on women.
Roxie rolled her foot back onto her heel. He had that effect on her, too.
“He is just… wow.” The woman traced the love line on Roxie’s palm again and they both flinched when the static charge in the air sparked.
Ingrid let out a self-conscious laugh. “There’s no problem in that area of your life.”
“No problem?” Roxie couldn’t help sputtering. Now she knew the woman was a hoax.
Ingrid shook her head knowingly. “I call them as I see them. It doesn’t mean we have the same opinion.”
Roxie scratched the cat behind its ear and watched its eyes close in pleasure. Just because Billy scratched her in the right way didn’t mean they didn’t have problems.
Skepticism made her jaw set. She’d come here hoping for information about her parents, not this.
“Anything else?” she asked. She didn’t like the betraying hint of need that had entered her voice.
There’d been nothing specific, nothing she didn’t already know. But that was how this worked, wasn’t it? Talk vague enough and
anyone could make connections. She was beginning to think she’d fallen prey to a talented flimflam artist.
With a nice cat.
She scratched Moonlight’s chin and felt her purr.
Ingrid made another loop in the air with her index finger. “It’s looping again, your life.”
Yes, yes. Billy had come back, and soon he’d leave again. They’d already been over this.
“Only this time when you look in the mirror, it’s not yourself you see.”
Roxie frowned. Billy. Yes, she knew.
When Ingrid latched onto her hand this time, it wasn’t politely. Roxie looked up, ready to push her off, when she saw the woman’s eyes. They were blazing blue. The creepy pupils had narrowed to the size of pinpricks.
“You’ve recently met someone.”
Roxie was taken aback. “No.”
“Someone new.”
She thought hard. Everyone she’d had interactions with lately were people she’d known for a while… her sisters, Billy, Charlie, Skeeter, and even Landers Underhill.
“This person is important,” Ingrid stressed.
“How new?”
“Very new. Since the new moon.”
Roxie didn’t have a clue when that was, but it had to be within the last month.
She concentrated, but she could feel the session winding down. The air had taken on a weird vibration, like it was losing its hold. The incense had turned almost smoky, and she heard the bell over the door to the shop ring. All the outside influences clutched at her attention, drawing her outside the little bubble Ingrid had drawn.
“I can’t think of anyone.”
“It’s another loop, and this person will have a profound impact on your life.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll keep an eye out,” Roxie promised, lying through her teeth.
The Viking queen had had her for a while there. The woman had seen her on the news; it was the logical explanation. That was her job, to be observant. Roxie wasn’t sure quite what had been reported, but Ingrid must have used it as a starting point for some of her assumptions.
Her cat was probably friendly to everyone.
It was time to go. Roxie stood and the white puffball jumped down, walking away without a backwards glance. For some reason, that made her sadder than anything.
Because she believed the part about the cat being a rescue case.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get more,” Ingrid said, standing along with her.
“You gave me plenty,” Roxie replied. At least that was the truth.
The psychic turned up the lights and blew out the incense. They walked back out into the shop area, and Roxie was once again struck by the inconsistencies between the boutique and its owner. Ingrid did a good job of playing up that dichotomy to keep people off-balance.
Well, hooray for her.
Everyone had their little tricks of the trade to keep business coming through the door. She, personally, had big boobs on a billboard and teeny weenies in the kitchen. This woman used curiosity and hopes and dreams.
Roxie had just hoped a little too hard that there might be a grain of truth in the pile of hooey that had just been unloaded upon her.
She sighed as she opened her wallet and paid for the woman’s time. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another customer crouch down to pet Moonlight. She paused when the cat shied away and hurried towards the window.
Okay, maybe the woman had a dog at home or something.
Roxie turned towards the door, intent on leaving. She was surprised when the white cat leapt off the window seat and tried to follow her.
“Moonlight,” the shop girl chastised. She came over to retrieve the pet, but lurched back when it hissed at her.
Roxie felt that weird vibration in the air again, the one that made her heart pound hard. She looked at the cat at her feet and then at Ingrid. The tall blonde watched quietly, focused on what was happening.
Roxie knelt down, fully prepared for a hiss or claws, only the cat moved closer. It circled around her legs and nearly bopped her chin with its tail. Taking a chance, she picked it up.
The shop girl looked on in alarm.
Okay, so that expression wasn’t faked. The cat wasn’t friendly to everyone.
Yet it purred as Roxie held it to her chest.
Probably because it could hear her heart pounding like a big bass drum. She tried to stay impartial as she carried the puffball back to its owner. The cat played nice, licking Ingrid’s chin, but it twisted around again to look at Roxie.
Big blue eyes knowing…
“Someone new,” Ingrid repeated. “They’re important.”
Roxie nodded, her heart in her throat. Okay. Okay. She’d go with that.
She took a baby step back, wanting details, timelines, and a better explanation.
But yeah, that wasn’t the way this game was played.
Point, psychic.
Roxie reached out to pet the cat’s head. If her hand shook a bit, it couldn’t be helped. “Did you have her fixed?”
Ingrid frowned. “It was required by the shelter.”
Roxie nodded and lifted her chin. “Get her a kitten. She needs a family.”
* * * * *
“You chose the right name when you called that bar ‘The Ruckus’,” the caller said with a chuckle. “Is there anything else you’d like our listeners to know?”
Roxie had the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. “Tell them to come visit. It’s even wilder on the inside.”
She sorted through the paperwork on her desk, trying to find the week’s liquor invoice.
“And the billboard?”
“Come judge if you think it’s a good likeness.”
The DJ on the line laughed. “The face or the décolletage?”
Nice save, Roxie thought. “I’m the whole package, sweetie.”
“Ooo la la! Are you saying they’re real?”
“Don’t insult me.” Aha! The invoice. She ran her pen down the list. She knew she’d been shorted a bottle of rum.
“That publicity stunt the other day got a little out of hand. Stopped cars. Reported flashing. Can you tell us if you’re facing charges?”
“No comment,” she murmured.
“Do you have anything else planned?”
She didn’t have to. Her phone had been ringing off the hook, and a television reporter had been waiting when she’d returned from lunch. “You’ll have to wait and see,” she teased.
She suffered through more flirtation before the disk jockey finally let her off the line. Hanging up, Roxie rubbed her neck. She’d developed the worst crick. Radio stations, news stations, and even a blogger had called for interviews. The attention was good. A small business couldn’t pass up free advertising.
She just couldn’t concentrate.
She rubbed her eyes and tried again to find the rum purchase on the paper in front of her. It was early and The Ruckus wasn’t yet as busy as it had been the night before. Good thing, because she was still discombobulated by what had happened in that fortune teller’s shop.
She’d thought she’d developed a pretty stoic poker face over the years, although sometimes her temper got the best of her. And her frustration… and her hurt…
Okay, she had tells, damn it. The woman had read her like a pro.
But what about that creepy cat?
The cute, cuddly, lovable cat who seemed to have its own Wiccan ways.
She’d never heard of anyone being able to train a cat before. As much as she didn’t like the species, she did like their attitude. And she’d liked that cat…
Rescues.
Her chest squeezed so hard, she nearly wheezed. It was that word. That diabolical con woman had used it to get to her and, boy, had it hit its mark.
Raking her hair back with both hands, Roxie stood up from her desk. She was getting nowhere with the bills and inventory, and she just didn’t have it in her to be flirty for one more phone call. She flexed her toes, but then stuffed them int
o the painful boots she’d discarded under her desk. She really needed to do something about her footwear.
Zipping them up, she headed out to the bar. Maybe something out there would distract her.
“Whitey,” she greeted as she walked by the jukebox.
He was deep in an ardent discussion with a Suzuki rider. Harleys versus crotch rockets. That was a discussion that never went well. She’d have to keep an eye on that one.
Old Martha gave a wave. “Got any shows planned for tonight, hon?”
“Shows?”
The woman gave a saucy wink. “First there was your ex, then the cute cops, and then that snobby little rich boy… You’ve been bringing the sexiest men in for us to watch.” Martha held up her beer. “Charlie never did that.”
No, Charlie hadn’t and it was a good thing he hadn’t witnessed the drama over the past several nights. His biker bar had been meant for beer, darts, and the occasional deep discussion on vintage motorcycle parts.
“No plans,” Roxie said, continuing on to the bar. “Then again, you never know.”
The bartender was busy fixing a line to the tap, so she jumped in to help elsewhere. Loops. What the hell was that supposed to mean? She wiped a smudge off a glass, but nearly ran into her employee when she turned to stack it with the others. “Whoa. Sorry, Bud.”
Puddles of various kinds of alcohol dotted the bar, and she wiped it down like a swirling dervish. A light had been shown to her? The hell it had. She flipped the towel and continued down the bar.
She was thinking so hard, she didn’t see the pretty redhead who was leaning her elbow against the bar. She banged into her, and the girl’s arm jerked reflexively. In slow motion, beer jumped out of the mug she was holding and onto the guy who was flirting with her.
“Ohmigosh,” the redhead said in dismay.
“Oh, shit.” Roxie grabbed a fresh towel and passed it to the guy. He was a bit rough around the edges, but cute. She refilled the girl’s glass and saw her embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Use it as an excuse to get his shirt off.”
“Goblin’s Ale, on the end,” the barkeep said, pushing a full mug into her hand. “And no offense, but could you go ‘help’ out in the kitchen or something?”
Roxie winced. Was she really that bad?
Out of habit, she grabbed a coaster. When she turned to serve, she saw a familiar face. “You’re back.”
Roxie Page 13
