Dear Reader,
Nocturne Falls has become a magical place for so many people, myself included. Over and over I’ve heard from you that it’s a town you’d love to visit and even live in! I can tell you that writing the books is just as much fun for me.
With your enthusiasm for the series in mind – and your many requests for more books – the Nocturne Falls Universe was born. It’s a project near and dear to my heart, and one I am very excited about.
I hope these new, guest-authored books will entertain and delight you. And best of all, I hope they allow you to discover some great new authors! (And if you like this book, be sure to check out the rest of the Nocturne Falls Universe offerings.)
For more information about the Nocturne Falls Universe, visit http://kristenpainter.com/sugar-skull-books/
In the meantime, happy reading!
Kristen Painter
Welcome to Nocturne Falls, the town where Halloween is celebrated 365 days a year. The tourists all think it’s a show: the vampires, the werewolves, the witches, the occasional gargoyles flying through the sky. But the supernaturals populating the town know better.
Living in Nocturne Falls means being yourself. Fangs, fur, and all.
Telepathic petsitter Jordan Vaughn wishes she could forget her checkered past. Despite her genuine efforts to make amends, she falls short every time. When she meets the guy of her dreams, she’s sure that her bad-luck streak is over.
A head injury erased Harry Hill’s memory. Now, four years later, he’s built a new life in Nocturne Falls, complete with a gorgeous girlfriend.
Everything is falling into place—until someone tries to kill him. But will the past he can’t remember jeopardize his future with Jordan?
COURTING THE CAT WHISPERER
A Nocturne Falls Universe Story
Copyright © 2018 by Wynter Daniels
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—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction and was made possible by a special agreement with Sugar Skull Books, but hasn’t been reviewed or edited by Kristen Painter. All characters, events, scenes, plots and associated elements appearing in the original Nocturne Falls series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kristen Painter, Sugar Skull Books and their affiliates or licensors.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or Sugar Skull Books.
Published in the United States of America.
Cover designed by Jax Cassidy
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Where am I?
God, his head ached something awful. And his left arm. He inhaled the pungent smell of decaying leaves. Was he dreaming?
His eyes felt gluey as he opened them. But he still couldn’t see anything.
An owl hooted nearby, and the sound of birds flapping their wings came and went. No, not birds—bats.
His lower back protested as he eased himself into a sitting position. The sky was murky and black. No moon, lots of clouds.
Why was he there?
Something warm pushed against his side. He jerked away, which incited a fresh round of pain—his wrist, his neck.
A cat? Yes, a white one with a darker mask around its eyes. It purred and nudged his arm.
He let out the breath he’d been holding. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he glimpsed the trunk of a fallen tree a few feet away. And a steep wall of rock.
“How did I get here, cat?”
The animal started away then stopped and meowed at him. What was it trying to tell him?
Lightning lit up the sky. Seconds later, a boom of thunder. The air cooled. He pulled his collar tighter around his neck. A storm would only worsen his situation.
But what was his situation?
The cat trilled, imploring him to follow. It wasn’t as if he had a better plan, so he used the tree trunk to pull himself up. His head pounded, and both of his wrists were tender. Every muscle in his body complained. Why was he so sore?
He started after the feline, swallowing past the dryness in his throat. “I don’t suppose you know what happened to me, hmm? Or how long I’ve been here.”
The cat stopped, waited for him to catch up, then continued through the woods, over rocks and fallen branches. They climbed higher and higher until they reached a flat area.
“I’ve got to rest,” he told his four-legged guide. Why was he so weak? He sat on the ground, and the cat joined him as if it understood.
“What’s your name, kitty?” He smoothed the silky fur on its back as it purred in response. “I’ll call you…” He had no idea. It dawned on him that he didn’t know his own name. In fact, he couldn’t remember anything about himself—where he lived, his age, nothing. All he did know was that he had the mother of all bumps on the back of his head and several cuts and scrapes. He ran his fingers over the abrasion on his left arm and felt a newly-formed scab there. And although he couldn’t see it well, he was sure there was a bruise on his right wrist. How long had he been unconscious?
Getting to his knees, he patted his pant pockets. No wallet, no keys. No answers.
Another clap of thunder shook the ground. Sheets of rain instantly soaked his clothes.
The cat sat beside him, consoling him.
“Who am I?” he asked it. His stomach growled. When was the last time he’d had anything to eat? Chills racked his body.
He smoothed the cat’s wet fur. It pawed at his right front pocket. “What is it?” Sliding his fingers into the pocket, he felt something. He pulled out a damp, folded paper. Carefully opening it, he tried to make out what it said, but in the dark, it was impossible to read.
The cat’s ears perked up a second before the man heard the distinctive hum of a vehicle. Headlights hopscotched from tree to tree. “We must be close to a road,” he said to the cat. He stood up, but the vehicle was gone. Only the sound of the falling rain remained.
When the cat scampered away, the man offered up a silent prayer that it was going to lead him to civilization. He carefully slipped the paper back into the pocket of his shirt then followed the cat.
They walked for ten or twelve minutes, finally reaching asphalt. “Good kitty,” he said as the feline sat down at his feet. Within a few minutes, another vehicle drove toward them. He waved, and after that failed to get the driver to slow down, he started flailing his arms. But the car whooshed past at high speed, splashing water on the man and his cat.
He glanced down at the kitty. “Are you mine?”
It purred and rubbed against his shins.
“There’s my answer.” Minutes ticked past. Finally, another vehicle approached, slowing down as it came closer.
The driver lowered his passenger window a couple of inches. He was elderly with white hair and red-rimmed blue eyes. “What are you doing out here, son?”
For a moment, he wondered if the old man was someone he knew—his father, or grandfather. “Are you—?”
“You need
a lift somewhere?” the octagenarian asked.
Wherever he was, he did need a way out of there. Didn’t matter where the old man was heading. “I…yes, please.”
“Get in then.” The driver pushed open the passenger door.
“Thanks.”
The cat jumped inside ahead of him.
The senior man chuckled and petted it. “Well hello there.” He pointed to the seatbelt. “Buckle up, would you?”
“Sure.” He strapped himself in as the older man pulled back onto the pavement. “Do you know where we are?”
“Right smack in the middle of nowhere.” Another laugh. “’Bout twenty miles past Murrayville.”
Murrayville? He wished that rang a bell. Then he remembered the paper he’d stuck in his pocket. He took it out, but it was so wet that most of the ink had run together. Another vehicle passed them going the opposite direction, its headlights illuminating the letter for a brief moment. He was able to make out a few letters at the top right of the page—“Harr.” Harry? Was that him? If so, he had no idea if it was his first or last name. “What state is this?”
The old man narrowed his eyes at him. “Georgia. You all right?”
Not really. “Just a little thirsty.”
The old man flattened his lips. “I’m Jim Turner. What’s your name?”
He wished he knew. They passed a sign warning of a steep hill ahead. “Harry,” he said. “Harry Hill. And the cat’s name is…Kitty.”
The man snickered. “Very original. How’d you get that cut over your eye, Harry?”
His hand automatically went to the spot. “I’m not sure.”
The man mumbled something under his breath. “Maybe I should drop you at a hospital. Next one’s about an hour’s drive.”
He shook his head. “I feel okay.”
The older man gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “I’m headed to my daughter’s place just past Nocturne Falls. I’ll drop you anywhere along the way.”
“Nocturne Falls?” he asked.
“The place where it’s Halloween every day. Nice little town.”
No, he didn’t know. He shrugged. “Sure, why not?” He just hoped that in the light of day he’d figure out who the hell he was.
Chapter One
Four years later…
I will not screw this up.
Jordan Vaughn checked the time on the wall clock in her sister’s kitchen before slipping a pan of bacon into the oven. She had to leave for her petsitting gig in less than an hour to feed all the cats by nine. Her client had stressed that the kitties would be very unhappy if they didn’t eat first thing in the morning.
Jordan wasn’t nearly as proficient at multitasking as her twin, but how many times had she watched Mallory cook breakfast, pack a lunch, and feed the dog and cat—all while putting on her make-up?
Her twin loved to joke that Jordan couldn’t even get a glass of water without making a mess, but today she’d prove Mallory wrong. Today marked one year since Mal had met her fiance, so Jordan was determined to surprise them with a home-cooked breakfast. After all, Jordan owed the couple her very life after they’d rescued her from a dastardly duo who’d kidnapped her last year.
She probably should have set her alarm for an hour earlier, though. After switching on the burner under the frying pan, she cracked four eggs into a bowl and started beating them.
Hazel—Mallory’s cat—hissed. Then the dog growled. What were those two up to? If they didn’t pipe down, they’d wake Mal and Cyrus before Jordan had their breakfast ready. She rolled her eyes as she set aside the eggs then headed into the living room to deal with the animals. “What’s goin on, guys?”
He took my catnip mouse, Hazel silently told her.
Did not, Truffle insisted.
Jordan spotted the toy behind the Yorkie. “Truffle, give it back to her, please. I don’t have time for an argument this morning.”
The pup scurried away, and Hazel immediately pounced on the mouse. Thanks, Jordan.
“Don’t mention it.” The moment she started from the room, an eardrum-popping screech exploded all around her. The smoke detector? And what was that smell? Something was burning. Oh, God!
Gasping, she raced back to the kitchen. Thick black smoke filled the air. She shut off the stove, grabbed a dishtowel and wet it before opening the oven. Flames poured out, engulfing her.
“What’s going on?” Mallory waved away the smoke and slammed the oven door shut. “What have you done now?”
Cyrus shoved Jordan out of the way as he grabbed a fire extinguisher from under the sink and doused the flames.
Mal yanked open the front door. “Turn on the exhaust fan,” she called to no one in particular.
Jordan did as her sister asked. Stepping back, she surveyed the disaster she’d caused. The entire place reeked of burnt bacon. A huge black stain covered the top of the stove and the wall behind it.
“My beautiful kitchen.” Mallory sank into a kitchen chair and sniffled.
Cyrus wrapped Mallory into his arms. “If I still had my magic, I could clean this up in no time flat.” But he’d lost his powers last year after Mal had wished for him to be a genie no longer.
Jordan gulped. “I was going to surprise you both with breakfast in bed. For your anniversary.”
Mal smoothed back her long blond locks. “You succeeded in surprising us. That’s for sure.”
Clenching her jaw to keep herself from crying, Jordan kneeled in front of her sister. “I’m so sorry. What can I do to make this up to you?”
Mal just shook her head. “Not now, Jordan.”
Standing, Jordan nodded. “Would you rather I just left?”
Cyrus patted her shoulder. “That’d probably be a good idea.”
Resisting the urge to cry, Jordan picked up her suitcase from the front hall and walked out.
Would she ever be able to do anything right? She’d screwed up time and again in her relationship with Mallory. In truth, she’d envied her twin as far back as she could remember. In school, Mal had always made better grades than Jordan, and even though they were identical, boys had flocked around Mallory, while they’d mostly ignored Jordan.
Until that day during their senior year when Mallory’s then-boyfriend had started flirting with Jordan.
Of all her regrets, Jordan’s greatest was taking up that cheater on his lewd proposition. No matter how many times she’d apologized to Mallory, her sister had never truly forgiven her for the egregious betrayal. Jordan couldn’t blame her.
The very least Jordan could do was to move out of Mal’s house as soon as possible, not only to give the couple the privacy they deserved but also to prove to her parents and her sister that she could stand on her own two feet. Her dog-walking and pet-sitting service hadn’t taken off as well as she’d hoped, and she was barely making ends meet. All she could do was pray that her luck was changing. After the service that the Tuckers had originally hired for the job canceled at the eleventh hour, Mrs. Tucker had phoned Jordan last night. Jordan had jumped at the opportunity to make a nice chunk of change, plus the job would give her some long-overdue alone time.
Fifteen minutes after she’d left Mal’s place, she parked her Smart Car on Eerie Avenue then double checked her phone for the address Mrs. Tucker had texted her. Yup, this was it. She whistled as she took in the bay windows, the twin turrets, and the beautiful wraparound porch. The Victorian-style home was easily five times the size of Mallory’s house, which was actually quite spacious. But this…this was stunning. Little had she known when she agreed to take this job that the Tuckers lived in a virtual mansion. Score!
She grabbed her suitcase from the trunk and headed up the walk. Mrs. Tucker had said she would leave a key under the doormat, but when Jordan checked, she found nothing but a few dead leaves. She set her bag on a wicker loveseat and tried calling her. But she went straight to voicemail.
Hmm. A black cat appeared in the bay window.
Perhaps he knew where his mistress had put the key. Thank goodness Jordan could telepathically communicate with animals.
She tapped on the glass to say hello. “I’m Jordan,” she told him, “I’ll be staying with you while your people are away.”
Another cat joined him on the sill, an orange tabby, so Jordan introduced herself to him as well. “How many of you live here?” she asked it.
Six, the black one silently told her.
Plus four kittens, the tabby added.
“Wow, no wonder she wants me to stay here while she’s away.” She scooted closer to the window. “One problem, though. Your mistress promised to leave me a key, but I can’t find it. Do either of you know where it is?”
Nope.
Sorry.
How was she going to get inside?
The peoples’ bedroom window is open a little. You could climb through it, the tabby told her.
I did that once after I got out of the house, the black cat said. Climb up the ladder next to the porch.
Ladder? She glanced at a rose-covered trellis and gulped. Sure, it would make a perfect ladder for a cat, just not for a person. “There must be another way.”
I don’t think so, the tabby said.
Come on, the black cat said. We’re hungry. The kittens are whining. We need you.
Maybe she could stand on a chair then hoist herself up to the balcony. “Okay, I’ll get in,” she assured them. Somehow. Maybe there was an actual ladder around back. But after a thorough search of the yard, she didn’t find anything to help her reach the second story.
Three black and white kittens appeared in the window next to the back door. She tried the doorknob. Locked.
Two of the kittens pawed the glass. Feed us, they said.
Darn. She had to get inside. The upstairs window looked to be her only option. So she returned to the front of the house and offered up a silent prayer that the trellis was stronger than it appeared. The hardest part would be making it to the edge of the roof over the porch. From there, the balcony was only a few more feet farther, albeit steeply slanted.
Courting the Cat Whisperer Page 1
