Southern Belles and Spells Matchmaker Mysteries

by Amy Boyles

  She waved my concern away. Kimberly clearly wasn’t going to let a little bit of uncertainty get in the way of meeting her soul mate.

  Who could blame her?

  She beamed at me. “Are you here because you want to meet him, too? My dreamboat—the most handsome man on earth?”

  I wanted to kick a little common sense into her, but I didn’t. “No, I’m here because I’m meeting the woman who I believe will be Jamison Huggins’s soul mate. She’s arriving, too.” I scanned the platform and spotted Jamison slowly making his way toward me.

  I unhooked Kimberly from my arm. “Oh, there he is. I need to speak with him.”

  I left Kimberly clinging to a pole for balance and waved down Jamison. He wrapped me in a huge hug. “Dudette Calhoun,” he said in his surfer-boy voice, “it is so amazing to see you!”

  Jamison Huggins had sun-bleached blond hair, tan skin and was as nice as they came. He did have the whole surfer-vibe thing going on, which could put some folks off, especially seeing that there weren’t any oceans anywhere near Witch’s Forge, a town tucked deep in the heart of Tennessee’s Smoky Mountains, but to each their own.

  Jamison brushed his hand over his hair. “When you told me you had found my soul mate, at first I thought it was a bit crazy, but now that I’m here, I think it’s pretty rad.”

  I linked my hand through his arm. “You’re going to love Reese. Her profile showed up on my desk ages ago. I couldn’t see her match then, but when I met you, I knew you’d be perfect for one another.”

  Maybe there’s something you should know about me—my name’s Charming Calhoun and I’m a matchmaking witch. That’s how my power works. I can often see someone’s soul mate. Once I see them, it’s my job to bring two people together.

  In fact, that’s what I was doing in Witch’s Forge—bringing this old dried-up tourist town back to life one match at a time.

  Jamison nodded appreciatively. “Whatever you can do to keep Witch’s Forge alive, Miss Calhoun.”

  I just knew that the woman I had picked for Jamison would be his perfect match.

  “So what’s she like?” he asked.

  I was impressed that the surfer dude was so into my find for him. “Well, I’ve known Reese for a while. She’s great.”

  I’d pretty much told Reese that, too. In fact, I had so much confidence in their union that I suggested she prepare to stay in Witch’s Forge.

  Can you say wedding bells, anyone?

  Jamison rubbed the back of his hair. “What makes you think we’ll be perfect?”

  “Because—”

  Right as I was about to answer, the loud whistle of a train filled the air. Steam rolled up in the distance, and the chug of the engine announced that the Express had arrived.

  I couldn’t wait. Beside myself with joy, I clapped my hands. “You are going to love her,” I gushed to Jamison.

  The train slowed to a crawl. Smoke billowed around us, creating a thick fog.

  I had retreated a few steps to give myself some room when my back hit something hard.

  “Oof!”

  “Watch where you’re walking.”

  I whirled around. Towering nearly a foot above me loomed a broad-shouldered man with dark, wavy hair that tumbled to his shoulders. Silvery eyes cut me to the core, but I wasn’t about to let this vampire get the best of me.

  You heard that right—vampire.

  I smirked. “I can step wherever I want. Besides, unless I’m mistaken, it would take a lot more than one of my heels to hurt you.” I batted my eyelashes at him. “Unless the big bad vampire isn’t as strong as he pretends to be.”

  “Oh, I’m strong,” Thorne Blackwood said.

  He said it so smugly it felt like the vampire’s tongue had lashed out and struck my face. I hated it when Thorne got the best of me. But I would not let him know it.

  “I’d tell you to prove how strong you are, but I’m not that interested in finding out.”

  Thorne leaned down. He got so close one of his blond highlights tickled my cheek. I sucked in a breath.

  I heard his lips pull back in a smile before Thorne whispered in my ear. “Are you getting on that train and leaving my town?”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “As if. For your information, aboard that train is Jamison Huggins’s soul mate.”

  It was Thorne’s turn to laugh. “You found the surfer a mail-order bride?”

  Heat dotted my cheeks. “What’s wrong with that? Why can’t Jamison have a wife?”

  Okay, so that’s really what Reese was. Not officially, and not to Jamison, but I knew they’d get along great and I had every hope that Reese would remain in Witch’s Forge and become his wife.

  I just knew it would happen.

  Thorne shook his head. “He’s just never seemed the type of man who’s interested in hooking up with anything other than a surfboard. And you can’t even surf around here.”

  I waved away his ignorance. “Even surfers have soul mates.” I extended my hand toward his arm. “Would you like for me to find your soul mate? All I have to do is touch you and concentrate. Maybe once you find love, you’ll have a better attitude, vampire.”

  In my estimation, the odds were one in two hundred million that Thorne had a match. He was big, rude, and unruly. Who would want to marry him?

  My fingers inched toward his naked flesh. Anger flashed in Thorne’s silvery eyes. Fast as quicksilver, Thorne’s hand clasped my wrist.

  “If I want to find my soul mate, I’ll do the looking, thank you very much,” he growled.

  The venom in his voice surprised me. We stared at each other, and something in my gut stirred—probably bile. I hated a vampire’s touch. They were cold, disgusting creatures.

  Except there was nothing cold about the warmth in Thorne’s touch.

  “Oh. Um. Okay.” I tugged my wrist, but Thorne wouldn’t release me. “Do you mind giving me back my hand?”

  His fingers uncurled, and as quickly as I’d been captured, I was released. “As you wish.”

  Out of nervous habit, I scratched at the old scar on my neck—two puncture wounds. “You say it as if you were doing me a favor.”

  One side of Thorne’s mouth curled into a smug smirk that I wanted to rip right off. “I thought I was doing you a favor.”

  “As if.”

  I shot daggers of fire at him with my eyes, completely oblivious to anything else going on in the world until Thorne calmly dragged his gaze from me, said, “Watch out,” and tugged me into his rock-solid chest.

  “Oomph!” A surge of air shot from my mouth as I landed on him.

  “Excuse me, coming through.” A man wearing a black fur coat in late summer and pushing a dolly loaded down with suitcases shoved his way through the crowd, traveling through the exact spot where I had been standing.

  He didn’t slow for anyone, and I realized with annoyance that Thorne had just stopped me from being run into.

  I hated it when bad vampires did good deeds.

  “Excuse me, ma’am, but will you and your stupid pig get out of my way?”

  “Oh Lord.” There was only one person that man could be talking to. I dropped my head in disbelief, only to be annoyed when my forehead landed on Thorne.

  “You know you are really hard,” I grumbled. “Like how is that even humanly possible?”

  My gaze darted up to Thorne’s eyes, and I realized I was standing against his chest, pretty much hugging him for the entire town to see. That wasn’t good. I was a professional. No one needed to see me being all—something—I didn’t know what, with the local law enforcement.

  Our gazes locked, and surprise filled his eyes. Not wanting to know what that was about, I untangled myself from him and readied to save my great-aunt Rose.

  I pulled away, but my hair caught on something. “Ouch! What the…?” I tugged again, but it was no good. I was caught harder than a bear in a trap.

  “You’re stuck in a button,” Thorne said.

  My fingers danced
down a tendril of hair until they found the culprit. “I bet you’re loving this.”

  “Trust me, this is just as embarrassing for me as it is for you.”

  The hair wouldn’t come loose. “Why won’t it just let go?”

  “Because you’re making it worse.”

  From the way my hair was caught, I was stuck staring at the ground. It was unfortunate, because I wanted to look up and shoot Thorne a nasty expression.

  “I’m not making it worse. Would you just hold still?”

  “I am holding still,” he growled.

  “Stop moving.”

  “I’m not!”

  “Would you—”

  “You’re going to tear your hair.”

  “If you didn’t wear buttons made of glue, this would be easier,” I snarled.

  “If you knew what you were doing, it would be easier,” he said in a low, husky voice that made spikes run down my back.

  I ignored him and concentrated on the task. My fingers worked at the hair, but all they found was a big cemented knot. “It’s no use. We’ll just have to cut it off. I refuse to be tied to you any longer than I have to.”

  “Oh, because I enjoy it so much, too,” he said. “Would you move your hands and let me try?”

  “No.”

  “Unlike you, I can actually see what I’m doing.”

  “That doesn’t fill me with any more confidence,” I snapped.

  Without another word Thorne grabbed my hands in one of his—at least it felt like it.

  “What are you doing? Manhandling me?”

  “Ms. Calhoun, if I was manhandling you, you’d know it.”

  Touché.

  A second later I was free and gulping for fresh, late summer air full of humidity and bugs.

  “Thank goodness. I thought I’d never be free.”

  I jerked my head up toward Rose, who clutched Pig to her chest, a distraught look on her face.

  I slapped my thigh. “Great. Now I couldn’t help Rose and she looks upset.”

  “She’s fine,” he said. “Look. Now’s she feeding the pig chocolate.”

  And so she was.

  I glared up at him, a thousand words on the tip of my tongue—most of them not very nice and definitely not ladylike. I swallowed them all back down, gave him one last defiant look and stormed off.

  “Good day, Ms. Calhoun,” Thorne murmured.

  I didn’t bother to reply as I stomped toward the Express. Passengers streamed off, reminding me of ants looking for food. They landed on the platform, all wide-eyed and dazzled that Witch’s Forge was now open for business.

  Some of them were humans; some of them were witches. I didn’t want to think of what any of the others were—maybe werewolves, hopefully no more vampires. As far as I was concerned, Witch’s Forge had way too many of the latter.

  I glanced around as eager townsfolk greeted passengers, looking for a sign of Jamison, but couldn’t find one. Where was he? I wanted him to be standing next to me when Reese exited the train so that I could make formal introductions.

  I peered into the exiting people, who seemed to unfurl from the train like a ribbon. My heart rate jacked as I anticipated seeing Reese.

  “Charming!”

  I glanced around to see where the voice was coming from. I couldn’t see over the tops of the heads of the passengers, but it quickly became clear I didn’t have to.

  Kimberly sauntered up, her hand snaked through the arm of a tall man with a shock of dark hair. He wore pin-striped pants, a long-sleeved polo rolled to the elbows and had a smile that I swear sparkled in the sunlight.

  He was handsome and rugged yet refined, definitely reminiscent of the man I’d seen in a vision who was to be Kimberly’s soul mate. I’d seen his features, but not the finer details, and from the looks of it, the man on Kimberly’s arm looked like he might fit the bill.

  Kimberly beamed. “Charming, I would like for you to meet Mr. Dash Borden. Dash, this is my friend Charming.”

  “How do you do?” Dash said.

  “Nice to meet you,” I replied.

  Dash didn’t offer his hand, and I didn’t extend mine.

  Kimberly nodded to Dash. “We just met. Here. At the train. He was getting off, and we bumped into each other—literally. Then Dash explained he was in Witch’s Forge on business for his company, and I explained that I know all about Witch’s Forge and could give him a tour.”

  Kimberly winked at me. I knew what she was thinking—Dash Borden was her soul mate.

  Kimberly shot me an eager look. “Don’t you want to take Mr. Borden’s hand, Charming? Meet him officially?”

  This was it—the moment that could make or break Kimberly’s plan. All I had to do was touch Dash and I would know if she was his soul mate.

  Kimberly clearly wasn’t taking chances. “Go on, Dash. Charming is the best handshaker in town. She has an electric touch. Trust me. It’s quite original.”

  Dash extended his hand. “I’d be pleased to.”

  As I reached for him, a scream split the air. Everyone on the platform turned in the direction of the sound.

  It had been bone-chilling. What if it was Reese?

  Someone was in trouble, and I needed to know who.

  Chapter 2

  Needless to say I didn’t grab Dash’s hand. Instead I charged toward the scream, as did half the folks on the platform.

  Just like a movie, I pushed my way through the crowd. What if that had been Reese? Why would she scream?

  I reached the source and found Rose cradling Pig.

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  Rose’s cheeks burned bright pink. “I was standing here and that man with all the luggage came back right as a young woman cut through. You know, Charming, I think it was that woman you were looking for. She had that young handsome surfer man on her arm.” Rose gestured dramatically. “Of course he’s not nearly as handsome as that vampire—you know, the one who gets my blood running hot—but he’ll do.”

  Oh sheesh. Why’d I even ask?

  I noticed Thorne on the platform, an amused smirk on his face.

  “What happened then, Rose?”

  “Then the man reached for the woman. She screamed, and luckily for me I had my handbag on me, so I swatted him off.”

  Rose fluffed her downy white curls. “I have to say, I’m proud of myself for saving the day. If it hadn’t been for the brick I keep in my purse, that man might never have left.”

  My eyes widened. “You keep a brick in your purse?”

  “Of course.” Rose scoffed. “When I say I’m packing, what do you think that means—I’ve got a gun in there?”

  Well yes, in fact I did think that’s what it meant. But whatever—it was Rose’s world; I just lived in it.

  “Did you see which way they went?” I asked.

  Rose nodded. “They went back toward town. The couple said they’d see you at her welcoming party tonight.”

  My jaw fell. “Welcoming party?” This was news to me. “What party?”

  Rose shuffled from side to side. “You know, the type of party where there’s a big sign that says, ‘Welcome Home,’ and usually there’s punch, maybe cake. Oh, and don’t forget the war heroes. Lots of times at welcoming parties there’s a war hero.”

  I rubbed the flat of my hand against my face. “That’s because at those parties there is a war hero.”

  Rose shrugged as if we were splitting hairs, which I suppose we were. My aunt picked Pig up from the ground and tucked her under an arm. “I suppose if we’re done here, then we can go? We only came to meet your friend.”

  “We didn’t meet her,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Well, I met her and she’s lovely. You were right, Charming. That Reese and Jamison are going to make a perfect couple. I can’t wait for you to see them together at the party.”

  The crowd of folks dissolved. My gaze flashed to Thorne, who had slinked off toward the end of the station. It occurred to me that I didn’t kn
ow why he was at the train station. Who was the vampire here to meet?

  Not that it mattered to me, because it did not.

  Still, it frustrated me that Jamison and Reese had left the station without bothering to find me. The whole reason I was here was so that I could introduce the two.

  I wasn’t sure if it was my brilliance of pairing two folks who were so obviously perfectly matched that they ended up gravitating toward one another, or sheer luck, but either way, I was glad the match had worked out.

  “There’s something wrong with the humidity today,” my mother grumbled.

  Rose and I had arrived home, and when I say home, I mean an old courthouse with a mind of its own—literally.

  As soon as I stepped through the door, a coatrack pushed out from a wall, I assume wanting to take my coat, but as it was ninety degrees outside, I wasn’t wearing one. Not wanting to hurt the house’s feelings, I draped my purse over one of the arms.

  “What do you mean, there’s something wrong with the humidity?” I pointed to my hair. “It’s as frizzy as it normally is.”

  Frizzed it was. My caramel-colored tresses were wiry at the ends, which meant I’d have to do a little extra flat ironing before I went back out.

  “Does it look like this is normal frizz?” she said coldly.

  My mother, Glinda Calhoun, stood in front of me, her long red hair softly framing her face. Her aqua eyes were strikingly set in her delicate features. She wore a rose-colored dress, her favorite color, that billowed softly around her ankles. I swear my mother was ready to step into a cocktail party at any hour of the day.

  But with her words, Mama lifted a strand of hair and dropped it. Problem was, the strand stayed exactly where it was.

  I stared at it. “What’s wrong with your hair?”

  “Really, Charming, what makes you think anything is wrong with my hair? Why can’t it be the screwy magic of this town?”

  I cocked my head from side to side. “Because my hair isn’t doing that.”

  Rose stared at Mama. “Charming’s right. Something is wrong with you, Glinda.”