by Cindy Stark
She hurried to the living room and secretly watched Charlie stride to her front door. His gait was long and sure, and his faded red t-shirt outlined his muscled torso, encouraging a moment of appreciation from her. Not that he was her type or anything, but he was cute. Her conscience immediately slapped back with a reminder that he might be her type. She cursed her bad luck.
He knocked. She crossed to the front door and opened it with a smile. “Good morning.”
Charlie dipped his head in greeting. “Morning Hazel. Ready for me to get started?” He seemed to be in a good mood, and she wondered if that meant something. Perhaps he was happier now that Belinda was no longer on earth. Maybe he’d finally realized he was better off without her in his life. Regardless, he didn’t seem too brokenhearted.
“You’re a little early.” Stunned at the words tumbling from her mouth, she clamped her lips shut and realization settled over her. The spell would work for anyone who talked to her until it wore off. Anyone…with any questions.
A frown settled across his forehead. He pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the time. “Ten minutes.” He shrugged. “I can wait in my truck if you’d like.”
She wanted to tell him that she’d meant to say ten minutes early was great, but the words wouldn’t come. Holy harpies.
It took her several seconds to process what her mouth could speak. “No, no. Now will be just fine. I’m so happy to have you here.”
The smile returned to his face. “Great. I appreciate the work.”
“Of course. I know what it’s like to be a small business owner. There’s no guaranteed paycheck if we don’t work.”
He dipped his head in agreement. “Yes, ma’am.”
She needed a minute to compose herself. “I think we should start with trimming up the trees. Let me grab my shoes, and I’ll meet you out back and show you where.”
“Sounds great.” He nodded and turned away.
She closed the door and sagged against it. She really needed to start thinking smarter if she was going to cast any more spells. As it stood, she didn’t dare try the truth spell on Charlie until she’d done more research.
Earlier when she’d thought it had been a great idea, she’d only considered its use for answers she wanted to know. Now she could see that it would require her to be honest in every statement that she made. She wasn’t sure she could put an innocent person in that situation.
Blessed Mother, she hoped it was a short-lived spell.
When she stepped outside a few moments later, Charlie already had the chainsaw going. He trimmed off the low hanging branches on her biggest red oak tree.
He hadn’t noticed her, so she paused and took the opportunity to study him. She opened her senses and searched for hints of malice or the residue that sometimes remained with a person after they’d harmed another. Most people could recognize this kind of underlying blemish in others, and they tended naturally to avoid such people. Still, many didn’t understand where the negativity came from like she did.
But she sensed no such darkness in Charlie. In fact, he seemed to have an open and warm heart. Not to mention, a really nice set of biceps.
He twisted, angling toward another limb, and the action pulled his shirt tight across his abs. Nice.
Hazel had seen the man Belinda had dumped Charlie for, and she hadn’t gotten the best vibe from Grant Weiland. Not to mention, he wasn’t much too look at. Especially not compared to Charlie.
The fact that Belinda had chosen Grant over him made her wonder at the poor woman’s sanity. Charlie seemed to be a decent, likable fellow, and boy, did he have the looks.
She couldn’t say the same about Grant. Though his family did have money, and after hearing what Quentin Fletcher had said about Belinda basically stealing from his grandpa, Hazel would have to guess that money had played an important role in Belinda’s life. If her uncle was a state senator, then chances were likely her parents had money as well.
Even so, it hadn’t seemed like they’d shared much of it with Belinda. Maybe that’s what made her so desperate where money was concerned.
The sound of the chainsaw died to a low growl. A branched cracked, fell to the ground, and bounced on the soft green grass. Charlie must have caught sight of her because he shifted a quick glance in her direction. The smile that followed could have melted even the oldest nun’s heart.
He lifted a hand in greeting. “Hey.”
She stepped forward, moving until there was only a few feet between them. “Look at you. You’re already hard at work.”
He shrugged and grinned. “I always aim to please.”
“Yes, I can see that you do.” She smiled as though she was innocent of any innuendo and then pinned her tongue between her teeth until the need to speak passed.
Focus on the work. That was the only thing that might save her self-respect and reputation.
She glanced about her yard and pointed out various things that she needed help with. “It looks like you know what you’re doing with trimming the trees, so I’ll leave that to your expertise. Afterward, the shrubs could really use cleaning up. My landlord said I could add another garden, too. I was thinking I’d put it along the north fence so that it gets lots of sunny, southern exposure.
“I don’t know what kind of tools you have.” She internally groaned at her choice of words. “I mean equipment.” She should really stop now.
She sensed him fighting to repress his laughter, and she died inside. “I have whatever you need, Hazel.” His low, masculine words hovered in the air between them.
Blessed Mother. Heat flared across her cheeks. Great. Now, he thought she was flirting with him. “I didn’t mean…”
He held up a hand, stopping her and chuckled. “It’s okay. I know what you meant. Besides, you and Peter are dating, so I probably shouldn’t make a play for his girl. It’s never a good idea to piss off the cops, and I doubt I’m your type.”
“That’s not true.” The words were out before she could stop them. No, no, no, no.
Her answer generated interest in his eyes. “What’s not true? You and Peter aren’t dating?”
The hole she’d dug grew deeper, but she knew if she tried to clarify her statement, she’d likely be swallowed whole by it.
“We are.” She fisted her hands, forcing her nails into the fleshy part of her palms, hoping the pain would shut her up.
Confusion painted his expression. “Then…you want to date us both?”
“No. Never mind. We’ve gotten way off track.” Blessed Mother, she was a mess. She forced a chuckle, hoping to laugh off the situation. “How about while you’re busy with the trees, I’ll go work in my herb garden. If you have questions, let me know. When you’re ready, I’ll show you where I want the new garden.”
With her cheeks burning, she strode away as fast as her feet would carry her.
Charlie approached her a half hour later, startling her from her thoughts. “Hey.”
She looked up from where she’d been clearing grass from around her lavender. She lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the bright sun. “Oh, hey.” She wanted to say something funny or lighthearted but didn’t trust her mouth.
“All done over there. Do you want to show me where you want the new garden and the approximate dimensions?”
“Sure.” She stood, brushed grass from her jeans, and led the way to the area on the north side of the lawn. She buried the end of a shovel approximately five feet from the wooden fence and then counted out paces to equal another ten for the length of it. “Something like this. Doesn’t have to be exact.”
He nodded and then drove a small wooden spike into the ground near the shovel. He staked out two other corners and ran a length of twine to mark all but one side.
She waited while he retrieved a tiller from his truck and then watched him work the machine, rolling clods of grass deep into the ground while bringing up rich, dark-brown soil. The sight of it stirred her imagination and inspired excitement as she thought
of all the things she could grow.
Being an earth witch, she had an affinity for seeds, plants, leaves, and flowers. So many possibilities to create beauty, tea and other potions.
As far as she was concerned, the earth was the Blessed Mother’s greatest gift to them all.
In no time, he had the area turned into a beautiful brown square, an artist’s palette, to be sure. “That looks fantastic. Just what I imagined. And you did it so fast.”
“Great.” He grinned, obviously enjoying her approval. “Are you going to use it to grow more herbs for your teashop?”
“No,” she said without thinking. “Mostly for personal use.”
Curses. She hoped he didn’t delve any deeper, or she’d be spouting all the ways she’d used her herbs for potions and salves to help any number of ailments. In the blink of an eye, he might learn all about her witchy abilities.
He eyed the area and then turned back to her. “That’s a lot of herbs for one person.”
Sweat trickled between her breasts. “I’ll send some to my mom, too.” That was the truth.
“If you’re looking for a place with good prices on plants, check out Harriett’s Nursery. Follow Camden, and you’ll find it. If you go, tell her I sent you.”
They were back to casual conversation. Perfect. “That’s great. Thanks so much.”
He cleaned up his tools, and she retrieved money to pay him. When she met him outside by his truck, she was surprised at the cloud of high anxiety surrounding him. He’d been fine all morning.
Charlie finished filling out her receipt, separated the yellow copy and handed it to her. He hesitated longer than he should have, and she braced herself for what might come next. “You knew Belinda, right?”
Dang it. Here was the conversation she’d anticipated, and she cursed the fact she didn’t maintain control over her full faculties so that she could exploit it. “I didn’t know her very well. Mostly just from seeing her at Cora’s.”
He nodded, his eyes distant. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
Hazel’s heart sank to his vibration, and she placed a comforting hand on his forearm. “I know. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Genuine appreciation flickered in his gaze. “Thank you. Not many people understand that, even though we’d broken up, I still cared for her.”
“It’s hard to turn off those feelings.” She’d experienced similar emotions with Victor. She tested her next words in her mind before speaking them to make sure they would come out correctly. “I’m sure it makes it harder to know that one of the last conversations you had was a fight.”
He expelled a deep breath. “Yeah. That’s right. I forgot you were there.”
“She sounded pretty heartless, if you ask me.”
His expression grew sadder, and she cursed herself for her honesty.
“She was mad because I wouldn’t agree with her that it was over. I still think we could have made things work. But she’d found someone new. Grant Weiland. Harvard graduate. She always was one to want the newest, shiniest things.”
A spark of anger touched his last words. But she couldn’t tell if the resentment intertwined with his feelings was enough for him to want to kill her.
If not Charlie, then perhaps Grant was the murderer. She wondered if Peter had checked out Belinda’s latest boyfriend. “I don’t know Grant very well.”
Charlie snorted his derision. “He’s as shallow and materialistic as they come. He’d been dating Glenys Everwood but told Belinda he’d broken up with her.”
Glenys Everwood again, she noted.
“But a friend told me she’d seen him and Glenys together out by Redemption Pond.”
That didn’t necessarily mean anything. “Maybe he was letting her down easy.”
He tossed the receipt book in the open passenger door of his truck and closed it. “That’s not what I heard. The only type of laying was him on top of her, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh…” She drew out the word. “I see.” That was a problem then. A lover’s triangle never ended well for at least one of them.
Anger flashed in his eyes, and his gaze lasered on Hazel. “Belinda was a toy to him, something to be used and tossed. But I couldn’t get her to see that.”
Her hackles rose in response. Perhaps, she shouldn’t have encouraged this conversation.
He gripped his hands into fists and then released them. “She trusted him over me, and now she’s dead.”
A freezing tendril of fear drew down her back, leaving her with shivers. A Charlie fierce with hatred had replaced the kind one who’d shown up to help her. She couldn’t tell, though, if he was angry at Belinda or at who had stolen his possibility of reconciliation.
She needed to steer them back to safer ground. “I’m so sorry, Charlie. I know Peter will find the killer soon. He won’t give up until he does.”
As quickly as his anger had reared, it disappeared. His shoulders sagged, and sadness permeated everything about him. He shook his head. “Even if he does, it won’t bring her back.”
She held her gaze steady and kept her tone low and calm. “But it might bring closure, and that could help you.”
Emotion welled in his eyes. He drew his knuckles beneath his nose as his openness retreated into darkness. “Thanks for listening, Hazel. Sorry to dump all this on you.”
Her heart reached out to him, trying to reconnect. “No, don’t be sorry. This is a lot to bear.”
He gave one quick nod. “I’ve gotta go. Thanks again for the work.”
“Thank you for your help,” she said, but he’d already turned away.
He strode to the driver’s side and opened his truck door. He closed it with a slam. The engine started, and Charlie drove away like demons chased him.
Hazel hesitated all of five seconds before she pulled her phone from her pocket and fired off a message to Peter, asking him to stop by her house when he’d finished his day. She wasn’t too happy that the flow of information would likely be one-sided during their conversation, but she felt Peter needed what insight she could give him from her interaction with Charlie.
Then she remembered the curse she’d placed upon herself and considered retracting her offer. But, on second thought, she could wait a few hours and see what happened. If the curse remained, she could call off her invitation then.
Thirteen
When Hazel received a text from Peter several hours later stating he was on his way, she slipped the bowl of beef stew from the fridge and placed it in the microwave to reheat it. The curse had lifted not long after she’d gone into her shop, and she’d hoped Peter would have been able to leave for the day by dinnertime. With the magnitude of this case, she should have known better.
A knock sounded on her front door, sending her pulse racing. “Why do you have to do that every single time?” she muttered to her body as she strode through her living room.
Mr. Kitty answered her question with a loud meow.
She cast him a sideways glance. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
When she reached the door, she inhaled deeply, exhaled, and then opened it. “Hey,” she said with a smile in her heart. Even if Peter had frustrated her more than usual lately, she was addicted to the delicious feelings that pervaded her every time she peered into those devastating green eyes.
A look of genuine happiness resided in his tired expression. “Hey, beautiful.” Without asking, he pulled her into his arms and placed a possessive kiss on her lips.
She soaked up pleasure until he leaned back, leaving her breathless.
“Something smells really good.” His stomach rumbled in agreement. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Come on in.” She grasped his hand and tugged him toward her kitchen. “Not eating is not smart. How are you going to be at the top of your game if you don’t? Then the feds will walk all over you.”
“I know. I know. Things have been crazy busy, and I just forgot until I walked in here.”
She pushe
d him into a chair, loving the feel of his strong shoulders beneath her fingertips. “Sit down, and let me take care of you. If you’re not going to look out for yourself, then someone has to.”
He smiled at her in relief, and her heart slipped farther down the slippery slope. “Thank you, Hazel. You’re a godsend.”
Or sent from the Blessed Mother, she though. Either way, making him happy made her happy.
She dished up rich stew, pulled a spoon from a drawer, and took it to him.
His eyes widened in anticipation. “Homecooked or canned?”
“Homecooked, of course.” Though she had used a recipe from Cora.
He groaned in pleasure. “Lord, have mercy on my soul.” He lifted a spoonful to his lips and groaned again as he ate his first bite.
She chuckled, enjoying the pleasant sensations that came from giving to another person. “I forgot the rolls.” She retrieved the covered plate of sourdough rolls that she’d picked up from Cora’s earlier.
He tilted his neck to each side as though stretching his muscles. “Amazing,” he said with his mouthful.
She smiled, knowing he was embellishing his praise but enjoying it all the same. “I can’t take credit for the rolls.”
“Don’t care.” He spooned in another bite, chewed and swallowed. “It’s all excellent.”
More than anything, she loved helping people. “I’m glad.”
She kept the conversation friendly and casual until he’d finished. “Do you have time to hang out for a while? I wouldn’t mind crashing on the couch.”
“For you? Anything.” He rotated his head as they walked into the living room.
“Neck bothering you?” She didn’t need him to answer to know that it was.
He squeezed the back of his neck. “Too many hours at the desk.”
The man worked too hard on a regular day in her opinion, but he was dedicated, and she admired him for that. “I have some ointment I made that might help.”
“If you’re offering a rub, I’ll take it. Anything to ease the pain.”
