A Southern Charms Cozy Potluck Box Set

by Bella Falls

  “Dash.” I patted the wolf shifter’s arm, garnering a look of hungry anticipation. “Go find Flint at the Harvest Moon. Discreetly. Ask him to get Gossamer here as soon as possible, please.”

  His eyes shifted to Mason, full of suspicion. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “Need her help if I'm going to make it.”

  “I swear to you that I will keep you safe from harm if you let me escort you,” insisted Dash.

  Mason shook his head. “No, I should be the one to get help for her.”

  I held up my hand to stop them. “Mason, if I'm remembering correctly, you have another task to perform. At least I think you do. Because I found it, right?”

  He frowned at me and shook his head just enough for me to know not to ask any more questions. Dash looked between the two of us in confusion.

  “But your safety is more important,” protested Mason.

  “If I risked myself for nothing, I’ll—”

  “I know,” the detective cut me off with a huff. “You’ll hex my hiney as well.” He grumbled under his breath something about the stubbornness of Goodwin women.

  Dash caught the throwaway comment and snickered once in agreement. With a nod to both of us, he took off in the direction of Main Street.

  Despite Mason and I being alone, I lowered my voice. “So did my last ditch effort work?”

  Mason produced the flask, holding it with a handkerchief. “Yes. But that doesn't mean I'm not angry with you.”

  “Why? I got the job done.” I cringed at the whine in my voice, but it hurt my feelings a little bit that I was getting scolded instead praised.

  “But at what cost? I can't tell you what it was like watching you struggle and debating whether or not to stop you.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

  “But you, of all people, understand why I had to sacrifice the way I did. Why I had to try. If it's our only lead, then I had to do it. By the way, you’re welcome.” I held out my hand. “Can I see it?”

  Mason's eyes darted around the near vicinity. Finding ourselves still alone, he nodded and placed the metal object nestled in the handkerchief in my hand.

  The last time I'd seen the flask was with Tipper. It seemed small and insignificant instead of the most important clue we’d found. Any adrenaline I had leftover from my victory dissipated in a puff of sadness. “Now what?”

  The detective kept a watchful eye on the flask. “I take it back with me and see if we can dust it for prints and test the insides to find out what the contents were.”

  I snorted. “Chances are it will pop positive for alcohol. It’s what he used to carry with him almost all the time.”

  “I hope it's that simple.” Mason furrowed his brow. It's more than helpful that you found it. But I'm not sure how much good will come of it.”

  “Why?” There I went again, whining.

  “Because when you touched it, you dislodged it from where it was laying. The flask tumbled and fell into the creek. Any chance of retrieving evidence from it has decreased significantly.” Taking the container back, he hid it away in his pocket again. “I’m sorry.”

  “So all of what I just went through was for nothing? And now the biggest clue to solving Tipper’s murder is useless.” Failure washed over me like an ocean wave, dragging me under.

  He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I didn't say it was hopeless. But I think it might be beyond the capabilities of what we have here in Honeysuckle.”

  I picked at a blade of grass, willing the tears pooling in my eyes not to fall. “You should check with Nana before determining that. This town has secrets that only a few know. There might be a possibility that someone here can help unexpectedly.”

  A thoughtful expression broke on the detective's face. “I’ll take that into consideration. In the meantime, I’ll make some calls to some former colleagues. Call in a few favors I’m owed.”

  That minuscule glimpse into his past piqued my interest. “Are you sure you want to burn those on this case?”

  “Absolutely,” he replied in such a soft voice, it caught me off guard.

  When I glanced up, the stoic wall that he routinely hid behind was gone. Nothing but warm care beamed back at me. I didn’t have enough strength to interpret what that meant. Or why an odd excitement bloomed in my stomach.

  I coughed in an attempt to cover my wonder and confusion. “After all, it is your first murder case in town. It might not go down well if it goes unsolved, right?”

  “Sure,” he said, distracted by something in the distance.

  Dash returned with Flint, who did his best to keep up with the wolf shifter’s mighty stride. If I had more strength, I could appreciate the situational comedy of the scene. But I was far worse off than I wanted to reveal to them.

  Gossamer flew directly to me, leaving a trail of pink fairy dust in her wake. “Charli, you look terrible,” she squeaked.

  “That's what a girl wants to hear.” I did my best to attempt a smile, my ability to stay conscious waning.

  “I can open the fairy path right away. But unless she can walk through, then I don't know how she’ll manage the travel.” Goss’s wings fluttered in agitation.

  “I’ll carry her,” insisted Dash.

  Gossamer gazed at him in surprise. “Mr. Channing, I'm not sure if you can. I’ve never heard of one of your kind using the path before. It might not work, or worse, you could get both of yourselves lost.”

  Dash spoke before Mason could protest. “I’m taking her, and I will guarantee her safety at whatever cost, Mrs. Hollyspring.”

  The fairy bobbed up and down in the air, a look of wonderment and admiration spreading on her face. “Very well. But I think I should escort the two of you to make sure.”

  Unable to waste any more time, I put an end to any argument over who would take me. “It’s settled then. Mason, go do what you need to do. Make sure that what happened here wasn't in vain. Okay, Dash. Goss. Whenever you're ready.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The shifter lifted me up as if I were as light as a feather. Dash cradled me in his arms with more care then I thought he possessed.

  “I’ve got you, Charli,” he whispered into my ear.

  Steadying myself, I nodded. “Goss, let’s get ‘er done.”

  Dash hesitated for a second, his muscles tensing underneath me. Could it be that the big scary wolf shifter feared the path of the fairies? I threw my arms around his neck to hold myself as upright as possible.

  Leaning in, I whispered back, “One step at a time.”

  His chest vibrated with something between a growl and a chuckle. He took a deep breath and stepped forward through the shimmering doorway in front of us. At my best, the fairy path discombobulated my senses. Now at one of the worst times I ever felt, I thought I might lose my lunch.

  “Hurry up,” I pushed.

  “I’m trying.” Dash grunted under the strain. “It feels like thousands of bees buzzing around and stinging me,” he gritted through his teeth.

  When I turned in his grasp to check on him, his appearance sent shivers of nerves down my body. Sweet honeysuckle iced tea! His dark stubble was growing longer and thicker. Thick hair, or possibly fur, was sprouting out all over him. His grunts turned more violent through gritted fangs.

  “Keep it together, Mr. Channing,” warned Goss. “Do not bring any harm to Charli while here, or I will make sure you do not make it. Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to stay stuck here.”

  “I’m trying.” His voice sounded more like the bark of an animal.

  “He’ll make it. I trust him.” I squeezed my arms around his neck tighter, willing my words to be true.

  “There it is,” Goss cried out. “Prepare yourselves.”

  With a push of energy, we emerged from the path as if breaking the surface of water, gasping for air. My family's house stood in front of us, the afternoon sun bathing the porch in a warm glow.

  Dash dropped to his knees, breathing hard but never letting go o
f me. His hair receded, and his teeth returned to normal with great effort. Sweat poured down his temples, and he continued to cradle my body in his strong arms.

  Nana rushed out the door. “Stupid child. Risking yourself like that.”

  Rolling my eyes would take too much effort. “I’m fine, Nana.”

  “She's lying,” retorted Dash. “If I had to make a guess, she's in pretty bad shape.”

  “Thank you, Gossamer dear. You.” Nana pointed a finger at Dash. “Bring her inside.” My grandmother directed her alarm at me. “You just ensured a huge dose of gray sludge, young lady. And I don’t want to hear one peep of defiance from you.” She swung the screen door wide and let it slam behind her, muttering about hexing me if she thought it would do any good.

  Dash chuckled. “You Goodwin women are all the same. I better obey.”

  “Hold up, Mr. Channing,” Goss said. “I wanted to say that what you did for her was very…”

  “Necessary?” he asked.

  “I was gonna say brave, but I’ll bet that will just embarrass you. Let me say thank you on all of our behalf. You showed your true character today, and your actions will speak well for you here in Honeysuckle.” Her wings sprinkled pink dust down on him in approval.

  His brow furrowed. “I’d rather this stayed between us. It’s nobody else’s business.”

  Goss’s delicate laugh tinkled in the air. “Good luck with that. It’s a small town, in case you haven’t noticed. Not much is kept secret. But I give you my word that no one will hear anything from me.”

  Dash relaxed a fraction. “Thank you.”

  “And you, Miss Charli. I don’t know what we’re going to do with you.” She stared at me, a tinge of sadness in her eyes. “But I know you well enough not to tell you to stay out of trouble. So, here.”

  She produced her pink wand from goodness-knows-where and flourished it in the air. In a cloud of sparkles and dust, a shiny object formed in her tiny palm.

  With excitement, she flew around me and clasped something around my neck. “There.”

  I lifted up the necklace to find a small key at the end of the chain. A giggle bubbled out of me. “It’s even in your signature color.” A tiny, sparkling pink key rested in my palm.

  “Of course,” she sniffed.

  “Does this mean we’re going steady?”

  She smacked me lightly on my head with her wand. “Don’t sass me. I just gave you a very useful gift. You seem to be getting into situations where you need a little extra help. Consider this an emergency backup. If you need it, and let me say I hope that you really don’t, just hold it in your hand and concentrate with intent. It will open a door to the path.”

  My mouth dropped open. Fairies rarely gave gifts like this. “Goss. I don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s nothing,” she shrugged. It took little effort to detect the lie in her high-pitched voice.

  “Thank you.” I fingered the key. “For everything.”

  She kissed my forehead, and I was pretty sure she left a tiny pink lip mark there. “I gotta get back to my Flinty. Take care of her, Mr. Channing.”

  “Call me Dash, Miss Gossamer.” The wolf shifter nodded at the tiny fairy, who blushed and rocketed off.

  “Are you two determined to watch the grass grow, or what? Move it,” Nana called out like a drill sergeant.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dash snapped into obedience, carrying me inside.

  I needed to remember the exact tone my grandmother used for future reference.

  I sat on a rocking chair on the front porch, my third glass of sludge in my right hand, gazing out at the late afternoon sun dappling through the trees. Moments like this made me glad to be alive on a normal day. On a day like today, it made me sad that I might not get that many of them anymore.

  The screen door creaked, and heavy footsteps stomped on the old planks of the porch. “Your grandmother said I was to make sure you'd finished that glass.” Dash held the fourth one in his hand. “Don't make me have to force-feed it to you.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  He chuckled, a rare smile spreading across his lips. “You think you'd be any trouble for me to take care of? I've taken down scarier monsters than you.”

  His statement reminded me of something Mason had said. “Is that so? I don't suppose that has anything to do with the past that Mason spoke about?” I knew I stood on shaky ground, but if ever there was a chance where he might take pity on me in answering some of my questions, it was now.

  His smile faded. “I don't like talking about my past.”

  “If you don't tell me something about yourself, how can we ever become friends? Here, I'll show you.” I pointed out to the nearby live oak dripping in Spanish moss in our yard. “See that tree yonder? That's the tree that my brother Matt swore up and down he'd seen pixies in. I was pretty young, so I hung on his every word and never thought once to question him. He was so convincing that one night when I saw sparkling lights in the branches, I decided I wanted to go capture one. I snuck out of the house and climbed up only to find that the lights were fireflies, not pixies.”

  Dash’s smile lit me up on the inside. I swallowed hard and continued. “Yeah, climbin’ up the tree was not the problem. Gettin’ back down was, especially at night for a young girl in a nightgown. I made it part way before my foot slipped and I fell the rest of the way. Broke my arm.” I pointed to a specific line on my skin. “Right here. My mom and dad were furious at Matt, but it ended up getting me a whole lot of attention and sympathy as my arm healed. Also, I got to eat all my favorite foods for weeks, so I couldn't stay mad at him for too long.”

  “Sounds like he wasn't that great of a brother.” Dash frowned as if he might go find Matt right now and give him what for.

  “Actually, he was. But siblings don't always get along, do they?”

  A dark shadow crossed Dash’s face, and he gazed out at the tree. “No, they don’t.”

  Silence followed as I waited for an explanation. When nothing but the evening cicadas answered, I drank the rest of the sludge in the third cup and held out my hand for the fourth.

  “Sounds like there's the story behind that statement,” I dared. Nothing but cicadas chirped. “How about you give me a memory in trade for cup number four?”

  “No deal. You don't have a choice about drinking that. But I have a choice about giving you any details about myself. It's better that way. Trust me. You already said you did,” he added in a quieter tone.

  “I did.” The truth surprised me. “But if you give me a little more of yourself, that trust will solidify and grow. As far as I've been able to observe, you’re a wolf shifter without a pack, living in a small country town that has specific protections for those in the magical community. So I don't believe you chose Honeysuckle randomly. You are handy with your tools. And that's about all I know.” I skipped the part about him being a huge support to me. Not a Prince Charming. Maybe more like a superhero.

  “So you've been observing me, have you?” The corner of his mouth crooked up despite his attempt to stay serious.

  I rolled my eyes. “Don't take it as a compliment, Mr. Channing. Goss is right. In a small town, there really are no secrets. Not for long anyway.”

  “And when it gets to that point, what if my secrets are scary?”

  “Scary is in the eye of the beholder, Dash. Don't you know by now that you're stronger in numbers rather than alone?”

  He gestured his finger back and forth. “Between the two of us, Ms. Goodwin, which one understands the concept of a pack more?”

  “Touché.” I stopped my nagging and enjoyed the buzz of the cicadas and the rustle of leaves and Spanish moss.

  After a minute, Dash spoke in a faraway tone. “I didn't use to be alone. I had a family. Well, technically, they may still be alive. But I don't know what's happened to them.”

  Instead of drilling him with the multiple questions that popped into my head, I waited patiently. My silence paid off, and he c
ontinued.

  “I can't tell you everything. Pack rules. But I can tell you that sometimes, families can be the best things in the world. And sometimes, they can be your downfall.”

  After a few quiet moments, I spoke. “Have you met my Aunt Nora?”

  A low chuckle rumbled in his chest and turned into real laughter. “Touché, yourself.”

  “So what you're saying is that after some things have happened to you, you chose to come to Honeysuckle Hollow in order to build a life, find peace, and maybe be able to live with yourself?”

  Dash lifted his eyebrows. “Pretty much.”

  “See, Mr. Channing? You and I have more in common than you thought.” I paused, considering my next move carefully. “You know why Nana’s making me drink this nasty stuff?” I guessed that she had told him something since she’d been the one to send him to me.

  He rocked in his chair, not answering but waiting for me to continue.

  “When I found Tipper, I guess I picked up a death curse. So, she’s trying to slow down its effects.” If that didn’t show Dash how much I trusted him in that moment, I didn’t know what would.

  With genuine compassion in his eyes, he nodded. “I know.”

  “Nana told you?”

  He shook his head. “I could smell it on you that morning you brought me sweet tea on this here porch.”

  I stared at him. “You’ve known all this time and kept it to yourself? It’s pretty juicy stuff that could be good currency in a small town that thrives on gossip.”

  His eyes captured mine with that smoldering amber glow. “Not their business. Nor my place to tell.”

  Butterflies took wings in my stomach, and a warm mushy feeling oozed through my veins. The screen door crashed, breaking the mood, and my grandmother stood in front of me with yet another glass.