by Jane Hinchey
“Thanks,” I said gruffly, stepping back and putting some space between us.
“Anytime. Anytime at all.” That wolfish grin was back, and my heart skipped a beat. Then Jackson caught my attention or, more precisely, the dark scowl on his face. Now what? Had he and Liliana had words again? I couldn’t sense as much tension between them this morning, but that was most likely due to the overwhelming presence of Blake Tennant and the effect he had on my senses.
Blake turned back to the counter and pushed the paperwork toward Jackson.
“Signed, sealed, and delivered.”
“Officer Miles, would you bring Mrs. Brewer through, please?” Jackson initialed the paperwork while Liliana spun on her heel without replying and disappeared down the corridor. “Take a seat,” Jackson said curtly. I frowned at him. What’s up his butt?
Blake cupped my elbow and guided me toward the chairs lining one wall. I sank down, my head fuzzy. I really needed a caffeine hit—I couldn’t think straight, I felt as if I were sleepwalking.
“Rough night?” Blake asked, taking the seat next to me, the length of his denim-clad thigh heating mine where it touched.
“Slept in the chair,” I grumbled, frowning when he chuckled. It wasn’t funny. None of this was funny.
“Hey.” He wrapped one big hand over mine where it rested on my knee and I marveled at the contrast in our skin tone, his tanned to a smooth mocha, mine as pale as snow. “Everything’s going to be okay.” He mistook my sleep-deprived, caffeine-deprived, state for concern over Gran.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done.” I forced a smile. It was my turn to reassure him. And I was grateful. If he hadn’t turned up, Gran would still be rotting in a cell.
“I knew it.” He studied my face, his eyes intent, his own lips soft and curling slightly at the corners.
“What?” He was so confusing I couldn’t keep up.
“That your smile would transform you.”
Oh. Said smile slipped. I didn’t know what to make of his words. Was he coming on to me? Was that ethical? But technically, his client was Gran, not me, so did that mean…but what about Jackson? My eyes shot to the man in question, watching us with a scowl on his face from behind the counter. For months, I’d fantasized over him, out of reach because he was with another woman. Could I have switched affection so quickly, so easily? It made me uncomfortable to think I could. I wasn’t even sure that was what was going on here.
Blake chuckled. “Your face is an open book,” he said. “You might want to work on that.”
Before I could reply, Gran waltzed around the corner, a massive smile on her face.
“Oh hi, Jackson.” She beamed at him. “Thanks for a wonderful night.” She punctuated her words with a wink. “Sorry to take him away from you, darl,” she added to Liliana, who stood with her arms crossed and her mouth pulled together in the perfect imitation of a cat’s rear end. I giggled. She glared at me, her mouth puckering even tighter, if that was possible, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud.
Gran was still in her party gear from the night before, the sequins catching the fluorescent lights and sending patterns dancing across the walls and floor.
“And you must be my knight in shining armor.” She sashayed up to Blake who’d stood at her arrival, wrapped her arms around his waist, and hugged him. Tightly. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, ma’am,” he drawled, not in the least bit uncomfortable with the eighty-year-old sex bomb plastered to his front and her hand sneaking down to cup one cheek and squeeze. She turned her head and grinned at me. “He works out,” she told me. “Buns of steel.”
Oh god. My cheeks burned but Blake took it in stride, disengaging himself from her but keeping a hand at her back. “Need your signature on a few things, Alice, then we can blow this joint.”
“Promises, promises,” she declared dramatically but went with him to the counter where Liliana was pushing a sheet of paper and pen toward them.
“Harper.” Jackson had rounded the counter and was now easing himself into the seat Blake had just vacated.
“What?” Okay, I was unreasonably surly without my morning coffee. He should know this by now and cut me some slack.
“I had to do it. There was a warrant.”
I lifted one shoulder. So there was a warrant, so what?
“You’d rather someone else do it. You rather Liliana?” he pressed, and I snapped my head round to look at him so fast I feared whiplash.
“You. Arrested. My. Gran.” My voice was soft and calm and deadly. He swallowed, leaning back, away from me. I felt a little thrill of power.
“I let you help me with the investigation, didn’t I?”
Damn it, he was being reasonable. Yes. He’d let me poke around Bonnie’s house last night and had helped me try and contact her. That didn’t mean I wasn’t still mad at him.
Gran and Blake had finished at the counter and Gran came bouncing over—I assumed they’d provided her with coffee in her cell. That was the only explanation I could come up with for her perky early morning mood.
“Thanks for a great night, handsome.” She planted a kiss on Jackson’s cheek and again, he blushed, tipping his head at her.
“Take care,” he said gruffly, disengaging from her and hurrying away without a backward glance, leaving me more confused than ever.
“Jesus.” Gran stood with her hands on her hips and examined me. “You look like shit. Let’s go get breakfast.”
We sat in Bean Me Up. I hadn’t expected Blake to join us, but he’d followed me and Gran in his rental car and was now ensconced at our cozy window table.
“You move fast,” Gran told him, studying him intently as he stirred sugar into his coffee.
He shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
“She’s got a point,” I said. “Dad called you last night and you were here, what, an hour or two later? It’s at least a four-hour drive from East Dondure.”
“Who said I drove?” Of course. I wanted to smack my forehead on the table. He must have flown in, although it would have had to have been a charter flight. No commercials flights were available after sundown in Whitefall Cove.
“Open book,” he said under his breath, his eyes twinkling. “That your store?” He nodded toward The Dusty Attic, directly across the road from where we were sitting.
I smiled softly, looking at my bookstore through the window. “It is.”
“Wendy open up for you today?” Gran asked, bringing my attention back to her.
I nodded again. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure how long all this would take, or where we go from here, so Wendy is holding down the fort for now.” Which reminded me. “So what happens now?” I directed the question to Blake.
“Now you go about your business. You”—he inclined his head at Gran—“stay out of trouble. And don’t leave town. And you”—this time, his head came my way—“no more amateur detective work. Leave this to the professionals.”
“Hey!” I protested. “I’m no amateur. I solved Whitney Sims’ murder.”
“That does not make you a detective. Look at it this way. We are all agreed that your Gran didn’t kill Bonnie Emerson, right?” We nodded. “Which means the murderer is still out there. Knocking off witches. You two are witches, and you, Harper, have a habit of sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong. Stay out of it.”
Crap, he had a point. Bonnie’s death had not been accidental. It had been violent, and I shuddered at the memory. “How did you know I’d been…investigating?” I demanded, finding it incredibly difficult to accept being told what to do.
“It’s my job.” His reply was as enigmatic as his face, revealing nothing.
“You’re a lawyer, not a cop,” I pointed out, but the sly grin sliding across his face told me there was more to him than that. “How do you know Dad anyway?” I decided to tackle the mystery that was Blake Tennant from another angle.
“Your dad and I go way back.” He leaned back in his chai
r, idly turning his cup between his fingers.
“Where did you meet?”
“At a job.”
“He was a client?” I pressed.
“Come on, Harper, you know I can’t reveal that.” Oh right—client confidentiality and all that crap. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. Gran had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout our exchange but now she piped up with, “You married?”
“Gran!”
“What?” she protested. “It’s a fair question. No point you being all googly-eyed over him if he’s taken.” Once more, a blush heated my face and I feared this was my go-to reaction around him—red-faced.
“No ma’am, I am not.” Blake’s grin was wolfish and when he winked at me, I nearly self-combusted.
“Excellent news.” Gran beamed at him. “You’ll do nicely for our Harper here. She’s been a bit…unlucky…in the love department.”
“Oh my god, Gran, shut up!” I had never felt more embarrassed in my life.
“Is that right?” He was enjoying this. I had the urge to hit him, curling my fingers into fists in preparation.
“Her loser fiancé in East Dondure was cheating on her. Took her long enough to see the real him, I have to tell you,” she grumbled. “Then she’s been mooning over Jackson, knowing full well he has a girlfriend.”
I shot to my feet, my humiliation complete. To think, mere minutes ago, I’d been celebrating that Gran was out of jail. Now I wish she were locked away in that cell, far away from Blake Tennant, where she couldn’t blab about my entire life history. I didn’t know what to do or say. I could see the speculative gleam in Blake’s eyes and the cunning glint in Gran’s, and I’d had enough.
Without a word, I stalked out of the café and across the road to The Dusty Attic, vowing to never speak to either of them again.
Chapter Six
Fire licked at the sky, orange tendrils dancing and swaying in the evening breeze. It was our coven’s blessing ceremony and I’d had to relax my stance on not talking to Gran. Who was I kidding? As soon as she’d pranced into the store an hour later, talking a mile a minute about her adventures in jail, I’d given in. Who could stay mad at her? And I knew she meant well, it’s just…did she have to be so damn embarrassing about it?
Standing in a circle, hands clasped, the moonlight shining down on us, I let my gaze linger on my coven sisters. To my left were the oldies—Gran, then Annie, and Agnes. To my right, the younger crowd—Jennifer, and Leah, the youngest of our coven at twenty-six.
Annie led the ceremony, calling to the power of the earth, air, fire, and water, binding us in the circle. Then she led a prayer, asking for a blessing from the Goddess for Gran, not only for the trouble she was currently in, but to bring her success at the Decadent Desserts competition. Thankfully, our ceremonies were mercifully brief. Annie was of the belief that the Goddess was plenty busy enough that we didn’t have to call on her for hours on end, boring her with our tales of woe.
“Your Gran wasn’t lying when she said you were powerful.” Annie approached me after the ceremony was over. The witches had other things on their mind, like drinking wine and dancing around the fire now that the formalities were out of the way.
I inclined my head. “Thank you.” I was getting used to my magic, and of the idea that I was stronger than any witch in our coven. None of them could do magic empty-handed, they required a wand to channel and amplify their power.
“Your grandmother tells me an equally powerful fae is in town,” Annie continued, watching me carefully.
“A fae? Who?” This was the first I’d heard of it.
“You’ve met him, I believe.”
She had to be talking about Blake Tennant. Yet I hadn’t known he was fae. Why was that?
“Ahhh.” Annie nodded. “You didn’t know? He must have been masking it. I’m sure Drixworths will teach you how to mask your magic too—it can come in handy.”
“How did Gran know?”
“She asked him.” I blinked at that. So, Gran had outright asked him if he was a paranormal and he’d told her? I couldn’t even get him to tell me how he knew my dad.
“She could sense he was a paranormal but not his species. You know Alice, she has a way of getting you to spill all your secrets.” Annie grinned and I smiled half-heartedly in return. It was true, Gran had a special charm all her own all right.
“Powerful, you said?”
“Only a certain few can mask their power like that.”
“And I’m one of them?” I kicked at the dirt, making a mental note to ask Izzy the next time I saw her.
“You and he together could be—”
“Annie, get over here!” Gran yelled, interrupting us before Annie could finish her sentence. Annie touched my arm. “We’ll talk later.” Then she was gone, joining Gran and Agnes as they poured wine into Dixie cups.
Sighing, I turned my back, pulling my coat tighter to my neck. The days were getting warmer, but the temperature plummeted when the sun went down, and my breath was puffing in white clouds in front of my face.
“Here.” Leah Griffith, the youngest member of our coven, shoved a hip flask into my hand. “You look like you need it.”
“Thanks.” Lifting the flask to my lips, I took a gulp, the rum burning my throat and warming me. I held it out to Jennifer.
“Your Gran seems to be holding up okay,” Jennifer said, as the three of us sat huddled on a log, our backs to the merriment going on behind us.
“She is amazing,” I agreed. “I know she and Bonnie had their differences, but she didn’t kill her. Which reminds me”—I leaned in close—“do either of you know if Bonnie was seeing anyone? Romantically, I mean.”
“I heard rumors that she was dating Vernon Garza, but they’d broken up,” Leah said, and I snapped my head to look at her in the darkness.
“Really?”
She shrugged. “Oh yeah, this was before you moved home. Turns out, Vernon was dating both Bonnie and Bernice…and Bonnie found out about it and wasn’t happy.”
“Bernice? As in, Bernice Kemp?” Bernice was another member of the Crescent Coven. I imagine it wouldn’t have gone well that two members of the coven were dating the same man.
Leah nodded. “Yep. I think Vernon and Bernice may still be dating, I’m not sure.”
Jennifer piped up, “I saw them having coffee together at Bean Me Up last week.”
Meow! Archie stood on his hind legs and stretched up my leg, clawing at me.
“Ready to go, buddy?” I asked, reaching down to scratch his ears. I refused to turn around to address the witches dancing around the fire, knowing full well by now, they would be naked. I’d only made that mistake once, and the memory was burned in my brain.
“Gran?” I called. “You staying here tonight?”
“Sure am, doll.” Silence, then a giggle. I will not look, I will not look. “I’m taking Archie home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“We’ll see you at the ball tomorrow night, Harper,” Annie and Agnes chorused together.
“You will,” I agreed in way of farewell. “You two coming?” I asked Leah and Jennifer who were passing their flask back and forth. Seems I was the only witch not intent on getting plastered out of her brain tonight, but both women jumped up and followed me out of the woods behind Annie’s house.
After giving Leah and Jennifer a lift home, I headed back to Gran’s. It was early, only just nine o’clock, but I was exhausted. Still, there was packing to be done. Tomorrow, I collect the keys for my rental of the caretaker’s cottage up at the lighthouse. Although, as I stood in the kitchen, with packing tape and scissors in hand, I wondered if I should delay moving out? Gran needed me, and moving out now seemed a bit heartless.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to get some packing done—not that I had much. Most of what I’d left behind in East Dondure in the apartment I’d once shared with Simon had arrived in boxes that had barely survived the trip. I hadn’t contacted him to ask for my stuff, but it had a
rrived out of the blue early in the new year. When I opened a couple of the boxes, I’d cringed at the way my beloved belongings had been packed. Not so much as packed but shoved into a box with little regard for their welfare. There had been no note. Nothing.
I’d been tempted to call. A moment of weakness, of wanting to hear his voice, of knowing at that point in time—even if he was throwing my things into boxes willy nilly—he’d been thinking of me. I’d weathered that storm by giving my phone to Gran, with strict instructions not to return it to me until the following day. Then, Jenna and Monica had come over and we’d watched Hallmark movies and got shit-faced drunk. My lips twitched at the memory. It had been a good night—a great night even—despite the killer hangover the next day. I’d gotten through without contacting my cheating ex-fiancé.
Doubting the boxes my stuff had arrived in would survive another trip, I knew I needed to either repack or repair them. Either way, I’d be moving out at some point, even if it wasn’t tomorrow. May as well be prepared. Plus, it gave me something to do. As tired as I was, I also felt wired. Pretty sure if I headed up to bed now, I’d lay staring at the ceiling for hours on end.
I was in the kitchen searching for a sharpie to mark the boxes when I heard a noise outside the kitchen window. Pulling back the curtain, I peered out but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Archie streak past and then the sound of the cat door flapping as he shot through it.
“It had better not be that sneaky shapeshifter again!” Drixworths had sent one to spy on me when I’d first returned to Whitefall Cove, only the shifter had been a mouse and Archie kept catching him. He should be grateful he’d escaped any serious injury—he could have ended up inside Archie’s belly.
What if it isn’t the mouse shifter though? Refusing to cower inside, afraid of every little noise, I snatched up a saucepan as a weapon and made my way to the back door, flipping the catch and easing the door open.
