by Ward, Alice
“You should check Cre-A-Tiv, down the street. It’s sort of a catchall for the arts, painting and photography and theater, and they’ve got a decent costume section. They might have a replica that’ll suit you.” She was listening closely, but I wasn’t sure if it was because she was hard of hearing or because she was trying to memorize every word I said. “They’re going out of business soon, so there are some excellent deals.”
“Oh, thank you, dear.” A broad smile bloomed over her made-up mouth, and she pressed her free hand to my forearm gratefully. “It’s nice to meet someone who will refer a customer somewhere else instead of just trying to make a sale.”
“We’re a community here. I support my fellow business owners.” I tried to keep the note of resentment out of my voice, the one that would’ve given away how bitter I was over Pennington’s bullying my beloved fellow business owners into turning in their keys.
She beamed. “How nice.” Her daughter joined us with a box of tarot cards in hand. My mental radar started beeping rapidly as my gaze zeroed in on the deck. I didn’t want to assume, but I couldn’t let her buy them to use as a prop, especially if she planned to lay out a spread for aesthetics. The older woman turned to the younger with the crystal held aloft. “I’m going to put this back.”
“I’ll take it,” I volunteered hastily. I then nodded toward the tarot cards. “Is that for the party as well?”
“Yes! I think it will be a unique centerpiece for the snack table.” The daughter smiled with pride for her brilliant idea as I stopped myself from visibly cringing.
Without waiting for her input, I took the deck from her hands. She stared at me in surprise, but I maintained a cheerful demeanor as I explained. “I was just telling your mother about Cre-A-Tiv down the street. They’re going out of business, and I know you’d be able to find a few props for your party at a quarter of the price.”
I probably could have told her the repercussions of idly playing with tarot cards, but if she was the nonbeliever I suspected her to be, she would have brushed me off and bought them anyway. It wasn’t in my nature to sell someone something knowing it would bring them harm, money be damned.
“Oh, great!” She linked her arm through her mother’s and looked down at the hunched woman. “Should we go, then?”
“Sure.” The elderly woman gave me a gentle smile. “Thank you for your time, dearie.”
“Of course. Thanks for coming in.” I followed them to the door and waved goodbye before heading behind the counter. The chimes jingled as the pair departed, and I turned my back to the door to drop the quartz ball into a wicker basket of other stones and crystals beneath the display case. It was where I put everything that needed to be spiritually cleansed after being fondled by customers, and it was getting full. People were touchers in my shop.
When I straightened up to replace the tarot deck in its original spot, I started. The mother-daughter couple had been the last customers in Auras, and I’d distinctly heard the door when they’d left, but there was someone else inside now who I hadn’t heard enter.
And, god, was he attractive.
Thick, dark hair the color of rich hot chocolate dressed the top of a square hairline, which gave way to dramatic brows that cast shadows onto the midnight eyes beneath. His skin was the kind of peach only people who spent a lot of time indoors could claim, but there was a slight tinge of bronze in the tone to hint at occasional outdoor activity.
The severity of his cheekbones and jawline gave me the impression he was a sharp person who commanded respect, and he had the carved chin of an aristocrat. He stood a solid half-foot taller than me, probably measuring somewhere about six feet, and his frame was visibly toned and maintained despite being covered with a trim suit that probably cost more than everything in my store combined.
“Hello. Welcome to Auras.” It was my standard greeting for any customer, but I couldn’t stop staring at him as if I’d been mesmerized. He was pulsing red, bright at the edges and darker at his core. Aura reading was a gift I’d been blessed with from my earliest memories, but I tended to ignore it when dealing with casual shoppers. It was impossible to ignore his. He was absolutely bathed in it.
“Is this the metaphysical store?”
My antenna immediately went up. I knew this man, somehow, some way. His accent was thick and drawling, and the way he said “metaphysical” sounded like the word didn’t belong on his tongue. I was certain he wasn’t from the area and surely hadn’t stepped foot in Auras before, but I knew him.
“Yes.” I kept my eyes pinned on him, but my gaze was unfocused and misty as I took in the sight of his aura rather than his physical body. Tiny black specks filtered in and out of view, darting from his middle to the outer boundaries and back in again, like they were trying to escape him but couldn’t get past an electric fence. “Can I help you find something?”
“I’m just looking.” He offered me a slight smile that bordered more on the side of a smirk rather than a genuine gesture of friendliness.
The soles of his leather loafers made dull thuds on the original hardwood floor as he began slowly strolling the perimeter of the shop. I stood in place behind the counter, absently trading the box of tarot cards from one hand to the other as I studied him.
Occasionally, he picked something up, looked it over, and put it back down again with a look of mild amusement. There was something offensive about the way he behaved, but nothing outright rude, so I didn’t comment. Abby scampered out of his way, casting me a confused look as he rounded the back wall. I gave her a nearly imperceptible shrug.
“What is this for?” He’d chosen a small singing bowl and held it up for me to see.
“It’s a Tibetan singing bowl. I use one for meditation.” Before I’d even finished speaking, he had already set it down and started walking again. That was definitely rude.
The climate in the shop, already thick with unseasonable humidity, was suffocating me in dense tension. I had an irrational desire to ask the man to leave, despite having no solid reason to do so. He wasn’t grungy or disheveled, nor did he have the detached expression of someone missing a couple screws, but his straight-backed examination of my shop and sinfully good looks had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. My discomfort was only heightened when he met my eyes for a second time, and I felt the zing of chemistry between us.
“And this?” He twisted a narrow quartz wand between his fingers. “What would you do with this?”
“A number of things. It depends on what you’re seeking to achieve.”
Again, he placed the wand back amongst its peers in the middle of my explanation, and I felt irritated prickles behind my ears. Suspicion was starting to grow in my gut about his identity because, even during the height of the summer when Fawn was barraged by hundreds of thousands of vacationers, people like this didn’t come into my store and look around like they were casing the place. Nothing about him indicated he was a thief, but everything about him indicated something was amiss.
But what?
He’d made his way around the entire shop and returned back to the counter. With a well-manicured forefinger, he pointed at the tarot deck in my hands that I still hadn’t put back in its rightful place. “How about those?”
“Tarot cards.” I banged the flat bottom of the box on the countertop with unnecessary force, trying to send him the unspoken message that I knew something was up. “A divining tool.”
His hooded brow crinkled. “Divining?”
“Fortune-telling, in layman’s terms.”
“Ah.” He hooked both hands into the pockets of his fitted trousers and twisted his neck toward the street-facing windows. I said nothing, instead allowing an awkward silence to take the place of the forced small talk. He jutted his chin toward the door. “I think you’re the only store still in business on this block, darlin’.”
BAM.
Like an eighteen-wheeler screaming down the interstate, the man’s mysterious identity slammed into my conscious
ness, and I was almost thrown backward a step by the weight of it.
This was Cash freaking Pennington, CEO and arrogant prick.
My gut reaction was to demand he get out of my store, but I had a moment to collect myself in the time he spent looking out the window. He obviously knew who I was, but he didn’t yet know I knew who he was. That could work to my advantage. Just throwing him out wouldn’t solve this problem of Pennington’s on my back. I had to get inventive.
Tapping the deck of cards on the counter again, I drew his attention back to me. “Yeah, it’s really sad, actually. This was a fantastic street in a fantastic town. Quiet and quaint. Neighborly, you know?” I shook my head, feigning uncertain sorrow for the fate of my hometown. “I’m not sure how long I’ll last here now, since tourist interest in the area will surely drop.”
“That’s a shame.” He didn’t sound sympathetic in the slightest, but his acting was good enough to at least wipe the smirk from his mouth.
“I guess my future is pretty uncertain at the moment.” I tapped the cards for the third time, then held them at his eye-level. “Yours doesn’t have to be, though. How about a reading, free of charge? It’s a little dull around here when it’s this slow.”
His chocolatey brows lifted a mere fraction, and I could see dubiousness scrawled across his Adonis features. “I don’t really buy into that stuff, darlin’.”
“For fun, then.” I popped the lip open on the box and tilted the cards into my hand, already shuffling even though he seemed hesitant to agree. His stare flitted between the blur of cards and my face, and I wondered if he was trying to read me the way I had him earlier. When I smoothed the deck into a neat pile and placed it on the countertop, looking up at him with a waiting smile, he shrugged.
“All right. For fun.”
“Good.” I slid the deck toward him. “Cut.”
He picked up the deck around the one-quarter mark, which was typical of nonbelievers. They seemed to think I was one of those sleight-of-hand magicians banking on them cutting an even half in order to perform a successful trick. I shoved his selected portion to the base of the pile, then flipped the top card over.
“Your past card, Three of Cups.” He leaned closer to look at the card properly, and I caught a whiff of woodsy cologne. “Your life was, at one point, one big party. You were ‘living in the moment,’ so to speak. Friends came easily to you, maybe dating as well, and you found success in the things you deemed worthy enough to pursue.”
I didn’t look up at him for confirmation, mainly because I never did in the interest of reading the cards honestly and without bias, but also because my fingers were starting to tingle being so close to him.
Our faces were mere inches apart, and he smelled so enticing that I desperately wanted to kiss him and find out if he tasted as delicious. But I had to keep reminding myself this was the jerk who was determined to make me give up my business so he could plunk a crappy, mass-market superstore down in its place.
“That’s pretty accurate.” Being taller than I was, his voice came from above me by a short space. The scent of peppermint mingled with his cologne. “Is the next card my present?”
Nodding, I turned over the next card and placed it beside the first. “Ten of Cups, reversed.”
“Reversed?” I accidentally glanced up, startled by the sharpness in his voice. “That’s not some satanic crap, is it?”
“What are you talking about?”
He gave me a hard look. “I don’t know. Isn’t Satanism a bunch of reversed symbols, like the cross and the pentagram?”
The urge to roll my eyes was too strong to overpower, but I hid it from him by resuming my intent focus on the spread. “The tarot is hardly satanic. A reversed card is just a different meaning from upright.”
“Oh.” I was pleased to hear a note of embarrassment in his voice, though it irritated me that he was able to still sound debilitatingly sexy even when he was embarrassed. “So, what does this one mean, then?”
“A reversed Ten of Cups represents unbalance, particularly of a domestic nature. This tells me you are currently dealing with — or are about to deal with — an upset in your home life or your family, as well as inside yourself regarding values and priorities.”
He didn’t speak this time, but the surprise radiating from him was palpable. I got the distinct feeling the cards were being truthful with him, and he was unsure if it was mere coincidence or if there was something unseen at work. I wasn’t about to waste my breath convincing him of the latter. He would learn on his own.
When I flipped the final card, my heart leaped into my throat, and I didn’t say anything for a long second. He leaned farther over the counter to look more closely at the card and tapped his fingers impatiently on the glass. “Well?”
“The Lovers.” My thighs were suddenly on fire, and I felt as pulled to the card as I would have if I’d been reading for myself. “Your future is The Lovers.”
He emitted a low growl from the base of his throat, and I felt dark eyes boring into me. A shiver raced down my spine. I rolled my tongue, then flattened it, trying to stretch it into working. I was sure I would moan instead of speak if I opened my mouth, and I had completely forgotten Abby was still in the store. It was as if the room was just a tiny little box with nothing but the counter, the cards, Cash, and me.
I couldn’t have been more disgusted with myself, yet I felt more sexually alive than I ever had before.
“What does that mean?”
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. This card wasn’t just his. It was for me, too, because my physical response was a drop in the bucket compared to the psychic draw I was experiencing.
Opening my eyes again, I forced myself to perform a split-second meditation and clear my brain. “Its obvious meaning, love, is certainly relevant. You will meet with love, probably in the form of a deep and spiritual relationship. This card also is an antonym to the last, in a sense. It indicates the realignment of the values and priorities you currently have misplaced.”
“That’s all in my future?”
“Yes.” I raised my eyes to his. He was watching me intently, studying me down to the slight movement of my jaw as I answered. “Of course, the future is fickle. Your course can change, or you can change it yourself. This reading represents what is to come if all remains on track.”
His torso dropped toward the counter a bit, and his face grew even closer to mine. I could see every line on his lips now, every pore on his face, and I realized he was probably in his early to mid-thirties rather than his late twenties like I’d assumed when he first walked in. Still, he was impeccable whether from a distance or at close range, and butterflies burst from their cocoons to swarm throughout my stomach.
“So, what does all this mean?” He spoke in a sultry murmur, and the formations his lips made as he talked were like tiny gestures encouraging me to kiss him. I wasn’t breathing or blinking. His mouth curled up into a smirk again, and I recognized the cocky bastard beneath the suave Casanova. Like a firecracker exploding into the sky, I was jerked back into my wits.
Straightening up, I let out my held breath in a rush of wind and waved a hand over the spread in a dramatic mystical fashion. “This? All together?” I beamed, showing him my teeth and making sure to wrinkle my eyes at the edges to sell the act. “It has a very clear message, very strong, and it’s something you absolutely need to understand.”
He crooked his head curiously.
I cupped both hands around my mouth and eased toward him over the counter as if to impart a grave secret. He waited, tilting in my direction.
In a loud, booming voice accented by the bravado of my impromptu megaphone, I shouted, “I’M NOT SELLING.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Cash
Her volume and the echo that accompanied it made my eardrum sear with pain, and I jumped back from the beauty that had morphed into a raging beast before my eyes.
She lowered her hands, glowering at me with forest eyes. I
glared back as my groin started to swell. This was certainly not the smiling, peaceful woman in the website picture, but the confident and unyielding creature before me turned me on to no end.
What the hell was wrong with me?
“When did you figure out who I am?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, which looked fuller in person beneath her beaded teal top. “I had a feeling it was you when you first came in.” Her lips looked sweet, a contradiction to her biting tone. “I knew for sure when you mentioned the other stores.”
“Good sleuthing, Nancy Drew.” I grinned. She didn’t return it.
I was completely at odds with myself over the eccentric Gretchen Laughlin. Getting the deal done was the reason I’d come, but I felt more inclined to linger and flirt with her than I did to convince her to sell me her livelihood.
She was such an anomaly in my world. I’d long regarded psychics and fortune-tellers as crazy at best and false-hope frauds at worst, and maybe Gretchen was one or both of those things, but the way she looked at me with unwavering fearlessness and a complete absence of awe was a first for me. I liked it. She presented me a living, breathing challenge I was eager to conquer. And those eyes were just so big and magnetic.
“Well, now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way—”
“You can leave.” She was firm, arms still crossed. Her employee or assistant or whatever the mousy girl was hovered in the corner nearest us, watching the exchange with a clipboard clutched to her chest. Gretchen turned away from me, evidently deciding to ignore me now that she’d verbally ousted me from her space, and addressed the gaping girl. “Can you finish putting the yoga mats up?”
The employee nodded and darted out of sight behind a towering shelving unit full of every incense imaginable. I didn’t move. “Just so you’re aware, I’ve taken a room for an indefinite amount of time at the Frog Hotel, or whatever it’s called.”
“The Bullfrog Bay Bed & Breakfast,” she corrected icily. Apparently, the sense of community ran deep in these parts.
