by Amy Cissell
“Huh,” Sandy said. “But have any of you ever seen a god or an angel or a demon?”
“I’m telling you, Harris was no mere mortal.”
“I believe you,” Sandy assured him. “I’m curious about the others.”
Drew gave her a suspicious look but lapsed into silence.
“No,” Ceri admitted. “But like I said, I’ve not lived here that long.”
“We’ve all seen Andy,” Misty pointed out. “Not knowing who—or what—he is doesn’t negate the fact that we all know he’s other. There’s something about him that just…” she shivered. “There’s power there that he keeps very firmly in check. We’ll need more than a couple psychics to save the town if he ever decides to unleash it. And besides him, just wait. There will be people who pop into town for a few days or a few weeks, and you won’t quite know what to believe…those are the ones that are something else.”
“Why do they come?” Sandy asked.
“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Misty replied. “Are they here because we still believe in them and it gives them a boost? Does the mystical energy of the Bay draw them like moths to a flame? Or is it the pun-tastic names, great scenery, and even better locals that make our town worth a visit?”
“So, to sum up: other than Drew, who had a torrid, but short-lived affair with some kind of sex god, none of you have had a verifiable encounter with anything supernatural.”
“That is correct,” Ceri said. “Although I think Morgana and Paska have. They’ve lived here longer and keep hinting that ‘the fifty-year convention’ is coming soon as if that’s supposed to mean something to us.”
“The fifty-year convention of what? Or who? And how would they know?”
“A lot of us are older than we look,” Drew said. “And I suspect Morgana and Paska are older than the rest of us put together.”
“How old are you?”
“That’s not a very polite question,” Drew chided.
“In addition to the city ordinance requiring all businesses to have a pun in their name, is there another that ensures no one can ever give a straight answer?” Sandy felt her temper heating up and took a sip of her drink to cool it off.
“It’s more like…too much information at once will lead to a circuit overload,” Misty said. “You’re already straddling the line between belief and disbelief. We want to give you some time to accept what you’ve learned tonight before laying anything else on you.
“Fine. I guess that’s fair,” she conceded begrudgingly. “But I will get straight answers from you all eventually.”
“Well, not from Morgana,” Ceri said. “None of us have ever gotten a straight answer from her.”
Sandy sat at her small kitchen table waiting for her tea to steep. It was too early in the morning to be awake, but after a fitful night of bizarre dreams starring faceless, winged men swooping down to torment her, she’d finally given up and decided to caffeinate up so she could open early and hopefully make up for a little of the business she’d missed the day before when she’d driven to Portland.
After drinking her tea and burning her tongue, she stretched and rubbed her eyes, trying to will the caffeine to work faster.
“This isn’t working,” she said. “It’s time to pull out the big guns.” She grabbed a jacket and dashed out the back door. Fifteen seconds later, she dashed back in, grabbed her umbrella, and headed back out into the light, steady rain that had finally arrived on the Washington coast.
The walk to Caffiend Dreams usually took ten minutes, but with the extra motivation of an early-morning cold rain, she made it in five. Bill was just unlocking the door when she arrived, and once she was inside and out of the weather, Sandy glanced at her watch, surprised to see that it was just six-thirty. She’d woken up even earlier than she’d thought.
“You’re up early,” Bill observed, walking back around the counter. “What can I get for you?”
“Quad shot Americano with room,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re here early.”
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” she confessed. “And my morning cup of tea didn’t cut it.”
“Can I get you anything else?” he asked as he started the process of pulling the espresso. “Everything in the display cases is fresh this morning.”
She pursed her lips and perused the offerings. “I would really like one of those cinnamon rolls,” she said. “It looks divine.”
“Not a problem. Are you going to eat here, or do you want it to go?”
Sandy looked outside where the rain was beginning to come down in sheets, obscuring even the faintest hints of light in the pre-dawn sky. “I think I’ll sit for a while,” she said. “No one will be up and about waiting for a tarot reading this early, especially not in this rain.”
“Go, sit. I’ll bring everything over to you in a couple minutes.”
Sandy claimed the table furthest from the door and sat facing the window. Soon, it’d be light enough to see the ocean—if the rain let up. She pulled her Kindle out of her purse, queued up the next book in the contemporary romance series she was reading, and tried to relax. The steady drumming of rain on the roof and the distant crash of waves hitting the shore did what two glasses of prosecco and a cup of chamomile tea had failed to do last night, and she felt her muscles relaxing as her breathing deepened. The tension in her neck that she hadn’t even noticed until it started releasing caused her to sigh in relief. The large cup of coffee and even larger cinnamon roll, both steaming, finished the job.
She smiled at Bill. “I feel about a million times better than I did even a half hour ago. Thank you.”
“There’s little in life that good coffee and good food can’t fix,” he said. He placed a small pitcher of cream on the table. “Let me know what else you need.”
“I will.” She was grateful that he wasn’t insisting on small talk. She didn’t know if it was this town in particular, or if she’d always had a misconception about small towns in general, but the people here really knew how to mind their own business.
After doctoring the Americano to her liking, she took a long sip. It was perfect. She wasn’t much of a coffee-shop drink person, at least not before she’d moved to Oracle Bay, but she knew a good cup when she found one. After savoring a few more sips, she turned her attention to the cinnamon roll. It was enormous, slathered in cream cheese frosting, and was oozing butter. Bill had brought her a fork to go with it, but after careful consideration, she picked the whole thing up and took as big a bite as she could. Butter ran down her chin, and she swiped at it with her napkin before it could drip onto her shirt. She moaned in satisfaction. As soon as she swallowed, she turned to Bill.
“This is amazing. You are made of magic. I want to marry this cinnamon roll and have its tiny cinnamon roll babies.”
Bill laughed. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I wouldn’t recommend tying the knot, though. It gets so awkward when you have to explain why you ate your new husband.”
“Fine,” Sandy said. “You’re right. I’ll have a brief but torrid affair, instead. A series of one-morning stands with most of your bakery items sounds like the way to truly live.”
“I’ll let them know that they’re going to be sought out and used mercilessly by the attractive psychic down the street. I’m sure the sticky buns will be first to volunteer as tribute.”
Sandy smirked at him. “Oh, yeah. I’m definitely interested in the buns.”
Bill grinned. “I like you. You are a welcome addition to the town. I hope you’re planning to stay.”
Sandy’s smile faltered. She hadn’t given it much thought. “I don’t know. I’d like to, but it depends on a lot of different factors.”
“I didn’t mean to make you unhappy. We were having such fun! Can I get you another Americano?”
Sandy’s lips tilted up at the corners. “It’s okay. I do need to think about it sooner rather than later, and there’s no place I’d rather stay. Another coffee woul
d be great, but could I get a mocha this time?”
“Of course! Any more food?”
Sandy looked at the offerings again. “I really shouldn’t,” she said.
“You can take something to go for later…”
“You are an evil man, Bill.”
“I do my best.”
“I’ll take one of the sausage rolls. That looks like a great lunch.” Sausage and cheese wrapped in flaky pastry. It might be more like a mid-morning snack.
“They are good. The cheese is from Joseph’s goats, and the sausage is local as well. Have you met Natalie Dale yet?”
“I don’t think so. The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“If you haven’t yet, you will at the Bazaar. She has a small farm just outside of town. She raises a few pigs and more than a few chickens. Most of her business, however, is in charcuterie. She does sausage, bacon, salamis, and all sorts of cured meats. If you ever need sausage, she’ll hook you up.”
“I think I’m set for my sausage needs right now,” Sandy said.
“I heard you and Vincent were getting along pretty well.” Bill winked at her.
A wave of heat suffused Sandy’s skin. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Of course not,” Bill said. “Here’s your sausage. And your coffee.” Sandy paid, still blushing furiously, but unable to keep the grin off her face, and looked out into the lightening gloom. The rain was letting up, so although she’d get damp walking back, at least she—and her sausage—wouldn’t get drenched.
“Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sandy ran her fingers through her hair and took another bite of her sausage roll. Bill hadn’t been kidding. This was the best damn sausage she’d ever had in her mouth… “Damnit,” she whispered to herself. “I’m making myself blush now. Get it together, Cassandra. A little innuendo never hurt anyone.”
The front door screeching open jangled the bell and elicited a sigh. She’d put more WD-40 on the hinges this morning, but it continued to have zero effect, much like her daily cleaning routine. The shop was still grimy and loud. She set down the roll, wiped her mouth, and headed out to the main room to get back to work. Instead of a client, Vincent stood in the middle of the room, grinning at her.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded before rushing over to him. She skidded to a stop inches from his body, a wave of shyness overtaking her.
“No hug?” he asked. He voice was a couple registers deeper than usual; the gravelly tone tugged at something low in her abdomen.
Sandy tilted her head back to look at him. His eyes were dancing with mischief and no small amount of heat. “Just a hug?” she asked, catching her lower lip with her teeth and batting her eyelashes at him.
He reached out for her, slid his hands down her sides until they were resting on her hips, and pulled her into him. “I’ve been dreaming about doing this since I watched you drive away yesterday. I shouldn’t be here now—I have too much to do in Portland—but I couldn’t stop thinking about your lips.”
Sandy slipped her arms around his neck tangling her fingers in the curls brushing the top of his neck. “No need to dream about them anymore,” she purred. “I’m right here.” She pulled his head down as she reached up. Her lips lightly brushed his with only the barest hint of movement, and she backed off a bit before it could go any further.
He growled, pulled her roughly against him, and kissed her hard. She opened her mouth to his questing tongue and moaned softly when his tongue slid past lips. Vincent pulled away from her lips, and she moaned her disapproval. He chuckled throatily and trailed light kisses up her jawline to her neck.
“How long can you stay?” she asked. Her voice hitched as he caught her ear between his teeth and bit down lightly.
“Not long enough,” he whispered against the delicate skin of her throat before planting more light kisses on her neck. Hands slid around to graze the sides of her breasts and Sandy couldn’t contain another moan of longing.
“How long is ‘not long enough?’” She gave in to the urge she’d had since the first time he’d walked out of her shop and brushed her hand over his shapely butt.
“Anything less than forever.”
Sandy’s heart skipped a beat, and she pulled back from him to look him in the eye, leaving her hand where it was. “What now?”
Vincent flushed. “I didn’t mean to say that, but I refuse to take it back. I have every intention of being in this for the long haul. I told you I wasn’t good at casual.”
“There’s a long road between casual and forever,” Sandy said.
He took a step back, and she saw hurt flash through his eyes.
“No!” she said. “I’m not saying I’m against forever; I’m just saying I didn’t know that’s where you were going. It’s all new information to me now. I’m processing.”
“You’re babbling,” Vincent said. “However, I think the gist of it all is that you’re not rejecting me. At least not yet.”
“Not ever,” she said. “I like you. I drove all the way to Portland to kiss you.”
“And I drove all the way back to Oracle Bay the next day to kiss you.”
Sandy took the necessary steps to be back in his arms. “We’re going to have to figure out a different plan, or we’ll spend all our money on gas, just for a couple of kisses.”
“I was kind of hoping there’d be a bit more than kissing after a while.”
Sandy flushed to the roots of her hair and tried—unsuccessfully—to squelch the fantasies she’d had about that very subject. “I’ve no objection to moving in that direction,” she said, trying for an air of pomposity. She peeked at him from under her lashes and was pleased to see his lips curling up with amusement.
“Alas, that’s another thing I don’t have enough time for today,” he said. “I have a meeting with my lawyer in…” he glanced at his watch, “three hours. That’s barely enough time to get back to Portland.”
“You’re doing a five-hour round-trip drive for fifteen minutes of kissing?”
He looked at his watch again. “Let’s make that twenty minutes of kissing and a cup of coffee from Caffiend Dreams.”
Sandy wrapped her arms around his neck again and tilted her head up to meet his lips. This time, instead of a slow, gentle build, it was heat and passion. Something hit her back, and she realized that it was the back wall of her shop. She hooked one leg up over his hip and pulled him closer to her body, rocking her pelvis against his. Vincent’s hands were in her hair, and she moaned softly as he pulled back, exposing her neck to his mouth and teeth. He nipped slowly up her neck, and she wanted nothing more than to drag him up to her bedroom to explore the next steps.
“I have to go,” he murmured.
“I know. I don’t like it.”
“Me, neither. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I don’t want to be pushy or needy, but do you know when?”
“You can be as pushy as you want; I need you too much to say you’re being needy. I don’t know. I’ll call you tonight after I meet with my lawyer. He’s hopeful that with the new information we’ve provided, the whole case won’t even go to trial.”
“What do you think?”
“I’m less hopeful that I’ll be able to avoid trial. The repayment date is the day after tomorrow, at which time the company will formally press charges. We’ll provide them all the information we have, but I don’t know if they’ll have enough time to do their own investigation before the deadline. I’ll try to keep your name out of it, but…”
“Don’t. If I need to testify that I saw Aaron banging Samantha, I will. I can identify her, and I printed reams of their email and text conversations.”
“There will be questions about our involvement.”
“As long as we’re one hundred percent honest, I don’t see why that’s a problem. We may want to leave out the part where we solved the case using psychic powers.”
“I wasn
’t planning on bringing it up. They’ll find out about your job, though.”
“I’ll tell the truth. I found an empty storefront with a sign close enough to my name, and I had a deck of tarot cards left over from my college days bilking other students out of their pizza and beer money. I don’t have to say that I’m a true believer unless they ask.”
“You are an amazing woman.”
“I know,” she grinned impishly up at him.
“You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear how confident you are. But now, I really should go. I’m not even going to have time to get a coffee.”
“Go. I’ll call your coffee order in. If they have any left, get the sausage roll. So good.”
“Thank you. I’ll talk to you tonight.” He kissed her one last time, so sweetly that tears sprang to her eyes.
“I’ll miss you,” she said as he walked out of her shop.
He turned and looked back over his shoulder. “I’ll miss you more.”
The door groaned closed, and Sandy collapsed into the nearest chair. She needed a cold shower. Or at least the rest of her tea and sausage roll. She stood to head back to her kitchen when the front door creaked open again. “Madam Alexandra?”
Six hours later and Sandy felt more like a gibbering idiot than a mystical psychic. After Vincent’d left, it’d been a non-stop parade of customers. It was busier than a stormy weekday afternoon in November had any right to be.
She got up to turn off the sign and lock the door when it creaked open once again. She sighed to herself, plastered a smile on her face, and turned to greet her newest client. “How can I help you?” she asked.
“Are you still open?”
Sandy squinted at the man in the doorway. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite place him.”
“I am. You’ll be my last customer of the day. I’m going to go ahead and turn off my sign, so no one else gets their hopes up, and then we can get started.”
He stood uncertainly near the door, dripping enough to create a rather large puddle.
