by S R Mitchell
Copyright © 2016 S.R. Mitchell
Published by S.R. Mitchell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recoding, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or businesses, companies, events, institutions or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover Design: Flirtation Designs
Editor: Mitzi Carroll
Proofreader: Marisa Nichols
ISBN-13: 978 - 1541262102
ISBN-10: 1541262107
Also By
S.R. Mitchell
Stand Alone
Dark Rider
Highland Chance Series
Second Chance with a Highlander Book 1
Highland Chance Series Book 2
A Chance to Love a Highlander Book 3 (coming soon)
Author S.R. Mitchell
NEWSLETTER
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Prologue
“Margret, maybe we shouldn’t meddle in her affairs,” Betty cautioned her longtime friend. “Your niece knows how to get a man. She will find one when she’s ready.”
“And I will be dead and buried,” retorted Margret. “I can’t wait that long. Have you seen Allie lately? She needs someone in her life or she is just going to end up alone.”
“You are happy,” retorted Betty with a peeved look.
Margret huffed, “But I at least tried first before I ended up by myself.”
“You can be a bitch,” Betty said jokingly and sniggered as Margret swatted at her.
“I’m a loving person,” Margret retorted continuing with her task. “It will work this time. I’m pulling out all the stops.”
“Well the last one she dated was quite the doozy,” said Betty. “What was his name again? Adam? Alex?”
“Alan,” Margret corrected as she flipped through the old worn pages of her book, “and I told her he was not her type, but no… she said he seemed sweet. That one was not entirely my fault and I’d only used enough magic to get her to just look at him. It’s like damned clothes; some things just look better on the hanger.”
They both laughed.
Margret lovingly fingered the old pages of her leather-bound book. The book had been passed down through many generations of women in their family, touched by many fingers, entrusted to the care of her family. The odd smell of age and use wafted from its pages.
“And before that was Jerry,” continued Betty, tapping her fingers thoughtfully on the counter. “We both knew that would not work out.” They giggled in unison, “Lord have mercy on that boy and whoever ended up with him.”
“Now, now, there is always somebody for everybody out there. He was ten years older than her, Betty,” Margret answered. “Hardly a boy, but not right for my Allie.”
Betty peered at the old book as Margret flipped through its pages. “And you’re sure this will work?”
“It worked last time,” smiled Margret mischievously.
“Well, that was fifteen years ago,” smiled Betty.
“And how is your daughter and her husband and, what is it now, five children?” Margret asked with a smirk.
“Very happy, obviously,” Betty smiled. “Okay,” she gave in, “find the damn spell.” She sighed, “I hope Allie will not be too cross with us.”
“It will be the perfect Christmas present,” smiled Margret. “And we can blame it on old age and wanting to help.”
“Oh yeah,” Betty rolled her eyes, “because being old makes us, what? Forget to mind our business?”
“Yes,” smiled Margret, “and mischievous.”
They both laughed and started to hum a Christmas tune as they gathered the necessary items and set to work. The atmosphere hummed with excitement, love, and good intentions.
Chapter 1
Brock was leaving work early today and didn’t care that it was out of character for him. He had enough crap go wrong this week and the office was feeling overly claustrophobic. He avoided the eyes of his employees as he closed his office door a little too hard.
He stormed out of his office and toward his new sports car—an early gift to himself. He’d always wanted one. It had taken awhile, but he’d finally achieved it. He’d brought his family’s company back from the edge of ruin and kicked it up a notch on the success ladder.
It did not help his mood at the moment, however. He was pissed from spending an hour on the phone with his client, trying to gain back their trust. All he’d worked for, the company’s reputation was on the line because of one stupid, idiotic mistake. A fuck up…
Brock was furious.
How incompetent could they be? The new recruits sent by his uncle were utterly ridiculous and had screwed things up royally. Big money was spent to ensure that his men received the best training. When they were sent to him, it was guaranteed mistakes would not be made. Fuckups would not happen where his company was concerned.
Now some of his best guys had to go clean it up and take care of the situation. It was a cut-and-dried fucking job!
Now he had a pissed client that he’d have to make good with or refund a hefty amount of money. A dent in his reputation, the company’s reputation, and a refund, were not an option.
Fuck!
It was time for his uncle, and their training facility, to receive a visit and possibly an overhaul. Obviously, someone was getting lax with the training.
After his father died, Brock had proudly taken over the business. He prided himself in running, not only the best, but the fucking best well-oiled machine humanly possible. He’d spent months fixing gaps in the training and closing loose ends his father had not bothered to address.
He fired the problems, hiring fresh blood to the company in their wake. For two years there hadn’t been one problem—until now. Elite Ops was one of the highest sought after companies when it came to protection, discreet investigations, and transportation of high-ranking citizens of the U.S. and abroad.
It wasn’t a hiccup but a fucking bomb, and it pissed him off. Brock breathed deeply, trying to rein in his anger and rolled his neck to release the tension in his muscles.
He tossed his briefcase to the passenger’s seat and quickly threw the car into drive, smiling at the purring sound emanating from the engine. He looked out the window to the metal and cement, modern, three-story building and sighed.
A lot of things had gone wrong this week, Brock thought as he drove out of the parking lot. He kicked it up another gear as he hit the highway, his anger slightly melting away. Everywhere he looked, reminders of the season glimmered back at him—candles, Christmas trees, and trumpets were attached to the poles along the road.
Brock needed to think. The problem would have to be solved. He sped up as small snowflakes began to dot the windshield.
He watched cars pass him.
Suddenly he cut lanes and veered over toward the off-ra
mp. Today he would take the long way home and hit some back roads to clear his mind and temper his anger. His muscles rippled as his hand tightened its grip on the steering wheel. Nothing like a good drive to achieve that.
He’d plan an unannounced visit to the training facility—a little surprise to see what was going on. He thought about his uncle. It was time for another meeting between the two of them to make sure they were being consistent, standards were met, and regulations followed.
He drove on as he focused on the hum of the engine pushing the car forward.
Brock sighed as his phone rang. Looking at his ID, he cursed when he saw his uncle’s name and reluctantly answered, “What?”
“Hey there, sport,” retorted his uncle, “heard you had some trouble with the Channey job. You know he’s our biggest client, right? You need to fix it.”
“Straight to the point,” Brock countered. “I’m taking care of it; nothing to concern yourself over.”
“It needs to be fixed ASAP,” Uncle Jess snarked with fake concern lacing every word.
“And you think I don’t fucking know that?” Brock bit back. “I am sending your guys back to the training facility. They’re not ready. They fucked up!”
“They are ready,” his uncle said sternly with a sharp edge to his voice.
“No, they are not,” Brock snarled. “I will not have a bunch of dumbasses ruin my reputation, a reputation started by my family, that I worked hard to maintain and grow. When they know what they’re doing, I will test them, and if they pass my expectations and standards, then I might use them.”
“What are you telling me? You put them on probation? After their first job?” his uncle asked, anger and astonishment evident behind his words. “I know how to properly train my men. You doing this is directly questioning my authority and capability to turn out high-quality, trained, bodyguards.”
“I said nothing about your training capabilities, now did I? And yes, they are on probation and I entered them into the retraining program today.”
“They will be fucking pissed,” answered
Uncle Jess.
“Not my problem,” Brock countered.
“That’s another six weeks of boot camp,” exclaimed his uncle. “You’ll break them.”
“They should not have screwed up so badly,” Brock stated bluntly. “They will learn or find another form of employment.” Before his uncle could argue, he ended the call and set his phone back down atop the console.
Looking around, Brock quickly realized he’d missed his turn.
Damn!
So much for taking the scenic route home, he thought. Now he’d have to drive around and find a way back to the main road and the snow was starting to fall heavier.
Shit.
He did not like stress and this whole situation was causing just that. Brock slowed to a stop at a four-way, looking around, trying to decide which way to turn, and realized nothing looked familiar. He ran his hands through his dark hair, sharply exhaling through his nostrils. It was now well past an hour since he’d veered from his normal route home and hit the off-ramp.
He turned left and looked down a long rural country road with lots of trees dotting the roadside. Fucking fantastic! He’d officially left the city. He punched at the map app on his cell phone, trying to find his location and a route back to the highway, but it was screwing up. Not a convenient time, he thought, as snow swirled around the windows of his car.
This damned thing was not really meant for snow, Brock swore as his tires slid on a patch of ice. He should have driven his truck to work this morning, but he’d wanted to test out his new toy and gave in to the temptation beckoning to him from the garage.
With every second that passed, the snow seemed to get thicker.
Another hour and a couple of turns later, Brock still had no idea if he was going in the right direction—nothing looked familiar, and it was starting to get dark. In the distance, he spotted something twinkling. Through squinted eyes, he could make out some lights through the snow. They were like a beacon pushing him forward.
Suddenly, a large deer jumped in front of his car from the brush along the left side of the road. Damned deer, he thought, as he cursed and grabbed the wheel tightly with both hands. Trying to maneuver around the large animal, the tires hit a patch of ice.
As Brock swerved, screeching sounds filled his ears, and the back tire of the car hit a large pothole in the road, sending the car into a full flip and landing in the ditch, half-covered in snow.
Chapter 2
Allie loved Christmas. It was her favorite time of the year, and for her, it held a special kind of magic. The rest of the year just seemed to be lacking in comparison.
She loved the snow, the lights, the colors, the smells, the Christmas tree, and the fact that she could use her big fireplace all freaking day. The mantel was usually lined with apple cinnamon-scented candles.
She loved the smell of the wood burning in the old fireplace and the sound of the wood crackling as the hot embers glowed deep orange. She could sit on her big comfy couch and watch the fire burn for hours.
It was comforting—relaxing. She often found herself staring into its warmth.
She loved fireplaces, and her fireplace happened to be original to the house with a huge mantel that was made from reclaimed barn wood.
Allie loved everything about her house.
It was old and rustic with the original wood beam ceilings and wood plank floors. She’d restored it as best she could with her mother’s inheritance. She wasn’t able to save the old floor in the kitchen, but she’d had a new deep brown cement floor poured, stained, and buffed to a beautiful shine. She thought it gave the room character. She took a deep breath, smelling the delicious aroma that now filled her house from the cooling apple pie sitting on the counter.
She sighed happily as she cozied up on her couch in her red and white striped leggings and wool socks and sank comfortably into the soft cushions. Her fluff baby Max cuddled up next to her, and she sipped a huge hot mug of hazelnut-flavored coffee sweetened to hummingbird level.
Allie sighed. She watched the flames dance and sparks fly as she pet her sweet cat, swirling his long gray and white fur around her pointer finger. The little white lights she’d worked so hard at putting up around the perimeter of her living room and the multicolored lights on her Christmas tree, twinkled happily.
She’d spent a whole day putting up soft white lights throughout her greenhouse, too. She just loved it. From the road, her greenhouse stood out like a sore thumb, but she didn’t care. Christmas gave her the excuse she needed to put lights up anywhere and everywhere she wanted within reach, besides her back porch and garden where she kept them up and twinkling all year.
Suddenly, her phone rang and Allie jumped.
“Hi, honey; I think you need to head over,” said Aunt Margret gingerly. “I think something is wrong with Kitty.”
“Your overweight cat?” Allie giggled. “I thought you followed Dr. Hammond’s advice and put her on that special cat diet.”
“Well, yes,” Aunt Margret answered sheepishly, “but she is older and you know we only live once.” She paused. “I think she should be allowed a treat here and there.”
“He told you no treats, Aunt Margret,” Allie chided. “What is Kitty doing?”
“Well, she looks kind of funny,” Aunt Margret answered quietly.
“Kind of funny? What do you mean?” Allie calmly asked. There was a long pause. “Aunt Margret?”
“I think you need to get over here, honey,” Aunt Margret finally answered.
Allie sighed, but couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face. The cat was probably perfectly all right. “Fine; I’ll be there in a bit.”
Satisfied, Aunt Margret answered, “Thank you! See you in a little while, honey.” Seemingly satisfied, she hung up.
Allie sighed and looked at her cell phone. She couldn’t help but love her Aunt Margret; she was a unique person with a big person
ality and a knack for getting into trouble.
Allie was not the strongest witch in the family, but she had a special knack for healing that her sweet mother had not possessed, and neither did her aunt. Max meowed loudly at her side, wanting to be patted again. Allie giggled and obliged the cat, quickly being rewarded with a loud, deep purr.
“Well, guess I’m heading to Aunt Margret’s,” Allie said as she pet her fluff baby.
~*~
It was cold out and Allie didn’t look forward to stepping one foot outside her deliciously toasty house.
She pulled on her heavy boots, coat, and crochet hat and headed out the door into her garage to the old pickup truck she loved so much. Hopping in, she patted the wheel and cranked the engine to life. She hit a little button and giggled as the garage door rose behind her. She still got excited over her new garage door that she’d purchased last year. It beat having to manhandle the dang thing up.
Geez, it’s cold, she thought as she waited for the cab to warm up as she made her way up the drive.
She smiled at the sight of all the little white lights twinkling from her porch. She may have gone a tad overboard this year with the whole decorating thing, but why not enjoy her favorite time of year?
At least the snow had lightened up considerably. It would make the drive to her aunt’s house easier. She couldn’t help but laugh when she thought of her aunt’s cat. She’d never seen a cat so big and fluffy in all her life, but it was the sweetest animal ever, especially if you had a meaty treat.
She made her way past the little loop drive around the tree wrapped in white lights in front of her house and continued down her long driveway. It was about ten minutes to her aunt’s house normally, but with the snow, it would probably be closer to twenty. She shivered slightly, but the heat was finally catching up.
Allie made her way down the road, smiling at a deer along the ditch, poking its head out curiously sniffing at the air. That was another reason she loved her home; she was surrounded by beautiful wildlife.
