Twice Hexed_A Paranormal Cozy Mystery

by Cindy Stark

  Instead of shaking her hand, the man turned it and kissed the skin near her knuckles. “Luca Pellegrini.”

  “Oh,” she responded, sounding breathless. She’d never had a man kiss her hand in greeting. “I’m very happy to meet you.”

  He winked. “This is why Italian men make the best lovers.”

  She snorted, surprised by his candor and by the fact it didn’t come off creepy seeing that he was likely twenty years older than her. “I see.”

  He shrugged and smiled.

  She lifted her gaze as Belinda approached with his food. Beyond her shoulder, Hazel caught sight of Peter waiting by the bar with his hand resting on the butt of his gun. His gaze pierced hers, and her breakfast turned to stone.

  How long had he been watching?

  She forced a smile and waved.

  He turned his back to her, and the bottom fell out of her world. Peter accepted a paper bag from Cora, nodded, and walked from the restaurant without sparing her another glance.

  Luca leaned into her point of view. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, of course.” She tried to refocus on her breakfast companion and ignore the sick sensation churning inside her.

  She’d done nothing wrong. She hadn’t cheated because she and Peter weren’t dating. They weren’t…anything. She didn’t need to apologize or feel bad.

  Except traces of his anger and torment still clung to the air.

  Luca cut off a chunk of French toast and stuffed it into his mouth. A nod of satisfaction followed. “Excellent,” he said a moment later.

  She tried to breathe to settle her nerves, but it wasn’t working. She might as well accept that she’d be an emotional mess until she made things okay with Peter. Not that she owed him an explanation, just that…

  “I’m sorry, Luca. I do need to go. A friend was just in here, and I really need to speak with him. Will you forgive me for deserting you?”

  “But, of course. This was not a planned date. There is nothing to forgive.”

  Hazel stood and was surprised when he did the same. He held out his hand, and she placed hers on his.

  “Thank you for the pleasure of your company, bella Hazel.” He kissed her hand again and released her. “Perhaps I will see you once more while I am here, and you will bring me back my heart.” He placed a hand over his chest in a touching, if dramatic gesture.

  She shook her head, but smiled. “Thank you, Signore Pellegrini. If you have a chance, stop by my shop. I would be happy to serve you tea.”

  He gave her an agreeing nod and smiled.

  She turned and walked away. Several people watched her with interest as she left.

  By the time she reached the door, she realized she’d done what she always tried to avoid. She’d given enough people in town plenty to gossip about, and now she’d be questioned left and right about the mysterious man as well as about Peter.

  Nine

  Cool air greeted Hazel as she stepped outside the café, reducing the heat in her cheeks. So much for a celebration morning.

  She walked as fast as she could, her feet pounding on the cobblestone sidewalk, straight to the police station. Margaret was off because it was the weekend, and another officer manned the phones. His nice muscles, cropped dark hair and serious countenance reminded her of the enlisted Navy sailors she’d encountered along the coast.

  “Is Chief Parrish in?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, but he’s unavailable.” He jerked his head toward Peter’s closed door. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Cursed day. She could say it was a personal matter and insist on seeing him, but that would only add fuel to the gossip fires. She shouldn’t even care. It wasn’t like she and Peter were in a relationship. “Uh, no. Just wanted to see how he liked the latest tea we sent over.”

  His lips curved, breaking his demeanor into something friendlier. “I like that spiced chai.”

  She relaxed into a smile. “That’s so nice to hear.” At least her teashop was running well.

  She waved a dismissive hand toward Peter’s office. “I’ll check in with Chief Parrish another time. Have a lovely day.”

  “You, too, ma’am.”

  Angst flared inside her as she headed out of the building and back to the café where she’d left her bike. From there, she pedaled toward home.

  With each passing second, her thoughts tortured her more.

  She wished she had it in her to walk away, but the thought that she’d hurt his feelings ate at her. He was a good man, and he liked her. She was attracted to him, too. In his mind, there was no reason they couldn’t be together.

  He didn’t deserve to have a crappy day just because she was, and she was left with no way to fix it. Well, she could send a text, but she knew for certain that would do no good. She needed to see him face to face.

  Except she couldn’t.

  She growled in frustration. Instead of taking a right turn toward her house, she went left. Going home would mean hours of replaying the look on Peter’s face when he’d spotted her with Luca, which would drive her insane.

  Riding would keep her mind occupied and wear her out instead.

  As she pedaled, she realized she’d headed directly toward Clarabelle’s house and the magical woods. She shouldn’t have been surprised. It was Clarabelle’s birthday, after all, and maybe this was how she should have spent her day from the start.

  She slowed when she reached Hemlock, breathing deeply of the fresh spring air. Birds chirped in the trees, and the sound brought a measure of relief. She cruised across the bridge, casting her gaze toward the sparkling water that flowed beneath. This was such a beautiful area of town. No wonder her ancestors had chosen to live here.

  Instead of stopping to hide her bicycle near the bushes alongside the house, she rode all the way to the back where no one on the road could spot her. She dismounted and approached the back door with reverent footsteps.

  She expected to catch a glimpse of orange fur creeping up behind her, but Mr. Kitty must have had other more important things to do. Good. She didn’t want his energy or anyone else’s interfering with her experience today.

  The back door was locked the same as the front had been on her first visit.

  She closed her eyes and filled her lungs, searching for any sign of a presence. An immediate awareness prodded back.

  Hazel smiled and opened her eyes. “Clarabelle?” she whispered though no one was around to hear her. “May I come in? I’d like to wish you happy birthday.”

  With belief in her heart, she lifted her hand to the doorknob once again. It turned. She pushed on the door, and the hinges responded with a creaky greeting. She kept her heart open as she cautiously stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

  Cobwebs cascaded from wooden cupboards to the faded laminate countertops below. Dust motes danced in the sunlight that streamed in from the grimy kitchen window above the sink. A gorgeous, but filthy chandelier hung over an empty space where the table should go. Dusty curtains covered other windows near the table area.

  She recognized the place was a disaster, but she couldn’t help thinking how beautiful it could be. “You loved this room, didn’t you?” she said in a quiet voice.

  A rush of warm sensations filled her soul, and she smiled. “I can see why. It’s probably hard to see your home in such disrepair, but I promise if I can figure out a way to purchase it without others questioning my heritage, I will. A Hardy belongs in this house.”

  Prickles erupted along her forearms, giving her a chill. She glanced about the room as though searching for the source of the warning. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

  The cloak of trepidation didn’t fade, though.

  The first time Hazel had visited Clarabelle’s home, a voice had sent her racing off before she’d had time to explore the kitchen.

  Now, she had no such worries. She opened a cupboard and inhaled when a black spider rushed into a dark corner, and then promptly closed the door agai
n. She supposed that was to be expected in a house left unattended for so long, but she’d be sure to bring peppermint oil when she returned.

  She ventured into the bathroom that had been added on to the back of the house and eyed the clawfoot tub with envy. Obviously, Clarabelle had lived without these improvements, and Hazel wished she could have seen the house as it was when her ancestral grandmother had lived there, happy with her family before disaster struck.

  She wandered through the rooms again, catching sight of her footprints on the dusty wooden floors from her previous visit. The warm energy seemed to follow her, and she let it be, enjoying the company. In the room where she’d first discovered Mr. Kitty, she came to an abrupt halt.

  No cat prints had disturbed the dust, there or anywhere in the house. A shiver raced over her, leaving her with a tingly feeling. For a moment, she’d wondered if he’d been an apparition or figment of her imagination, but Peter had seen him as well.

  She descended the stairs, sat on the bottom step, and opened the secret hiding spot beneath the second stair. Nothing in there but the old wooden box that had housed Clarabelle’s book of spells.

  “I tried one of your spells that was supposed to make my lashes grow longer. Ended up with purple irises for a couple of days.” She snorted at her stupidity and swore Clarabelle enjoyed a laugh at her expense as well.

  More? The question echoed in her mind.

  “No, I haven’t tried more. I’m worried if I use too much magic, someone will discover me.”

  The air tightened with fear and anger again.

  “It’s okay.” She obviously needed to steer clear of talk about the townsfolk. “I also visited the circle in the grove. It’s amazing.”

  Happiness returned.

  “A friend of mine showed it to me. I can’t believe such a place exists.”

  The man.

  She froze, a little unnerved that Clarabelle knew about Peter. “Don’t worry. He’s a good person.” Despite his aversion to witches, she believed that to be true.

  Yes.

  A surprised chuckle escaped her. “Does that mean you approve?”

  No answer came, but she had the feeling Clarabelle did. But, would she if she knew his heritage?

  “Except I hurt his feelings, and I can’t get to him to apologize.” She wished he’d show up at the house again or follow her into the grove like he’d done before.

  She sighed as the heaviness weighted her heart. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

  Sadness rippled through the air.

  “I wish I had a way to learn more about your husband and what happened to him. Where our family went from here.”

  Book.

  “Your book of spells?”

  No answer.

  Even so, she’d flipped through it enough that she knew it didn’t contain a personal history. There must be, or at least had been, another book. Perhaps in the restricted section at the library or hidden somewhere else in the house?

  She stood and dusted off the back of her pants. “I wish I could stay here all day, but I should go. That silly orange cat who haunted this place followed me home, and he’s likely wondering where I am.”

  An echo of laughter rang throughout the house. Clarabelle was probably happy to be rid of the pest.

  “But I promise to come back often. I like it here. And one day when the time is right, I’ll own this house. Until then, keep scaring others away.”

  The sensation of a caress brushed her cheek, and then the house fell silent and empty once again. Clarabelle had gone. To where, Hazel had no idea, but she was certain the presence had disappeared.

  “Happy birthday,” she whispered to the silence.

  She left the house to find the sun had moved farther across the sky, indicating she’d been inside for quite a while though it hadn’t seemed like it. She didn’t care. Not many people had the opportunity to communicate with their ancestors, so any time spent with Clarabelle was a blessing.

  Back on her bike, Hazel rode the short distance to the bridge, and then abruptly stopped along the side of the road. Sometimes, her ideas were beyond brilliant. She couldn’t get to Peter, so she had to make him come to her. He wouldn’t respond to a simple message, but he would if he thought she needed help.

  “Should have thought of this sooner,” she muttered as she walked her bike off the edge of the bridge and into the soft dirt at the edge of the pavement. She dropped it there and then half-walked, half-slid down the muddy embankment where she dirtied her hands and wiped them on her knees as though she’d fallen.

  She found a perch on a rock and proceeded to do the most embarrassing thing she’d done in her life. Lie for the sake of a man.

  Ten

  A tirade of dangerous thoughts roared through Peter’s mind as he stared blankly at the papers on his desk in front of him. He’d warned the officer on desk duty not to let anyone bother him, and so far, no one had.

  That was probably for the best.

  He suppressed the urge to roar in anger. He should have stayed at Cora’s, should have called out the jerk who dared to put his lips on Hazel. Even if it was only her hand.

  Worse, Hazel had smiled. She’d smiled. The woman who was so paranoid of being with him, had allowed that guy to kiss her hand. In public.

  Peter plowed a hand through his hair, working to regain control of his emotions.

  He shouldn’t care. Hazel was nothing to him. He wasn’t even sure why he’d glanced her way to begin with. He’d managed to avoid a personal relationship with the other women in town. He should have done the same with her.

  His cell phone rang, dragging him from his vicious thoughts. He lifted the phone and glanced at the screen. Hazel. He spit out a curse and flipped the phone over on his desk.

  He couldn’t talk to her. Not now.

  With each ring, he gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to answer. After a few moments, the incessant ringing stopped.

  He exhaled and closed his eyes. Eventually, he’d run into her. By then, he would have had time to close over the wound in his heart. He’d go back to living half alive like he had since he’d laid Sarah in the ground and be just fine. Police work kept him plenty busy.

  When the ringing started again, he let go another curse and turned the phone. Her. Again. He ached to throw his phone against the wall and take satisfaction from the sound of it breaking.

  Instead, he clenched his fist, scrubbed the side of his forefinger with his thumb, and then growled before he punched the answer symbol on his phone. “What?”

  “Peter?”

  The sound of her voice tore through the wall he’d begun to erect like a bullet through parchment. “Were you expecting someone else?” He knew it was a crude thing to say, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “No.” Her voice sounded uncertain.

  She hesitated for a moment, and his anger started to slip. He couldn’t let that happen. “Are you calling to report a crime? If not, I’m busy.”

  More silence. Then the sound of her releasing a breath. “I need help.”

  Immediately, his heart jolted into action. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “I did a really stupid thing. I was riding too close to the edge of the road near the bridge on Hemlock. My tire must have caught in the mud. I fell, and I think I reinjured my ankle. I don’t know if I can climb back up the incline.”

  “On my way.” Without hesitation, he picked up his keys and strode out the door. “Back soon,” he called to the officer, not bothering to wait for a reply.

  When he saw her bike tipped at the side of the road, his heart clenched. The thought of her getting seriously hurt or worse was more than he could bear.

  He exited his vehicle and hurried toward the embankment. The sight of her sitting on a large rock near the edge of the river brought relief. From what he could see, she hadn’t sustained serious damage.

  She glanced up with a sheepish smile.

  “You okay?” he called and angled his boots sidew
ays as he navigated the slope.

  “Just a little banged up and feeling like a fool.”

  He narrowed his gaze, focusing on the smaller footprints that led toward Hazel. There were slide marks, but whoever had made them hadn’t tumbled down the hill like she’d made him believe.

  She’d walked.

  “Did you fall all the way down?” he asked as he neared the bottom, testing her story.

  “Most of the way.” She held up muddy palms. “I tried to get back up, but my ankle really hurts.”

  He was tempted to point out her obvious lie but decided against it. He’d let her talk herself into a corner first and then enjoy the telling.

  He reached her and took notice of the smeared handprints on her jeans. “Can you stand?”

  “I think so.” She got to her feet and then winced.

  If nothing else, he could appreciate her acting skills. “Sprained?”

  “It feels a lot like last time.”

  Except last time, she’d been trying to get away from him. “Here. Let me help you.” He lifted her right arm and draped it across his shoulder and then wrapped his arm around her waist. Together, they took a step toward the steep embankment.

  “It’s really pretty here,” she said.

  He glanced at the arch of the tunnel leading beneath the stone bridge and the clear water running through it. Green buds graced the twigs of trees and bushes all around them. “Sure is.”

  She gasped as though something had hurt her. “Maybe we should go slower.”

  They were already moving at a snail’s pace. What was her game? Was she trying to delay their movement so she could…what? He doubted she’d apologize. “Let’s try this another way.”

  Before she could question, he bent and placed his free arm beneath her knees, hauling her up against his chest.

  “Oh,” she said with a breathlessness that satisfied his soul. She could pretend she wasn’t attracted to him, but he was as sure of it as the sun coming up in the morning.

  “It’s okay. I can walk.”