by Lizzy Prince
Shadow Cursed
Lizzy Prince
Contents
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
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Want more?
Afterword
About the Author
Don’t forget…
Also by Lizzy Prince
Copyright ©2021 by Lizzy Prince. All rights reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected].
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
http://www.lizzyprince.com
Created with Vellum
To anyone who has stayed up reading until 3 a.m., telling yourself “just one more chapter!” This book is for you.
Chapter One
Bridget
2 Years Ago
Crap. I just dropped a cupcake on my foot.
I’m manning my shop’s booth at the farmer’s market—the same one that’s held every Saturday during the summer in Shadow Falls—and I’ve just seen Silas Ivailo for the very first time. Of course, I don’t know his name yet, but that doesn’t stop me from diving right into the deep end, fully clothed and without a floaty. All it takes is one glimpse and I’m a little bit in love. My body flips into overdrive—sweaty palms, heart racing, ears ringing—while my brain completely shuts down. Which is why there’s a cupcake smashed on top of my foot.
“Uh, miss? You alright?” The owner of the cupcake decorating my shoe is trying to get my attention. I blink at him blankly for a few seconds before I float back into my body.
“Yeah, sorry. Let me get you a new one.” I maneuver the foot with the smushed cake on it over a trash can and flick it in. Quickly grabbing a replacement, I practically shove it at the guy and wave him off. I’m too busy trying to angle my head to find Silas again.
He’s hard to miss in the crowd, and I see him long before he ever reaches my booth. I swear a sunbeam is shining down on him like a spotlight from heaven. It’s as if the universe is saying, ‘Oh hey, did you see this guy right here? Yeah, he’s pretty much perfect.’
I’ve only been in Shadow Falls for a few months, having just moved here to take over my grandmother’s bakery, The Sweet Spot. My nana June has been grooming me to step in after her retirement since I was old enough to stir batter. Just before I finished grad school, she announced she was sick of going to work every day, and it was time for me to take over the shop. After graduation, I happily packed all my belongings, shoving them in the back of my beat-up Volkswagen hatchback, and drove to the middle of the country. I moved into a shoebox sized apartment in downtown Shadow Falls and started running the bakery.
Silas isn’t paying any attention to me when he finally wanders over to my booth. He’s laughing at something his friend is saying, although his eyes are skimming the crowd. It’s like he’s scanning for threats. Not that the farmer’s market is full of sketchy people or anything, but almost as if from habit. Although, now that I think about it, there are a lot of people here rocking ridiculously ugly glasses that look like the pair my grandpa Frank always wore. There’s definitely something unsettling about that.
My booth is set up with samples of cupcakes, cookies, and other baked goods for people to buy. There’s a tray of mini cupcakes prettily displayed at the front of my table. Half are double chocolate devil’s food with a peanut butter center and chocolate frosting. The rest are lemon supreme cupcakes filled with homemade lemon curd and topped with a raspberry creme frosting. I know they’re good because I ate way too many while baking them. Hazard of the job, I guess.
Silas’s eyes swing down to the samples, and I watch as his huge fingers delicately pluck the small confection from the tray. There’s a look of appreciation on his face that makes me feel all warm and tingly. When he pops the whole thing in his mouth, closing his eyes and groaning as if it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten, I can only watch, completely transfixed. My mouth has gone dry, probably because any moisture in my body has migrated south.
I know I’m staring at him with my mouth open and eyes glazed, but I can’t help it. I’m looking at the sexiest, most gorgeous beast of a man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. He’s tall with broad shoulders and a body that is all powerful muscles and coiled strength. Dark blond hair with streaks of gold falls just to the top of his collar. Long hair isn’t usually my thing, but on him, drool. He has at least a days’ worth of scruff covering his jaw, giving him a devilish and rugged demeanor. He’s like an angel and a temptation wrapped in one super fine package.
At first, I think he’s going to walk away without even glancing in my direction. Then his mossy green eyes—their color so darkly green and piercing that I’ve never seen the likes anywhere else in my life—lower to take me in. And oh boy, does he ever. That beautiful green gaze devours me from head to toe, not missing one inch of my entire five feet. His eyes glow with appreciation as a smile brightens his face, revealing one barely there dimple on his right cheek. With the full weight of his attention on me, I melt. I’m just a gooey mess like chocolate left out in the sun.
He must think I’ve got rocks in my head instead of a brain, because I can’t stop staring at him. Silas licks his lips, then sucks on his finger with the most sensual mouth I’ve ever seen, to savor the last little trace of frosting.
“Delicious.” His voice is a thing of masculine beauty. Deep, resonating, and somehow animalistic, too.
My ovaries combust, and I get a little lightheaded. There’s a decent sized crowd at the market today, but I don’t notice anyone but Silas. Before my brain can reboot, he’s winking at me as he walks away. He would have gotten lost in the crowd if he wasn’t so damn tall. I spend the rest of the day looking for his tawny hair towering above everyone else, which only makes me feel like a stalker. Though, in my defense, I never leave my booth.
From that first moment, I’m a goner. It only gets worse when he starts coming into the bakery. I’m there all the time because I’m terrified of messing something up. This is my nana’s legacy, and it’s been my dream to own the shop since I was little. There is no way I’m going to fail, which means I'm there all the time. When Silas first started coming in, he’d just grab a cookie and a coffee, or sometimes fresh baked bread or muffins, but he never said more than hello. After a few weeks, he started waiting until I was free to help him, even if Millie was working the counter.
Millie, my sole employee, who’s worked at The Sweet Spot since the doors opened, spotted his frequent appearance after just a few visits. And since I’m not at all subtle or covert, she also noticed my dopey response to him. Millie is thin as a whip with shor
t salt and pepper hair. She always has a gleam in her eye like she’s up to something, and she usually is. She’s seventy-two but acts like she’s seventeen. She’s as much awesome as she is a pain in my ass.
Whenever Silas pops in, Millie gets a look on her face like she’s got a juicy secret. The first time he came in, she whistled and said, “Now that man is a tall drink of water.”
When I didn’t immediately get married to Silas and start having his babies, Millie started trying to ‘get us gorgeous people together.’ Only, her idea of playing matchmaker included disappearing from behind the counter whenever Silas stopped by, forcing me to wait on him. To top it off, the sneaky turd would loudly announce his presence by saying, “Bridget, your drink’s here.”
I can’t even be mad at her for being such a meddling turd, because she means well.
Most of the time, Silas just tells me his order while his eyes playfully take in every detail of me from head to toe. And it’s those looks that have me dressing up each day, even though I inevitably end up covered in flour and frosting by the time Silas shows up. I’ve started wearing flirty little sundresses or flouncy tops with my favorite dark blue flood pants that have little gold wolves embroidered all over them like polka dots. One day, Silas randomly mentioned that I had beautiful hair, so of course my response was to start wearing my hair down. Even though I have to tie it back when I’m in the kitchen. The long reddish-brown strands are still in the way, and by the end of the day there’s always something sticky in it, but he thinks it’s beautiful. He bought a chocolate croissant the day he murmured the compliment. I remember dumb stuff like that because every one of our interactions are seared into my memories.
I’ve been trapped in the kitchen most of the morning and have barely come up for a breath. When I finally emerge from the back and look out the large windows at the front of the shop, I stop in surprise.
“Holy cow, when did it start snowing so hard?” I ask Millie, who’s sitting on a stool behind the counter, flipping through a gossip magazine. The store is completely empty, probably because it looks like we’ve gotten about a foot of snow in a couple of hours. Everything is tidy in the shop, the black and white checkered floor swept, all the chairs pushed under small red tables. Obviously, it’s been dead in here for a while.
“You were in a zone. I didn’t want to interrupt,” Millie responds without looking up from a shirtless picture of… Zac Efron. Okay then.
“Geez, Millie, you should go home. I don’t want you driving in this.”
“It’s fine. I already called Bert to come pick me up. He should be here soon.”
“Good. Take some muffins with you.” I start tossing some muffins and a few cookies for Bert in a bag when I hear the door open. The wind howls in with a whirring sound that makes me grimace. It’s going to suck getting home in this crap. Assuming it’s Bert, I call out, “I have your favorite cookies!”
“You already know my favorite cookies?” that deep, sumptuous voice that I’d know anywhere calls back, and I jump in surprise, hitting my head on the top of the case holding all the baked goods. I hiss and rub my head as I come out from behind the case and find Silas leaning against the counter. Millie, of course, is nowhere to be found. Where did that sneaky old lady go?
Silas’s hair and coat are covered in snow that’s rapidly melting, making his hair look a shade darker than normal. He shakes his head and shimmies, looking adorably like a puppy, making me laugh. The sound surprises us both. Normally, I just sort of grin stupidly at Silas, unable to figure out how to speak words in his presence.
“Is it too late to get one of those cookies?” He dips his chin toward the bag I’m putting together for Bert.
“Ah, no. Not at all. You can take the rest. They won’t be any good tomorrow, and I don’t want to throw them out,” I say as I start shoveling all the leftover cookies into a bag.
“Are you sure?” I happen to look up in time for Silas to level me with that panty melting grin of his. And I’m back to zero brain cells as I blink and nod at him without speaking.
Usually when I check Silas out or hand him whatever goodies he’s buying that day, he’ll say, “Thanks, Toots,” like he’s been lifted straight out of the 1930s. But today, he doesn’t do that. Nope. Silas leans forward, bringing his hand up toward my chest.
Is he… is he going to touch my boob in the middle of the bakery?
My breath hitches, and I impersonate a statue, freezing in place, contemplating if I mind having my boob groped by Silas for the first time with a counter between us and Millie in the back room. Who am I kidding? There’s a good chance I’d let him toss me up on the counter and have sex with a shop full of customers watching if he wanted to. But, it turns out, he wasn’t making a grab for the girls. He simply touches the tip of his finger to the nametag pinned to my apron. I’m not going to question how disappointed I feel that he doesn’t cop a feel.
“Thanks, Bridget.”
He smiles with that dimple peeking out, and I swear the way my name rumbles through his throat and past his lips nearly sends me to my knees. With a gulp and a nod, I hand over the bag of cookies and shiver when our fingers brush, feeling a warmth bloom deep in my chest from just that small contact. Silas, on the other hand, looks like he’s seen a ghost. His face goes slack, looking dazed. After a few seconds, he blinks, and his eyes clear, but he’s still wearing a stunned look on his face. Then a grin slowly blazes over his face in the most brilliant smile I’ve ever seen.
“I’ll be seeing you soon, Bridget. You should go home soon before the storm gets worse. Drive safe.” He keeps his eyes on me as he walks backwards out the door.
My hand lifts up in a wave, because my body is stupid, and I can’t seem to control it around Silas. I’m pretty sure I manage to flutter my lashes and stare longingly at him with puppy dog eyes, but that’s about it. To say I’m smitten is an understatement.
The first year working at the bakery is insane, and I have no life outside the shop. I wake up at four in the morning to start baking and fall into bed exhausted each night before nine o’clock. I work every day of the week and never go out. My cousin Remi was constantly on my case about taking a break so I didn’t go insane. Skipping celebrating my birthday because I was working instead was the final straw for her. Which is likely why I’m seeing her face right now.
The store is packed with customers, which is fantastic, considering it’s mid-morning. There are always a lot of fall tourists that come to town to enjoy the quaint, picturesque main street of Shadow Falls. They come to do some shopping at the quirky storefronts that sit on either side of the street and stop in at my bakery for a pick-me-up along the way. Remi ignores them all as she comes barreling into the store, slipping between tables and a line of customers with an almost floating grace that belies her sharp personality. She’s a tornado of gorgeous light brown hair and dark brown eyes that never miss a thing. Remi is a mashup of an old Hollywood icon and a cartoon thug. Not like the drug dealing sort, more like the Michael Jackson “Beat It” kind that wears sweet leather jackets and has dance battles. Although, Remi would definitely cut a bitch if someone looked at her the wrong way.
Once she maneuvers through the store and reaches the front counter, Remi smacks her hands down and leans into my face.
“You are taking tomorrow off.” She narrows her eyes at me, lifting up a finger to poke me in the chest. “Because even if you want to pretend you have no life, I refuse to let you skip celebrating your birthday. Don’t even bother trying to argue, we’re going out tonight. It’s happening.”
Without another word, she turns around, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she’s in a damn shampoo commercial. She waves her hand over her head, flipping me the bird at the same time, as if that’s an appropriate goodbye. For Remi, it’s pretty standard.
I don’t even bother trying to back out on her. Part of me is glad she’s forcing me to get out of my insulated little world. I really haven’t done anything besides work for twelve
months. Unless flirting with Silas counts as socializing. Except that only happens when I’m working.
Millie kicks me out of the shop well before closing, informing me that my nana called and told Millie she’d be fired if she didn’t get me out the door. Damn Remi. I’m sure she enlisted my nana’s help to give me the extra dose of guilt.
“She’s not the one who can fire you, Millie. The deed isn’t in her name.” My mouth purses, and I scramble to escape Millie’s foot when she tries to kick me in the butt.
“Get going. If your tall drink comes in, I’ll tell him to go find you out tonight.”
I bang into the side of the door, hissing out a prolonged ouch as her words stun me into stupidity, and I walk right into the damn thing.
“Um… okay… I’m leaving. If anything happens, call me? If you need me to come back—”
“Just go! For God’s sake. It’s not like you’re leaving me to guard a nuclear weapon. I’ve run the shop hundreds of times on my own. The cupcakes will be fine without you for the night.” Millie grabs a broom and is attempting to physically sweep me out the door.
My only response is a grunt, because I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of more words. But somehow, by the time I make it to my car, I’m feeling a whole lot less burdened and way too excited for a night out. I shoot Remi a text letting her know I’ll be over in an hour to start getting ready.
