by Cindy Stark
“I hope we have this nasty business of John Bartles cleared up by then. I wouldn’t want it to overshadow your day. Any word from your mother?”
She shook her head, a happy smile on her lips. “Nope. Nothing.”
“Let’s keep our fingers crossed.”
“Victor is giving me a little trouble, though. He keeps on insisting he’s the man for me, claiming he’s part of that whole prophecy thing.”
Cora grew silent, and Hazel sharpened the focus on her friend. “Tell me you don’t agree with him.”
Cora shook her head. “I don’t. I mean, it seems logical because he’s so powerful.”
“Powerful in the head, but not in his heart. If the town is to be healed, if this whole thing isn’t made up nonsense, then I need someone who loves Stonebridge as much as I do. Don’t you think that makes more sense? A couple who represents both sides will bring them together?”
Cora nodded slowly as though pondering the idea. “Yes. Yes, I do think that makes perfect sense. Maybe that’s part of the reason your tapestry has come together so fast. There wasn’t time to waste growing it slowly.”
She ate a bite of cake while she considered that suggestion, too. “All I know is my heart says Peter is the one for me, so I have to trust that.”
Cora sent her a comforting smile. “Can’t go wrong there.”
She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed someone’s support of her choice until that moment. “Spoken like a true maid of honor. Thank you.”
Hazel lifted the sage green mug in front of her but didn’t drink. “I need to get back into Timothy’s office, Cora. I didn’t get near enough time to read everything, and I want my grandmother’s diary. It belongs to me.”
Cora agreed with a tip of her head. “That it does.”
“I already know how to find the chest and open it. I just need to break into the library. Problem is, I made the mistake of telling Peter, which probably really isn’t a mistake if we’re going to be married, but he says I need to leave things to him for now and not rely on magic.”
Cora scrunched her brows together. “Seems silly to not use the power you have. Though I agree about not putting yourself in danger.”
She eyed her friend with a questioning look. “Don’t you want to have a look inside? It’s your name that’s in his notebook. What if there’s more information about you? What if there’s more about others, and I missed it. I don’t think I can wait for Peter to solve Fauna’s case and hope that he discovers information about Sarah’s murder, too.”
“Let’s do it.”
Cora’s quick response caught her off guard, and she dropped her jaw. It took her a moment to recover. “You want to?”
She sighed and shook her head. “If this prophecy is real, if this is truly going to work, then we need everything we can get our hands on to help us. Also, I’d really like to stick it to Timothy. Jerk was in my diner earlier hinting that perhaps Fauna had done something to deserve what happened, and it took everything I had not to pour a pot of coffee on him.”
Hazel snickered. “I would have loved to have seen that. Maybe we should look more into hexes. I say that as a joke because we all know how dangerous they can be, but maybe we really should.”
Cora’s eyes lit with approval. “You’re certainly not the timid witch who showed up in Stonebridge almost a year ago.”
Hazel pondered that thought for a moment. “No. I’m not. I’d like to think that makes Clarabelle proud of me.”
“Makes me proud.”
Hazel took a drink of the rich, full-flavored coffee and sighed. “We should wait until the new moon, so we can use the dark to hide us.”
“Good. That will give us enough time to plan.”
She observed her friend with a cautious glance. “Are you nervous? I am, but also, I don’t want you to do this if you don’t want to.”
“Of course, I’m nervous. But our time has come. If we want to win back this town, we can’t do it hiding in the corners.”
Cora was one of the wisest women Hazel knew. “I’ll do some reconnaissance over the next few days and see if I can find the weakest entry point. It would be great if you could find a spell that would make us invisible.”
Cora laughed. “Yeah, that would be amazing. But don’t count on it. I think that goes against the laws of nature.”
“Timothy did it with his chest in the library.”
“That’s a non-moving, non-living thing. The energy it’s comprised of is miniscule compared to one of us.”
Hazel sighed. “You’re right. We’ll just have to hope the darkness of night provides the same protection.”
Chapter Eleven
Hazel pondered the list of ingredients she normally used to make her teas and considered the properties of each. Gretta had the front of the store covered, which gave her an opportunity to work on a most special tea. She wanted to create a blend inspired by Peter and her. Ingredients that echoed who they were as people, and she wanted to serve it at her wedding. Afterward, she’d sell it in her store with the other holiday blends she’d been working on.
Or, if it was extremely popular, she’d keep it on the shelves all year long.
Gretta poked her head into the backroom and tucked her midnight hair behind her ear, her smile bright as usual. “Okay if I take a quick break and run for a minute? The grocery store has chicken on sale, and I wanted to get some for my freezer.”
Hazel smiled at her assistant. “Of course. Take your time. It’s been slow this morning.”
Gretta’s smile grew to a grin, and she gave a quick wave. “Best boss ever,” she called as she headed out the front door.
“Cranberry or blueberry?” she muttered.
The bell on the front door chimed, and she groaned. Of course. The moment Gretta wasn’t available…
She stepped out of the backroom and found Victor with one side of his mouth turned upward in his trademark sexy grin. She was surprised, though, to find that he’d cut his hair. Similar to Peter’s actually. “Hello, Victor.”
He looked her up and down with obvious appreciation. “Good morning, goddess. Looking as beautiful as always.”
She rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you tired of Stonebridge yet?”
He shrugged. “Its uniqueness has worn off, and the coven bores me most of the time, but as long as you’re here, I’m here.”
“Why-yyy…” she asked, dragging the sound out like a kid who didn’t want to do his homework.
He ran a hand through his hair, like he’d done forever when his bangs were long, and then frowned. Obviously, he’d forgotten he’d cut it. “Because you are my destiny.”
“I really don’t understand why you continue to believe that. I don’t.”
“The prophecy states that you will need a strong man beside you. I don’t take my obligations lightly. I will be here for you, goddess, when you need me.”
She held up a hand, indicating that he should stop. “Let’s back this thing up. My prophecy,” she said, with a heavy emphasis on “my”, “is that I will have a chance to heal a town, this town, I’m assuming because my family is from here, and I just happen to be here at the appropriate time.”
He leaned on the counter, studying her with a smile that left no doubt of his attraction to her. “Yes…”
She narrowed her gaze. “Do you have your own prophecy that says you will partner with another witch to do the same?”
Her question seemed to puzzle him for a moment, and then he straightened to his full, intimidating height. “No, but yours states you need a strong man to help you. There’s no one stronger than me, and I’ve always loved you.”
That fact could be heavily debated, but she didn’t want to divert their discussion away from the main point. “So, you have nothing of your own. Just an assumption.”
“That’s all I need.”
She stared at him for a long, hard moment. “You’re not the one, Victor. You’re not the one.”
He gave a slow blink,
and she hoped her words had sunk in. “Yes, I am.”
She groaned and dropped her face into her hand. “No, Victor. You’re not.”
“Ask your mother. She’ll tell you that you need me in your life.”
Of course, she would. Hazel shook her head in warning. “Leave my mother out of this. She has no business in my life.”
“She only wants what’s best for you. Same as me.”
Hazel pointed a firm finger toward him. “She only wants what’s best for her.”
Victor shook his head and gave her a sexy wink. “It’s okay, Hazel. Believe what you want but know that I’ll be here when you need me. It would just be a lot easier if you weren’t married to that cop. A physical and emotional union between us would make us much stronger.”
She chuckled then, her laughter strangled by the ridiculousness of their conversation.
“I’ll do anything you want, goddess. Just ask.”
She was about to send him out the door, but a thought stopped her. Victor was a man about town. He seemed to hear everything about her, so maybe he’d heard other things. “I want to know if you’ve heard anything about the death of John Bartles. Like, did some of the coven take their revenge after he hurt Fauna?”
Victor shrugged, reminding Hazel, once again, that he didn’t care much for Stonebridge’s citizens. “Haven’t heard anything. Though, recently, I’ve tuned out most of what the coven says. There are a few that are nothing but a bunch of bickering hens.”
She couldn’t hold back her smile. That description fit Harriett and Olivia particularly well. “Would you keep an ear out for me while you’re around them? They might say something in front of you that they wouldn’t with me.”
He smiled, showing off perfect white teeth. “Of course. Anything you ask, goddess.”
What woman wouldn’t want to hear those words every day of her life? Assuming they came in the right package and not from a cheating, heartbreaker.
“You could also help the coven by keeping an eye on Timothy Franklin and Samuel Canterbury. I hear Samuel’s back in town, and he’s not a friend of our type. He’d like to see us all dead.”
Victor’s irises darkened, and the temperature in the room dropped. “I can take care of him right now, if you’d like.”
The temptation to say yes pushed her limits. “No, not yet. I wouldn’t want to bring bad karma on you or me if I find out he’s all talk and no bite. I’m only going on hearsay. But I think we should watch him. He might be the true person who hurt Fauna.”
Victor blinked and then stared past her, and she feared she’d activated a monster.
“You heard me, right? I only want you to watch him.”
He gave her a dull stare. “If he’s hurting witches…”
“Victor,” she said sharply. “For once, you need to listen to me. I only want you to watch him. Of course, if you see him try to hurt someone, then go ahead. But only then. Promise?”
A warmth filled the room, and then tension dropped. “Of course, goddess. Anything for you.”
She stared at him for a long moment, trying to gauge the truth of his words. Problem was, she’d never been good at deciphering Victor’s heart. Finally, she sighed and flicked a glance at his head. “What’s up with the new haircut?”
He tilted his head to the side. “I thought maybe you’d like it.”
Just as she’d feared. She wanted to tell him to stop doing things like that but was tired of arguing. “Looks nice.”
He gestured with a confident lift of his chin and winked. “I’ll go check on Canterbury and let you know what I find out.”
At least he’d be occupied with something besides her.
He walked out of the teashop with a sexy swagger, crossed the cobblestone sidewalk and straddled his bike. The engine growled and roared to life.
He turned toward the teashop’s window and flicked a wave to her as though he’d known she’d be watching him.
She quickly looked away. What on earth would she do with that man? If he wasn’t such an idiot, he’d be a great catch. Not for her, of course.
Maybe one day, he’d figure things out and some woman somewhere would fall hard for him. Beneath all the sexy talk and stupid choices was a good heart.
He just didn’t know how to access it.
Chapter Twelve
Hazel had barely resettled herself in the workshop when the teashop’s door chimed again. “Seriously?” she said under her breath, the word dripping with frustration.
She slid off the stool and headed out front.
Her irritation instantly changed into bone-deep happiness. “Chief Parrish.”
“Well, hello, Miss Hardy. You’re looking mighty pretty today.”
She chuckled at his old-fashioned greeting. “You’re looking mighty handsome yourself.”
He strode around the corner of the counter, pulled her into his arms, and placed a possessive kiss on her lips. “Was that Victor I saw pulling away a minute ago? The dude needs to back off.”
She placed a hand on his cheek and gazed into his eyes. “Who’s Victor?”
His chest rumbled with laughter. “What did he want?”
She took his hand and tugged him into her workshop. “What does he ever want?”
Peter’s gaze hardened to emeralds. “You.”
“Well, he can’t have me. I put him in charge of watching Samuel Canterbury and sent him on his way.”
Peter nodded appreciatively. “That’ll keep him busy.”
“He brought up my mother again. The two speak to each other more than I like. Mrs. Rutherford suggested I send him a fake invitation to the wedding, and I think I’m going to have to do that. Otherwise, I’ll have them both breathing down my neck.”
His gaze softened. “Maybe you should just invite your mom. It is your wedding, after all. A special day, and I’m sure she’d like to be included.”
She leveled him with a firm stare. “No.”
He raised both hands in defeat and chuckled. “Okay. I won’t ask again.”
She lifted a package of dried green tea leaves from the shelf and resumed her seat. “Do you have your suit picked out?”
He gave her a wide grin. “Picked out, purchased, and hanging in my closet waiting for the day I make you mine.”
The irritation leftover from Victor’s visit and Peter’s questions dissipated. “Aw. I can’t wait to see you in it. You’ll be so handsome.”
“Yeah. You’re a lucky girl to have me.”
She snorted, and then deep emotion twisted in her chest, leaving her sappy. “I am, Peter. So lucky. Now stop, or you’re going to make me cry.”
He stepped behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her hair. Frissons of energy shot through her, warming every inch of her body. “What are you working on now?”
She opened her hands wide to encompass all the ingredients spread before her. “This, dear husband-to-be, is the drawing board for a new tea I’m creating in honor of our special day.”
“I see lavender and blueberries. Maybe cranberries and dried lemon. Are you putting all of that in it?”
She tilted her head to the side. “I hadn’t considered that. But, yeah, it would probably be too much. I’m trying to figure out ingredients that would represent us and go well together.”
He leaned his head close to her ear. “Make mine strong and spicy.”
She laughed and turned to face him. “I love you.”
He grinned. “I love you, too. You could call it Happy Honeymoon.”
Hazel narrowed her gaze into a playful stare. “I was thinking of calling it Happy Wife, Happy Life.”
He considered her for a moment with a serious look and then nodded. “I like it. Very catchy.”
She chuckled. “I meant it as a joke.”
“No, I get the sentiment. But it’s a name people will remember. If it’s any good, which it will be because you’re making it, you might be surprised what it does for your business.”
She
pondered that for a moment. “You might be right. Happy Wife, Happy Life. I’ll think about it.”
He glanced at his watch, and she frowned. “Do you have to be somewhere?”
“Nah, just checking the time. I’ve been here for more than five minutes, and you haven’t asked me about Fauna’s or John’s case yet. Are you feeling okay?”
She rolled her eyes. “Trust me. Both are constantly in my head. Anything new?”
He pulled an extra stool from across the room and sat next to her. “Not much. John’s prints are on the tailpipe and hose, so the easy conclusion would be to label it a suicide.”
She knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t inclined to accept status quo. “But you’re not convinced.”
He folded his hands across his chest, which pushed out his biceps, gaining her approval. “No. Too many loose ends. It would be easy to say he cheated on his wife, gave away a large portion of their savings, attacked Fauna, and then felt so guilty that he killed himself. But it’s so cut-and-dry perfect. Too perfect. I’m working on getting fingerprints from Susan and Eddy.”
Hazel considered his words for a moment and then nodded. “My instincts aren’t happy with that answer, either. I can’t help thinking the witches are involved somehow.”
He lifted interested brows. “Heard anything new?”
“No. All seems to be in order, though none of them are talking to me right now.”
“Still unhappy over our marriage?”
She nodded. “I haven’t exactly earned their trust yet, either. But Olivia and Harriett were so angry the day I saw them in the hospital. They were radiating hate and retribution. That’s hard to let go.”
He fished in his back pocket, pulled out a photo, and laid it on the counter before her.
She widened her eyes. “The rock pyramid. I’m so glad you didn’t forget.”
He laid down another that she didn’t realize he also held.
She slid her gaze in that direction. “What’s this?”
A small brown bird lay nearly hidden by the tall strands of dried grasses. “A bird?”
Peter nodded. “Dead bird.”