At least we have this. His bear blew out a snort. Caleb didn't know if he convinced himself or the bear right now. The town had been a compromise between his animal side and the human side. They'd felt a call to this place after wandering for too long. Small, out of the way. And now, they were bored to tears.
The scent of chocolate grew stronger with a shift in the breeze, eclipsing the pine scent. Caleb chuckled, and the thought had played in his mind once or twice that Mrs. Emerson called him daily to have company, which his stomach didn't mind.
Stepping into the dirt alley, he strolled a block away from the shop. Trees were bare, or almost there. Fall in the mountains pretty much lasted a blink of an eye.
The chill of snow in the air meant winter was just a step behind. Right now he'd go hiking, but soon snowshoeing and cross-country skiing would keep him busy. Too bad he couldn't get a business started for the outdoor sports here. The hardware store, although a great business, was slow. He needed adventure. Just not the kind he found in the military.
The gravel crunched under his shoes as he passed one modest house after another. He bit at his lower lip, dragging his teeth over his goatee. For all the calm this place offered, he wished there was something to put them on the map. The lakes, trails, and the scenery, everything he thought he wanted. This place was his escape. He'd gotten lost in the quiet, a salve to the open wounds that never seemed to heal. Now though, something was changing. Change didn't have a scent, but he took in the air around him and knew something was coming. The restlessness of his bear drove it home further.
Caleb's stomach rumbled as Evelyn's baking wafted towards him. It was like a bread crumb that his nose could follow anywhere.
"There's my favorite handyman. Always so handsome. If I were just sixty years younger and you a few years older. You're practically a baby."
Caleb smiled as he walked up to the front porch. Mrs. Emerson held out her hand, and he took it. She pulled him in for a hug, her cotton pouf of hair tickled as it kept from moving no matter the weather. Her small frame came up chest high, but when you got on her bad side, her small stature was easy to forget.
"Ms. Emerson, I'm only young to you. I served ten years in the military, and I'm pretty sure that adds at least another twenty years of life experience."
She eyed him. "Hm. Well then, I guess I'm not so much robbing the cradle as I am a cougar. How about you propose? It would save me a fortune on home repairs, and you can have all the cookies you want."
Caleb let out a chest-rumbling laugh. "Mrs. Emerson, what would Ed say?"
She waved her hand. "What does that fool know? Five years, and he still hasn't proposed. Besides, I like the idea of being a cougar."
Caleb nearly choked on air as she curled her fingers into claws and batted at the air, a roaring noise escaped her, and she quirked an eyebrow.
"Mrs. Emerson, I'm a bear, and while I'm pretty sure that's not what you meant, let's put that on hold and work on the toilet situation first." Holding his breath, he pushed down a chuckle. She was a nice old lady. Human and nice. He wasn't about to change that either. Caleb didn't know what turning into a shifter would do to someone so old. He shivered. That was not where Caleb needed his mind to go. The thought of Mrs. Emerson mating with anyone left his stomach churning.
She spun on her slipper-clad heel, and he shook his head following her inside. She'd outlived one husband and apparently, could keep a man ten years younger satisfied. Mentally he shrugged. Her brows knit as he tried to keep his amusement hidden.
"Here, let me get that ma'am." As she passed him into the house, she reached up on tiptoes and patted his cheek. If only everyone appreciated him holding a door.
"Thank you, young man." Flashing a smile only a woman like her could give, there was no mistaking the plotting behind her innocent little expression. "You fix this leaky toilet, and then I think you should reconsider meeting my granddaughter. She's been here for six months, and you're the only bachelor not to ask her out."
Caleb's lips pressed close. The amusement her words usually brought fleeing faster than the enemy from gunfire. "I'm good. But thanks. Besides, didn't you tell me last week that she was seeing some guy from the city? I can't compete with that. The hardware store barely turns a profit, and let's face it; home repairs aren't the most exciting thing."
Caleb loved the town, loved this little woman before him, and loved the reliability of it all. Or he had. A tightness in his chest made him pause only to pick up his pace as he realized a seventy-something woman had already beat him to the top of the stairs.
"Son, are you okay? You're doing that odd quiet thing again. Did you hear me tell you the sound the toilet makes? It's a –"
"Sorry, Ms. Emerson, I just haven't been sleeping well again." He paused and listened. "I can hear the water running in the bowl as we speak, so no need to reenact the noise. I'll have it fixed in about two minutes."
She eyed him as he passed her. "Alright, Caleb. You run up and take care of that. I have a guest coming over shortly."
Stepping wrong, he flinched, the pain a constant reminder of the crap he'd left behind. The hospital he never thought he'd escape. His final deployment leaving him with scars that wouldn't heal. He'd lost his best friend, the knowledge he himself had barely survived made him crave reliability. Even the fact he was a shifter, couldn't heal every wound. He still bled, but this wound couldn't be stitched.
Shaking his head as if he could shake off the past, Caleb remembered why he was in this town and heading to fix an old lady's running toilet. He'd craved adventure, and when he'd turned eighteen, just like his friend, they'd joined the military. His friend had been human. He wasn't. He'd been an orphaned cub placed into the shit foster system in a world that thought they knew all about shifters. They didn't, and he didn't. Some adventure though. Here he was. No less complete, no more knowing what his life meant than he had as a lost teen.
Yeah. After all that, Caleb didn't need to date. Caleb didn't need change. He was good with Frank for a company; the adopted mutt was all he needed. The mastiff-mix gave him something, willpower to move forward, in his life.
The silence of the house, the town, settled around him as he headed to the toilet.
"Fine. Don't say anything. I can take a hint. But you can't stay single forever. You're breaking hearts in this tiny town of ours." The unofficial matchmaker shook her head. "Well, I'll let you be. The tea will be done shortly. You stay for tea, meet my guest, and then I'll pay you."
The floor creaked as she walked away. Caleb needed to get this job done and run away from whoever she wanted to set him up with now. At least he had a real excuse if nothing else worked. He needed to meet whoever was crazy enough to rent the old Lowenstein bed and breakfast. At least that might bring a little life back into town.
Taking a deep breath, he settled into the task in front of him. He couldn't deal with his issues, let alone a woman. At the end of the day, getting attached to things just set you up for loss. That was one pain he could control, and he intended to.
3
The moving truck rumbled to a halt. Marci double-checked the paper next to her and the GPS coordinates on her phone. For all the things she could do, directions were not one of them. Her senses fired. A static itch stronger than anything she'd ever felt racing across her like a drag race that didn't have an end. Okay, so she wasn't finished finding whatever it was she was supposed to, but she needed a break.
She furrowed her brow. The house in front of her wasn't exactly what she'd pictured.
"The ad might not have been recent. At least I don't think that shutter was dangling precariously in the photo." She tilted her head as if changing angles would change everything, including her perspective on life.
Slowly she sat up straight. Nope. It wasn't getting better. The dancing orbs around the house meant that it not only looked like the haunted mansion, but it was haunted. Not quite the HGTV Fixer Upper.
If I drove out here to solve a murder, I will lose it.
A light pecking on her hand brought her back to reality.
"Hazel . I'm not food. We need to work on your loyalty to me. If I died, do you think that someone would let you live this life? No, the second those eggs stop coming, you'd be dinner." Marci rolled her eyes. Well, she'd now just yelled at the one friend she had and threatened her life too. Great start. When had life become such a train wreck?
The noxious burn of her stomach had her wincing as her past resurfaced. All the courses on how to be a proper witch, etiquette for high society, and then she'd gone and opened up her own business. Marci regretted leaving that behind, but at the end of the day, it was just a thing. A place. She made that work; she could make this work. A lightning zap of energy shot through her, and there was little doubt that she was where she needed to be, for now.
Flexing her fingers, then her arms, she needed to get moving, get out of the truck and figure out her next step.
"Okay Hazel , let's go." The chicken went about pecking at the seat and then hopped down on the floor. The rhythmic bawk, cluck, cluck a comfort to the crazy she'd just ventured on. Or maybe it just fits the crazy. She smiled. Who saw this coming? For someone who found things for a living, she hadn't seen a chicken, a haunted house, or being alone, in her future.
"I wish I had your careless attitude."
Blowing out the longest breath she could before her lungs protested, Marci shook her head and yanked the handle of the truck door.
"I'm not sleeping in this truck with you roosting on my damn head again." She reached to pet Hazel , but the chicken was pecking at an empty chip bag. " She shook her head. "You're oddly the cutest chicken ever; you know that? Who's a good girl?" Her voice raised several octaves towards the end. She stared. The chicken raised its head with the bag over her. Marci figured if her clucking remained steady then the chicken was okay. She shrugged.
A creak echoed off the hills surrounding the town as she pushed the begrudging door open. Everything was quiet here, and that unnerved her. What could she possibly need to find here, what the hell did her magic want?
She swung her legs to the side and stayed there. Once she left the truck, that was it, she was here, and this was her reality.
"This is nothing like the city. Can you smell the pine, Hazel?" Glancing back, the chicken had escaped the bag and was back to pecking at a thread.
A picturesque, turquoise sky kissed the mountain, and a breeze shifted, coaxing her to breathe it in. A knot within her released, allowing room for both the fear of and the need for change coming.
Well. You won't be hard up for open space." She nearly jumped out of her skin as the sound of the horn echoed off mountains, trees, and a few buildings. Birds squawked in response, but no one seemed to notice or mind the noise.
"For crap's sake." Marci spit out chicken feathers as Hazel's fluffy rear met her face. "Get off the steering wheel, you useless chicken."
Murmuring under her breath, she jumped down from the truck and reached up to pet Hazel. "No more heart attacks."
Her battered heart didn't need any more excitement for a while. "Come on. Let's go. Someone is supposed to be here to meet us. I hope." Reaching into her pocket, she checked the phone. "We're a little early." She patted her palms against her thighs.
What exactly was she supposed to do? The static of magic marched up her arms begging for attention. Turning her head in the direction of the thin threads, her eyes landed on the hardware store. Squinting, she tried to figure out what the heck that meant. The only thing she wanted right now was to settle in, or maybe coffee. Glancing down the street, left then right she could make out a few businesses and what looked like a coffee shop. "Oh thank God." No one lived without coffee.
Sliding her phone into her jeans pocket, she turned to the clucking in the truck.
"What exactly do I do with you?" Leaning into the truck, she studied Hazel . "It's too bad no one saw your value. I guess we both have that in common."
"Miss?"
She jumped, knocking her head on the door in the process.
"Good Lord. Ouch. Damn it." Her chest fluttered. Her hand pressed down over her heart. For a moment the world shimmered around her. She blinked several times. There was magic here. Lots and lots of magic. Rubbing at her head, she turned around as if an invisible hand pushed her. Her skin started to itch.
Breathe.
"Oh," she said as her head traded the door for a hard chest. Apparently, fate intended to knock sense into her one way or another.
She looked up and up. Blinking against the late afternoon sun, she took him in. Huge.
"You okay," he asked?
She blinked again. Her senses off balance, her magic pulling her as if the mountain of a man in front of her was the exact reason she was here. That made no sense. She didn't need a man, and nor did she want one.
He rocked back on his heels.
"I'll take your silence as a yes?"
"Yes, fine. I guess." She was fine. Maybe. She tingled everywhere like her senses were running wild into a supernatural landslide knocking her on her ass. Her jaw ached, and she tried to relax. She flexed her hands trying to work it out of her.
Under her breath, she said, "Hazel , you're the worst guard chicken ever."
"Are chickens normally known for their guarding skills?" His head cocked to the side. "Why, exactly do you have a chicken?"
"She's a pet. I doubt they are good at guarding much, but I don't know. I just inherited her."
"Okay. Inherited? There's a whole lot I want to ask, but let's just come back to the chicken later. I assume you're Marci? The person here for the inn?"
Marci eyed the man. "I wasn't trying to announce anything." Folding her hands in front of her, she eyed him.
Good looking guys didn't possess anything special, other than they didn't have to try hard. She'd need a mental head slap later for thinking he was good looking. Right then and there whoever this guy was, he was too good looking, and that wouldn't work for her. But damn it, he had her magic singeing every one of her nerves.
"You doing okay?"
"Yup. Fine, thanks. Why?"
She watched him with scrutiny and regretted it. The flannel he wore stretched across a broad chest, pulling across biceps, and she had the thought that when the hell did flannel become sexy? A spark of magic hit the air and exploded into a small sprinkling of tiny sparks.
"Is that normal?"
Marci shook her hand. "No. Wait, you can see that?"
He nodded. "This place does some strange things with magic."
"I've never had that happen before. How embarrassing." Marci took her hand in the other and squeezed. It's like her magic just prematurely went off, and she just realized how her boyfriend in high school must have felt.
She snorted, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Swallowing her embarrassed laughter and shoving down all those random emotions she didn't have time for, she stood up straight. Emotions bottled up again; she found her words. This was her blank slate. Her magic sparked up again, and Marci looked back towards the man. Her magic was telling her something.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Did you lose something or need help with anything?"
His head cocked to the side. "Odd question, but no. Not that I know of. This place, the inn was in need of someone to run it. I'm good though."
"You're sure? I can't figure you out."
He raised a hand and scratched at his goatee.
"If you can figure out a way to stop the crazy women around here from trying to find me a mate, I guess that would be helpful."
She eyed him. "A mate?"
He bit his bottom lip. "Yeah. Too many old ladies here. Busybodies."
She nodded. "Uh huh. I'm guessing you're a shifter then?"
"Yes. Does that matter? You're a witch. Now that we have that out of the way."
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "It doesn't matter. I'm just trying to understand you. Or rather me."
She'd helped plenty of shifters, humans, witches, a few Fae, elves, and anything else. She'd never had her magic jump out like lightning in need of a metal rod though.
She wiggled hers as if she could shake it off; like the magic would fall off like cookie crumbs. Nothing helped. "So, I. Hi, I'm Marci."
He smiled, a dimple playing at his cheek. He seemed nice. Opposite of her ex. Opposite of most men she knew.
"Marci, nice to meet you. Glad you made the trip out here. We don't usually get a lot of people this time of year." He held out his hand. "I'm Caleb. We've been emailing back and forth."
She nodded. "Right. Of course. Sorry about the horn earlier. It's Hazel. She's not well trained."
He laughed, and the sound almost made her smile, almost. She liked the deep velvet of his voice.
"It's fine. You wouldn't get far in this town with or without the horn. You do know chickens aren't all that trainable, right?" He smiled, and her eyes narrowed.
She fought the urge to get closer to him. Every second ticking by seemed to make the need to be closer worse. Did he feel this too?
Searching her senses, she tried to place her metaphorical finger on why suddenly everything in her pointed to the stranger in front of her. What did he have, or maybe it's what he didn't have?
The deep-rough of his voice pulled her out and back to the present. He also took an obvious step backward.
"So, right. I own the hardware store across the street, and I have the keys to the inn."
Magic or not, she couldn't ignore the late afternoon light as it sparkled off his emerald eyes.
He's just so pretty. She blinked twice. Look away. Look away.
"Hardware store? So why are you here then? I mean with the inn?"
He fidgeted, finally hooking his thumbs in his pockets.
"We help each other here. The Lowensteins were kind to me when I first got here; in return, I helped them out."
Stealing a look at the house again, she asked, "why did they leave?"
Snowy With A Chance 0f Mating (Move Over Fate Book 3) Page 2