The Enchanted: Council of Seven Shifter Romance Collection

by Juniper Hart

  “Shoot, kiddo.”

  “Do you know who Arden Morrow is?” The elderly shopkeeper shrugged his shoulders, and Gena felt a wave of disappointment course through her.

  Of course he doesn’t know who Arden Morrow is, she thought miserably. He probably hasn’t seen a movie since Nosferatu came out.

  “Friend of yours?” Max asked helpfully, and Gena shook her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tabloid paper with the actor’s picture on it. She grabbed it and showed it to Max.

  “This is Arden Morrow. Is he someone you recognize coming in here?”

  To Gena’s relief, Max’s milky blue eyes lit up with recognition, and he nodded.

  “I thought he said his name was Allen!” Max exclaimed. “I guess my hearing’s going, too. Yeah, I know that guy. Hey, lookie! He’s famous! How come I never noticed his mug on that paper before?”

  Gena did not respond to the question, but she suspected his age had a lot to do with it. Max was probably ninety years old. I wonder if he knows Millie. The thought was unbidden and strange. Gena shoved it aside and focused on the task at hand.

  “He’s a very famous actor,” Gena agreed instead. “Do you know where he’s staying?”

  Again, Max nodded, and Gena almost fainted at her good fortune. “He bought the Keller farm off rural route 54.”

  “He bought it?” Gena echoed. “That place has been empty for probably ten years!”

  Max nodded. “Yes, ma’am, ever since Keefer Keller kicked the bucket in ‘08. Your friend paid almost double what it’s worth, but now that I see he’s famous, I guess he can afford it, right?”

  “I guess so,” Gena replied. On impulse, she jumped onto the counter and gave the old man a kiss on his cheek. He laughed in surprise.

  “Now don’t you start lighting fires in these old bones, Gena. I can’t take much excitement with this faulty ticker.”

  “Not to mention Elsie will murder me in my sleep if she catches me with my paws on you,” Gena joked back.

  “I don’t think she’s ever had the opportunity to be jealous in the seventy years we’ve been married,” Max said mischievously. “I think it’s high time we put that to the test.”

  They both laughed, and Gena headed toward the door. “Hey, Max…”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Do you know a woman named Millie? Millie Aldwin?”

  Max shrugged. Disappointment welled inside Gena’s heart.

  “Can’t say I do,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”

  Gena shook her head, feeling foolish. Even if he had met her, Max probably wouldn’t remember. He was the wrong person to ask.

  “She’s a patient, and I’m hoping to locate her family.”

  “Ah. Sorry, girlie. Haven’t met her.”

  “No worries.” Gena paused and looked at him. “Also, Max…” He raised a bushy brow in question, waiting for her to finish her sentence. “If anyone else comes around asking about Arden, you probably shouldn’t tell them anything. There are a lot of reporters around here looking for him and I imagine he came here for privacy.”

  “Oh, Gena, you know me better than that. I wouldn’t tell them nothing.”

  Gena smiled at him, trying to remember what he looked like when he was younger, but she couldn’t reconcile him with a more youthful face. He had always been an old man in her mind, and the realization made her sad. We’re all just going to age and die.

  “Thanks, Max. See you later!”

  From Max’s store, she had made her way over to the old Keller Farm, planning her speech. In her head, she sounded beseeching and pleasant, but the housekeeper had put a damper on her well-rehearsed spiel by not allowing her to see Arden.

  After the fiasco with him, Gena had then slunk back home, disappointed with her encounter.

  They will be gone tomorrow, she told herself, but she could not sleep, knowing that they perched on the curb of her house, waiting for her to simply make a movement. And there they were the following morning, and reprieve didn’t seem on the horizon.

  Pouring coffee into a mug, she unlocked her cell. She had sixteen text messages and four missed calls. So, I guess the entire town has heard now. Let’s see who texted me: Adriana, George, Amber, Sylvie, and… Chad!

  She almost dropped the phone into her strong, black cup of joe in her haste to open the message. Immediately, her eyes filled with tears as she read the words.

  Didn’t take you long to move on, huh?

  She slapped the phone onto the table, willing the screen to crack. How dare he make me feel like I did something wrong? He can leave me here without a second thought and then somehow think he has the right to judge my life. What am I talking about? I didn’t even do anything! This madness has to end. I’m already losing my mind.

  Gena didn’t want to see her cell phone or speak to another person for the rest of her life. The four missed calls were from her mother, and she could only imagine what the voicemails would say if she ever mustered the will to pick them up. She didn’t have the energy to deal with this, but what could she do? As Arden had said, they could only wait for it to blow over.

  He didn’t have to be so damn smug, though. Even if he was right, he could have had a bit more compassion. Instead, he had just stared at her, laughing. If Gena were a worse person, she would march out there right then and tell those reporters exactly where to find Arden Morrow, have them run him back to Los Angeles and the hell out of there.

  Reluctantly, Gena glanced at the dollar store clock hanging above the back door. She had run out of time. She had to leave for work if she didn’t want to be late. Tying up her shoes, she pulled a dark hoodie around her head and glanced out the window into the backyard. Confident that no reporters had snuck onto the property, she carefully slipped into the dark morning hours and over the neighbor’s fence.

  I guess this is the way I’m getting to work from now on, she thought, shaking her head in anger.

  Malik shook his head and smothered a smile. Where does she come up with these headlines? He wondered, tucking the magazine under his arm. The latest one read, “Lost Lover Outside La La Land.”

  He picked up the paper cup filled with coffee and finished the last sip before crumpling it in his large palm. Searching for a garbage can, he admitted to himself that the town of Apple Orchard was rather quaint. Try as he might, he could not see a single piece of trash on the roads.

  Despite its ridiculously utopian name, it certainly does have its charm, Malik thought, grinning. He had just finished breakfast at a small café in the heart of downtown, and he realized how much more peaceful it was than the hectic Starbucks he was drawn to in Los Angeles.

  From his spot on the patio, he watched as couples strolled arm-in-arm down the cobblestone streets and singles walked their well-groomed dogs. The core contained the standard post office, market, hardware store, and bakery, but there was also a sprinkling of eclectic businesses. On one side of the street, he saw an art supply and comic book stores, while the other end boasted a dog groomer and nail salon. Judging by the cars and clothing of the people, Malik could tell that Apple Orchard was not a wealthy community, but it was thriving and calm.

  The babies don’t even cry and scream here, he noticed as a mother pushing a double stroller passed by. She nodded amiably and smiled, yet another foreign concept to Malik. In LA, if someone smiled at you, there was a good chance he was packing and you were about to hand over your wallet.

  On impulse, Malik checked to see if his was still concealed in his pocket. Content it was where he had last had it, he relaxed, rolling his dark eyes at his own paranoia.

  Yes, LA can vacuum the trust out of most people. I can see why Arden would find this so appealing, but he will grow bored with this life. I am stressing out for no reason. The man has Hollywood in his blood now. He can’t just walk away from it. It is not that simple.

  Placing the paper cup in the garbage, Malik turned back to seek out his car. The rented BMW was parked across from the hospital beca
use, to Malik’s complete astonishment, parking was free in that location. Free parking… across from a hospital. Are we even on Earth right now?

  He made his way down Main Street and up the hill toward Hodgeson Memorial Hospital. Drawing nearer, his heart began to pound slightly. He didn’t specifically know what had triggered it, but a warning was signaling in his head.

  Climbing the hill, he rounded the bend and froze, his veins sloshing in ice water. Milling through the injured and ill were dozens of press members, hanging around, smoking, and laughing. Malik continued past them, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. They were obscenely out of place among the blue-collar folk of Apple Orchard, and Malik felt dirty simply watching them invade the space. He had learned somewhere that Gena Averson was a nurse at the hospital, a position she had only recently acquired. There was no doubt in his mind that the paparazzi were waiting for the girl to finish her shift.

  This isn’t good. They shouldn’t be following her to work, not when she works at a hospital! You should say something… But if you do, they’ll just end up following you back to Arden’s. No, Arden can’t afford to be bothered by the press right now. He’s already too stressed out. The girl can handle it for a few days. She’s a nurse. Nurses are tough. It’s just like Arden said, this will all settle in a few days.

  Yet as he got in his car and drove away, Malik could not help feeling deeply ashamed. It was for the greater good, the means to an end. However, it did little to alleviate his guilt. After all, he was the one feeding Shari Jesper’s all the dirt he could find to keep the story alive.

  7

  “I don’t know what to do! Please tell me what to do!” Gena begged, blinking back tears of defeat and frustration. “Anything you say, I promise I’ll do it!”

  Mittens stared back at her, unblinking, and Gena released a grunt.

  “I should have gotten a dog!” she screamed at the feline. Mittens finally meowed and stalked away as if his feelings were hurt. Gena began to pace the living room.

  This is out of control. Is he doing this to me on purpose? she asked herself. It seemed as if she had become the object of a cruel joke orchestrated by Arden Morrow, but she had no idea why. This is a really far place to take it just because I answered your stupid phone. It’s not like I stole it, and even if I did, you can’t ruin my life over that!

  The paparazzi had found out where she worked, and to make matters worse, Shari Jespers had written another article in Physique, one which showed still footage of her leaving Arden’s house the day she had begged him to help her. The only people who knew she was there were Max, Arden, and the housekeeper. Unless she had been was followed. How would she know? Those vultures could be anywhere. Maybe that was how they had found out where she worked; someone had been hiding in the backyard and had followed her to work.

  It had been a week, and Gena had not slept. She was growing paranoid under the excessive scrutiny she was facing. Unintentionally and worn down by lack of sleep, she was neglecting small details at work, details that she would never have missed normally. She was both distracted and exhausted. While none of her co-workers said anything directly to her, she saw them whispering and staring at her when they thought she could not see. In reality, Gena didn’t care if they wanted to gossip. She had never been one to look for friends, much preferring her own company to that of cliques. She had maintained a polite and professional relationship with her co-workers, but she had never made friends enough to go for a drink after work. She had always found a stronger kinship to her dying patients than to those with whom she shared the uniform.

  More and more, she found herself hanging out in Millie Aldwin’s room, talking to the ever-sleeping woman. Gena was sure she couldn’t hear her, but somehow, speaking to her gave the younger woman solace. She was so alone otherwise.

  What troubled her the most was the fact she was in her probationary phase at the hospital. If she lost the opportunity to work in the ICU, her options would diminish substantially. She would be forced to consider private care, something she had no interest in pursuing. The money and hours would be unpredictable at best, and if she was let go from the hospital, the word would get around town quickly. Finding employment would become nearly impossible in Apple Orchard.

  She couldn’t do anything to jeopardize it. Why did this have to happen to her now? Maybe she could ask them nicely to come back in three months.

  So far, the press had stayed outside the walls of the hospital, but Gena had a feeling that the sense of security would be short lived.

  How long will it be before some Lois Lane wannabe runs in screaming, “Geronimo!”? she wondered nervously. Her stress level was through the roof, and she was constantly sure she was going to break in half, her shoulders were in such a state of tension.

  That night, she stared at the ceiling, willing it to crash down on her head. Chad had not texted again, and Gena had not found a way to explain to him what had happened. She tried to tell herself she didn’t care, that Chad was the past, and that the nurses could wag their tongues all day long, but she still could not shake the deep void in her soul.

  Tomorrow would be a better day. Tomorrow, she would walk out the front door with her head held high and show them that they were barking up the wrong tree. She would simply pretend they were not there and go about her day. She would pretend she was a Hollywood star. They must become impervious to having cameras flashing in their faces all the time. She could do that.

  When four-thirty a.m. came, though, Gena still had not slept, and as she dragged herself into the shower, the feeling of dread made her physically sick to her stomach.

  Don’t throw up, she coaxed herself. This is only your nerves. Just think about how silly this is. You’re upset because people think you’re sleeping with the most famous actor in Hollywood. Oh, boo hoo. There are worse things to be known for.

  After all, Arden Morrow was a beautiful specimen. She had been stunned at just how much more attractive he was in person than she’d ever seen on screen. Truthfully, before all this, she had harbored a celebrity crush for him. Not anymore, because now she knew he was a jerk.

  Grinning through her misery, she jumped out of the shower and began to dress. You’re off for two days starting tomorrow. Maybe you can hop on a bus out of town for a couple of days. Go visit Mom in Vancouver. When you get home, get online and see about cheap hotels.

  While the thought of listening to her mother lecture her for two days was repulsive, the thought of getting out of Apple Orchard was delicious. There really was no one else to visit or anywhere else to go with no money in her bank account. Visiting her mother was better than being stuck there, staring at those bloodsucking ticks all day. Guaranteed, if she tried to leave, they would follow her. Perhaps she could lead them to her mother’s retirement community and shake them there. They could sit around playing shuffleboard with Andrea and Mr. Wilkins.

  Feeling slightly more confident, Gena went to the front door. Before her hand touched the knob, she shook her head and altered her direction. She was still going out the back door.

  So much for holding my head high, she thought grimly.

  “There’s another article?”

  “Yes, Mr. Morrow. I thought, because you wanted to see the first one, you might want to see this one, too.”

  “I do, Shawna, thanks.” Arden accepted it from her fingers and began to scan it. He felt his jaw lock as he recognized the outside of his property.

  “Anything else you need, sir?”

  “Yes. Did you give this image to the press?”

  Shawna’s face turned waxy, and she shook her head vehemently. “Of course not, Mr. Morrow! When would I have taken that?”

  “You wouldn’t have taken the photo. It’s from the security cameras.”

  Puzzled, Shawna leaned in to look. “How can you tell?” she asked, still shaking her head. “There are no numbers on it or anything.”

  “I can tell because I know how my security cameras are focused.” Shawna loo
ked at him, unsure if she was still required to defend herself or not.

  “I didn’t do it!” she insisted. Arden sighed. “I haven’t even seen the AV room.”

  “There isn’t an AV room, and I believe you. Thankfully, there are no distinguishable characteristics of the house in the picture. You can go, Shawna. Thanks for the article.” He read through the inflammatory words and shook his head disbelievingly.

  Who reads and writes this crap? he asked himself. Apparently, lots of people, because his phone had been exploding since Shari Jespers had begun her quest to ruin his reputation. He looked at the picture of Gena again and questioned if Shawna was right. It did not look like proper security footage. If not for the angle, Arden would have had no reason to question from where it had come. The only other person who could have sent it was Malik, unless those trolls were on his property. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened.

  Why are you even wasting any time thinking about this? Maybe Malik is right; you have too much free time on your hands now, and you’re obsessing over stupid stuff. You have been the subject of tabloid stupidity in the past. How is this any different?

  Arden admitted to himself that he likely would not have given any of it a second thought if Gena Averson had not appeared at his door. He had not been able to shake the image of her, arms flailing dramatically. She was like a furious fairy. He had never been so enchanted by watching someone before in his life. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought she was a part of the Enchanted. He tried to picture the level of fury she would reach with the publication of a second article.

  I would give good money to be there and see that, he thought wryly.

  The front door opened, and Malik slipped inside, his face pinched in deep concentration.

  “Hey,” Arden called. “How was downtown Apple Orchard?” Malik did not respond and wandered distractedly toward the kitchen. “Mal?” he called again, but the agent did not acknowledge him.