by Amy Boyles
Let alone one who was a witch.
“You know.” Dewy giggled. “I’ve heard interesting rumors about y’all. How you’ve worked magic in front of regular people without getting in trouble with the council. It’s pretty interesting stuff. Mmm hmm.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Dewy flipped a curl from her eyes. “We all know the penalty for working magic in front of nonmagics—death.”
I clicked my tongue, trying to ignore the creepy vibe I was getting from this witch. “Yeah, well. We slipped up a couple of times—once when I was teaching Sera how to bake using her magic. The pots and pans floated out into the street and half the town had to have their memories erased. But it was an accident.”
“Besides,” Sera added. “We were brand-new witches. That’s one reason why Councilwoman Gladiolas didn’t punish us.”
I snapped my fingers. “That’s right. The law states that you have to be working magic in front of regular people on purpose. We never did that.” I laughed nervously. “We’re just plain old morons.”
Dewy smiled tightly but said nothing.
Across the street, Roman’s black SUV rolled to a stop. He killed the engine and slipped out.
All gazes shifted to the window.
“Who is that?” Dewy cooed.
Roman waited for a car to pass; then he crossed the tarmac. With his long strides, it only took an instant for him to reach the shop. He opened the door and slid his sunglasses to the top of his head.
“Hey,” he said in that husky voice of his. The one that made my bones fizzle.
“Hey.” The three of us replied in unison.
His gaze settled on me. My breath hitched as his green eyes barbed my heart to my spinal cord.
Dewy fanned herself. “Oh my gosh, I totally thought a Greek god just entered the building. You’re not a god, are you?”
His eyes stayed glued on me. “Not last I checked.”
“Thank goodness, because I’d need to go home and change into something more appropriate.” Dewy rose and extended her hand. Roman slid his gaze from me to her. “Dewy Dewberry. I’m opening the shop across the street.” She slinked forward, brushing the top half of her body against him. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Did my breast touch you? That pesky thing. Has a mind of its own. In fact, the other one does, too. Sometimes they just can’t help themselves.”
Roman stepped away from her projectile boobs. “Roman Bane,” he said curtly. “I work for the police department.”
Her ruby lips split into a smile. “So I call you when I need protection.”
“Roman’s busy protecting my family,” I nearly shouted. “There’s lots of other guys, though. There’s Steve Howie. He’s nice. Writes a lot of speeding tickets. Yep. Plenty of men on the force who’d be happy to help out if you get scared by a possum or something. In fact, last I heard we were having a hard time with hoboes hanging around Main. Isn’t that right, Sera? Didn’t I hear something about hoboes?”
Everyone in the room stared at me openmouthed. You could have heard a feather drop.
I nudged Sera. “Hoboes?”
Sera was such a great sister. She kept her face masked as she said, “Yes, I heard we’ve had some hobo problems. Be sure to lock your door.”
Roman rolled his eyes.
“Did you identify the body?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not yet. But we’re working on it.”
Dewy grabbed Roman’s arm. “A body? What happened?”
“We found an unidentified person earlier today.”
Dewy slipped her hips toward Roman’s, shoving her other breast into his rib cage. “Do you think I should be worried?”
Roman peeled her off him and said, “There’s nothing for anyone to worry about.”
She grabbed him again. “But if there is?”
His face crimsoned. Roman unhooked her claw and said, “We’ll let the public know first thing. Trust me.”
She gave him a seductive smile. “Oh, I do. I can already tell that you’re someone I can trust with my body.” Dewy shook her head. “I mean my life.”
I stopped myself from punching her in the face.
Roman glanced at me. “I wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
I shrugged. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
He jiggled the car keys in his hand. “I need to go check on Boo. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“How is he?” I asked.
“Hanging in there.”
Boo was Richard Bane, Roman’s father. We’d found him a couple months ago in the forest behind Castle Witch. Before he surfaced, he’d been missing for nearly twenty years. When we discovered Boo he looked like a wild man, wearing little more than buckskin. He remembered who he was, but not much more than that.
And he insisted we call him Boo.
Don’t ask me. I couldn’t figure it out. Neither could Roman, but we went along with it.
Roman left and Dewy licked her lips. “Boy, is he some hot stuff. Mmm hmm. I mean totally super hot. Girls, I may need some ice to chill down my girlie parts.”
Um. Okay.
Sera cleared her throat. “He sure is. And he’s all Dylan’s.”
Dewy’s mouth curved into a smirk. Though the smirk looked sarcastic, those wide eyes made Barbie look totally ditsy. “Oh my gosh. Wow. All yours, huh?”
An uncomfortable giggle bubbled from my mouth. “Yeah. All mine.”
She looked me up and down like royalty sizing up a peasant. “He must be crazy about you, then. Must totally be in love with you. He is, right? In love with you? I mean, I couldn’t tell—what with my breasts getting all in the way and everything—but he is, isn’t he?”
I cleared my throat. “He’s said it a time or two.”
“Gosh, a guy like that, you must be doing all you can to hang onto him. Mmm hmm. Lots of women would throw themselves at a man that good-looking.”
You don’t say.
Dewy swiped a finger over the rim of her lips. “I’d totally make sure he knew I loved him. Mmm hmm.”
“Telling a guy you love him doesn’t give you any security,” Sera said.
Dewy tapped a finger to her lips. “This Roman’s different. He likes to be told he’s loved. I can tell.”
My jaw fell to the floor. Before I had a chance to compose myself and think of some sort of coherent reply, the door swung open.
Jenny Butts entered. She pumped her hands as she greeted us. “Y’all. Y’all. Y’all. There’s a new store opening. Have y’all seen it?”
“Pretty sure we just did,” Sera said drily.
Dewy waved an immaculately manicured hand. “Hey, Jenny.”
Jenny fluffed her blonde Marilyn Monroe Curls. “Dewy! So good to see you. I didn’t realize you knew the Apels.”
“We just met,” I snapped.
“We sure did,” Dewy said. “And I know I’m going to love my new neighbors. We’re gonna be just like sisters.”
“Sure,” I said. If you wanted to throw your sister off a cliff.
“In fact, we were getting all sisterly a minute ago. I was telling Dylan how I would be all over my hunky boyfriend, making sure he knew I loved him. That was, if I had a super-hot boyfriend like that Roman of hers.”
Jenny grabbed her throat as a ball of laughter tumbled from her lips. “Dylan? Tell a guy she loves him? I’d love to see that. Dylan might have a boyfriend, but she swore off men years ago.”
“That’s not true, Jenny,” I said.
“In fact, she hasn’t dated anyone since Colten Blacklock broke her heart in high school.”
“I’m standing right here, you know,” I said.
Jenny scoffed. “It’s not like this is private information. Everyone knows that about you and Colten.”
“They do now,” I said.
Jenny shot me an ultra-fake smile. “Anyway, I’m glad to see that you met the Apels, Dewy. Want to go have some lunch?”
Dewy brightened at that. “Lunch sounds fant
astic. I’ve worked up a real appetite getting to know the folks in town.”
Jenny cinched her coat. “Great. You can ride with me. I’m parked out front.”
Dewy rose and shrugged her coat back on. “I’ll catch up with you in a sec.”
Jenny gave a wiggly wave and left.
Good riddance.
Dewy threaded her fingers through her sexy curls. She flashed me that wide-eyed doe look of hers. “I think you asked about my witch power. Is that right? Didn’t you ask?”
Sera clicked her tongue. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Not sure I want to know,” I whispered under my breath.
Sera shot me a look of death. I smiled sweetly at her.
Dewy dug the heel of her boot into the floor. “I design clothes. You know that already. Mmm hmm.” She pursed her lips. “But there’s totally like one thing that separates my clothes from yours.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
Dewy swung open the front door. “Well. Yeah. Um hmm. So you see, my clothes do this one teensy weensy thing. I can’t help it, but they do. They kind of seduce people.”
“Oookayy,” I said. “What exactly does that mean?”
Her lips coiled into a devilish grin. “Well, uh-huh. Yeah. That means I can totally seduce whoever I want. All I have to do is wrap them up in something I made.”
She gave an innocent finger wave and said, “Toodles.” The door slammed shut as she left.
I turned to Sera. “I have a weird feeling about her.”
“I’ve got the same one,” Sera said.
“So you’re thinking what I’m thinking?”
Her blue eyes darkened. “Yep. Dewy Dewberry wants one thing.”
I grimaced. “And that is?”
“To seduce your boyfriend.”
THREE
We had a big family supper planned for that night. Roman wanted to get Boo interacting with more people, and I enjoyed food, so it seemed like a good idea. We didn’t have large dinners too often, so getting folks together was always nice—especially when it was near romantic holidays and involved boyfriends.
“Reid, would you please stop hogging the hairbrush?” Sera said.
Reid had been standing in the bathroom for fifteen minutes. She’d run the brush through her hair for most of that time, I was pretty sure.
“I need to make my locks shine,” Reid whined.
“Then put some styling serum on them,” Sera snapped. “It’s my turn. Brock will be here any minute.”
Reid rolled her eyes. “Great. The monkey king arrives. Is he bringing his monkey entourage?”
Sera sniffed. “I don’t know. I doubt it. And what’s with you acting like a little girl? My boyfriend is king of the winged monkeys. Yours is just a regular guy.”
That was true. All of it. Sera had met Brock Odom a couple of months ago. The moment they laid eyes on each other it was instant love. I know. I was there.
On the other hand Rick Beck’s claim to fame was that he looked awesome shirtless. I also know this because that’s how he mowed his lawn in the spring and the summer and the fall. Sans shirt. The view, if I do say so myself, was spectacular.
Hey, both guys had their perks if you asked me.
The doorbell rang. Sera scowled at Reid. “That better not be Brock. I need at least five more minutes.”
I patted her shoulder. “If it’s him, I’ll offer some monkey juice to keep him occupied.”
“Very funny. Monkey juice doesn’t exist.”
“I know. It was a joke.”
I bounded through the craftsman cottage we shared with my grandmother and her bodyguard, Nan. The dining room table was set, and the whole house smelled like country cooking—cornbread, fried okra, turnip greens—you name it, we had it bubbling either on the stove or in the oven.
Grandma popped in from the kitchen with a World War II helmet on.
“Worried that the food is going to attack?” I asked.
“No. Worried I need it for whoever’s at the door.”
I hooked both hands beneath the lip of the helmet and gently tugged it off. “It’s only the guests we invited. Remember? I don’t think anyone’s arriving who wants to start another witch war.”
She fluffed the ends of her triangle-shaped head of hair. “You never know, Dylan. It pays to be prepared.”
“Let’s answer the door and see who it is. If it’s someone dangerous, I’ll return the hat.”
Grandma nodded in agreement.
When I opened the door, the entire guest list stood on the other side as if they’d carpooled together.
Brock Odom, monkey king extraordinaire, wore a black motorcycle jacket and jeans. Dark hair brushed his shoulders. He tapped a finger to his forehead. “Hey, Dylan. Good to see y’all,” he said in that buttery voice of his. I swear, the sound sent tingles up my spine. There was no telling what it did to Sera.
Rick Beck stood behind him. A smile beamed from his crystal-blue eyes. His brown hair was short. Muscles rippled through his tight sweater. “Evening, ladies. Thanks for inviting me to dinner.”
“Thanks for coming,” I said. “Come on in.”
Rick held up a cell phone. “Reid left this in my car.”
My sisters thundered through the house and into the room.
“Did you find my cell phone?” Reid asked breathlessly.
“Right were you left it. On the floorboard of my car.”
Reid flashed him a huge smile. “Thank you.”
Rick would be well taken care of by Reid, and Sera would snatch up Brock in about two seconds.
Grandma worried the rope of pearls wrapped around her neck. “Roman, it’s good to see you. Boo, I’m so glad you decided to have dinner with us.”
Boo Bane wore his silver hair long. Pictures of him from his youth showed a man with short hair. But something about the wild had changed him. He wore long locks and a beard he refused to shave. For as scraggly as he looked, the man was all kitten.
Boo took Grandma’s hands. “Thank you for having me. Have I been here before?”
Oh yeah, Boo didn’t remember much from his past.
Grandma squinted. “Not that I recall.”
Boo swept by us, leaving Roman and me alone. Roman entwined his hand in mine. “You look beautiful.”
He nuzzled the top of my head. A moan edged up the back of my throat. “I look the same as when you saw me earlier.” Minus the fake boobs, meaning Dewy Dewberry.
“No. You look better. Smell better.”
“The wonders of soap and water.”
He inhaled. “Keep doing it.”
I pulled him to the side so that we stood in front of the antique cherry buffet. “I wanted to give you your Valentine’s present.”
A serious expression crossed his angular face. “That seems suspicious.”
My heart pounded with worry. “What? Why?”
Roman threw me a look of mock concern. “Giving me my present early? It must be something horrible. If I hate it, you have time to buy me another one. A better one.”
I poked his ribs. “It’s not horrible.”
He flinched, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Must be worse than horrible. What’s worse than horrible?”
“You’re worse than horrible.”
Roman clutched his heart. “You can’t mean it.”
I giggled. Roman gave me a thousand-watt smile, and my muscle control melted. I inhaled his musky scent and opened one of the drawers. I handed him a slim, rectangular box.
He glanced down. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Now there’s the response I was looking for.”
He slid a sinewy hand over the crimson bow. “I don’t have your gift with me.”
“You don’t have to get me anything.”
He glanced at the gold heart sitting at the bottom of my throat. “Right. I’m going to have to work hard to show up your Christmas gift.”
I fingered the delicate heart with th
e single diamond resting in its stem. “This was a great Christmas present. Best one I ever got.”
He glanced at the box. Dark smudgy lashes framed his gorgeous green eyes. “Maybe I should open this on Valentine’s.”
“No,” I nearly shrieked. “Would you stop being so difficult and just open it?”
“As you wish.” He lifted the lid, revealing a royal-blue silk tie.
I fisted my hands and pressed them against my cheeks. “Do you like it?”
A slow smile curled on his lips. “You made this?”
I nodded nervously.
He lifted the tie from the box and ran his fingers over the silky surface. “It’s going to match the dress you’re wearing to the dance,” he said, realizing its purpose.
I nodded again.
He wrapped it around his neck and proceeded to create a perfect tie.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m wearing it.”
“Now?”
He nodded. “Now. I love it so much I don’t want to put it back in the box. Besides,” he said, glancing at his reflection in the mirror hanging over the buffet, “it feels good. I feel good. I love it.”
I scoffed. “You’re just saying that.”
He turned and entwined his fingers in mine. “It’s the best Valentine’s gift I’ve ever got. Hands down.”
The urge to have a serious public display of affection tugged at me. So instead of embarrassing myself, I straightened the expression on my face and said, “Don’t spill anything on it. I’m not cleaning it for you.”
“You don’t look like a maid to me.”
I encircled my hand over his arm. “Come on. Let’s go get some dinner.”
Grandma had made rib-sticking food—with Sera’s help, of course. The of course part of that was Southern cornbread dressing with chicken. Delicious. I’d just plopped a scoop down on my plate when the bell rang again.
My eyes met Sera’s. “Are we missing someone?”
“I don’t think so.”
I scooted back my chair and crossed to the door. I opened it to find my paternal grandmother, Milly Jones, on the other side. She wore a puffy coat zipped up to her chin and a wool hat yanked down to her eyes. Her usual shoulder decoration of Polly Parrot, however, was absent. Instead a boa constrictor was wrapped around her neck like a scarf. It had scales the color of bone with pale yellow markings. Its tongue shot out as it tasted the air. My stomach queased.