The Detective Wins The Witch (Nocturne Falls Book 10)

by Kristen Painter

  “Right. It’s up to the man you were buying them for. Any chance you talked to him yet?”

  “How do you know it was a man?”

  He shrugged. “Good guess?”

  “Very good.” She gave him a look as if she wasn’t sure about his answer. “I did talk to him. He was in here right before you were.” She grimaced like the next thing she had to tell him wasn’t going to be such good news. “He said he’d sell you the pieces for a thousand dollars.”

  Internally, Wyatt winced. But it wasn’t his money. Suzanne wanted those pieces and was willing to pay. “Done.”

  Marigold’s brows shot up. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “I should tell you that they’re in a few more pieces than they were originally. The guy I was buying them for dropped the box when he was getting them out of the back of my SUV.”

  Wyatt shrugged. “I don’t see that it makes a difference. Broken is broken, right?”

  “Right.”

  He took the coffees out of the bag. “I had them dump a bunch of creamers and sugars in here since I don’t know how you like your coffee.”

  “That’s great. It was really nice of you to bring this.” She pulled a tall chair from around the counter and positioned it at the end for him. “There. Have a seat.”

  “While you stand? No, thanks.”

  “I have to stand. I have to be able to wait on customers in case someone comes in.”

  He looked around the otherwise empty shop. “Yes, I can see the crowd is nearly out of control.”

  Her smirk looked less than happy. “I actually have an unbelievable amount of work to—”

  The bell over the door interrupted her, and a pretty redhead came waltzing in. “Mari, did you get those—well, hello there.”

  The redhead stuck her hand out. “I’m Pandora, Marigold’s sister. Who are you?”

  He put his coffee down to shake her hand. “Wyatt West.”

  Pandora’s eyes were just about sparkling with interest. “You must be my sister’s date for my wedding.”

  “Pandora!” Marigold glared at her sister.

  Pandora shrugged. “If you’re not, no big deal.” Her gaze shifted back to Marigold. “Phil Crenshaw told me he’d go with you, Mari.”

  “Phil who sells life insurance?” Marigold’s upper lip curled.

  “Yes. Why do you look like that?”

  “Phil Crenshaw has all the sex appeal of a pocket calculator.”

  “Oh, come on now, he’s not that—”

  “His favorite color is mediocre.”

  Wyatt snorted, drawing Marigold’s attention. She sidled up to him. “Besides, I can’t go with Phil anyway. I mean, Wyatt already said he’d go with me. Didn’t you, Wyatt?”

  He hadn’t known until now what a ping-pong ball felt like being swatted back and forth between two paddles. Something pressed against his side. It was Marigold’s finger, poking him. “Uh, yes. I sure did.”

  Marigold looked at her sister. “See? I have a date.”

  Pandora crossed her arms. “Really?”

  “Really,” Marigold said. There was a grave seriousness to her voice that told Wyatt he’d best play along.

  Pandora stared him down a little before looking back to her sister. “So when I leave, you’re not going to tell him he’s off the hook? That this was just a ruse to get me off your back about having a date?”

  “No. Because I have a date. Wyatt.”

  “Then why haven’t I heard of him before?”

  Wyatt clenched his teeth to keep from laughing. Pandora would have made a great interrogator.

  “Because,” Marigold said, “we’re newly acquainted.”

  Pandora still looked skeptical. “Feels very scammy to me.”

  Wyatt sipped his coffee like a boss. “Would I have brought her breakfast if this was a scam? I am clearly trying to make some time here.” Then he gave her what he hoped was a very convincing do-you-mind look.

  She pursed her lips and stepped back, hands up. “All right. If you say so. And you know what? Just to be on the safe side, I’m officially inviting you to my wedding this Saturday, Wyatt. You got that? It’s official. Right from the bride.” She pointed at her sister. “That way, that one can’t uninvite you.”

  He laughed. “Thanks.” These two were nuts. In a fun way. Never having much of a family himself, he liked the interaction.

  “You got it,” Pandora said. “Now, you two go ahead with your breakfast there. Mari, call me later.”

  “No.”

  “Excellent. Talk to you then.” With a wink, Pandora was out the door.

  Marigold heaved out a sigh. “That woman is like a dog with a bone. You’d think she’d have enough to worry about with her wedding four days away.”

  “What’s the dress? Semi-formal? Casual? I’ll probably have to buy something.” He wasn’t a fan of shopping, but being her date gave him a reason to hang around her a bit longer and make sure those men from the parking lot didn’t come back. He had to admit, he was also partially doing it just to see the look on Pandora’s face when he showed up as Marigold’s date at the wedding.

  She stared at him like he’d sprouted horns and a tail. “For what?”

  “The wedding.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, about that. We’re not going. I mean, I am. I’m a bridesmaid. But you’re not. Going, that is. Obviously, you know you’re not a bridesmaid.”

  “Ah, but I’ve just been invited by the bride. Can’t really turn down such a personal invitation, can I?”

  “Yes, you can. She won’t even notice.”

  He clutched his chest. “I’m wounded.”

  A sweet, small smile bent her mouth. She fished out one of the cinnamon buns in its enormous container, put it on the counter, and opened it. The warm scent of cinnamon and sugar filled the air. She licked icing off one finger. “You really want to go?”

  “You really need a date?”

  “No one needs a date.” She attacked the pastry with a plastic fork, nearly breaking the utensil in half in her effort to get a bite free. “But it would be nice not to go alone.”

  “Then I’m your man.”

  “I don’t really know you. Sure, you seem nice enough, but…” She waved a fork-speared hunk of bun at him before popping it in her mouth.

  “I could be completely psycho.”

  She nodded as she chewed. “Yep. That.”

  “You’re right. I could be. I’m not.” He pulled out his wallet, took out his private investigator’s license, and placed it on the counter. “Before I was a PI, I was a police detective. Homicide, actually.”

  She studied the small rectangle of paper. “Wow. From homicide to a private eye, huh? I’ve never met either one of those before.”

  “You have now. What do you think?”

  She made no effort to hide her teasing smile. “I think credentials are pretty easy to fake.”

  He rolled his eyes and laughed softly. “This isn’t fake. And I guess my attempt at impressing you failed miserably.”

  “No, you being a detective—homicide or private—is very impressive.” She dug in for another bite of cinnamon bun. “But I think if you are a psycho, based on your work experience, there’s no chance the cops will ever find my body. Still, you’re more interesting than Phil the insurance salesman, so I’ll take my chances.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “You’re a tough nut, Marigold.”

  “Just a realist. Being a single mom will do that to you.”

  She had a kid. Interesting. “Well, since we’re putting all of our cards on the table, I should tell you I’m not relationship shopping. I like being single. But I’m happy to be your plus-one.”

  “Then it’s a date.”

  For a moment, it seemed like the light in her eyes dimmed a little, but she turned away so fast he wasn’t sure what he’d seen. She was bent over, rummaging under the counter.

  Why did he get the feeling he was being dismissed? Had she already been m
aking future plans for them? Why did women do that? Why did they attach a future to every guy? He sighed and got out of the chair. “I should get going. I need to follow up with my client, let her know about the grand for the candlesticks.”

  “Oh. Aren’t you going to eat your bun?” She straightened, a roll of paper towels in her hand. She put them on the counter. “These things are super messy.”

  “They are, but don’t you have work to do?”

  She laughed. “So much it would make your head hurt to hear about it. But I have five more minutes to eat some of this cinnamon bun and drink some of this coffee. Or were you trying to bolt because you changed your mind about the wedding?”

  “I didn’t change my mind.” Except, he was now thinking he’d been wrong about whatever he’d thought he’d seen in her eyes. He picked up a pen off the counter. “I should probably give you my cell number, too. And you should give me yours.”

  “That’ll make it harder if you decide to ditch me.” She sipped her coffee, smirking slightly. “Or if I turn out to be a psycho.”

  Leah, Marigold’s employee, came in at ten. Wyatt was gone by then, and Marigold was glad. The fewer people who knew about him, the better. The less explaining she’d have to do about why things hadn’t worked out when he was gone after the wedding. Or whatever it was that people would assume had happened.

  She was fine with him being a one-off. It helped her out a lot. Her sisters would have nothing to rib her about at the wedding, she’d avoid being set up by them, and she had a strong suspicion that Wyatt would be a fun date.

  He was funny, handsome, and so far, very kind. She liked him. Anyone would. And she could easily like him more, but she wouldn’t let that happen. For one big thing, he was a normie. A human. That wasn’t something she wanted to mess with.

  But also because he’d been so honest about his feelings when it came to relationships. He didn’t want anything permanent. She could respect that.

  Really, she admired his honesty. It was refreshing. Sad. But refreshing. At least she didn’t have to wonder if it was going anywhere. It wasn’t.

  He wouldn’t even need to meet Saffron. Except for at the wedding, of course. After all, what was the point?

  “Morning, Mari.” Leah came around the counter and put on her green Enchanted Garden apron.

  “Morning.”

  Leah looked around. “Smells like Mummy’s in here.”

  “Oh, a, uh, customer brought me a coffee and a cinnamon roll.” Not a lie, but better than explaining the complicated truth.

  “That was nice! Does that mean there’s coffee and a cinnamon bun for me somewhere, seeing as how you’re on the no-wheat-sugar-and-caffeine bridesmaid diet?”

  Marigold frowned. “I took a temporary break from that. But there is half of a bun left in the fridge if you want it.”

  “Heck, yes, I want it.” Leah grinned. “How’s wedding prep going?”

  “Flowers are due in any moment, then it’s going to get intense.”

  Leah rubbed her hands together. She loved her job, something Marigold was intensely thankful for. But then, Leah was a wood nymph and, much like a green witch, was especially suited to working with plants. “Yeah, it is.”

  The back doorbell rang. Marigold headed toward the rear entrance. “That’s either Joe to pick up deliveries or Pandora’s flowers arriving.”

  She opened it and found the driver for the wholesale supply house. “Hey, George.”

  “Hi, Marigold. I’ve got a big order for you today.” The balding man smiled. “Your sister’s wedding flowers.”

  “Right on time.” She propped the door open so he could come and go easily. The bell over the front door jangled. It was going to be a busy day. “You need help?” She knew he didn’t, but she always asked.

  “Nope, I’ve got the dolly. Be in with the first batch shortly.”

  “Sounds good.” She went back to the counter.

  Wyatt was at the front of the shop, talking to Leah.

  Marigold double-timed it to where they were standing. “Leah, you want to see if George needs a hand? You could inventory the boxes for me as they come in.”

  Leah gave her a curious look. “Sure.”

  As she headed for the back room, Marigold spoke to Wyatt. “What can I do for you?”

  He held out a cashier’s check from a local bank, and it was made out to cash for one thousand dollars. “Here’s your check.”

  “Great. The box is under the counter.” She walked behind it and grabbed the box of candlestick pieces that had accidently become even more of a mess than they’d been before. Although to her, the accident hadn’t looked that accidental. It was almost like Newt had dropped the box on purpose when he was getting them out of her car. “Here’s your puzzle.”

  Wyatt took the box, then leaned one elbow on the counter. “I was thinking, since we’re going to your sister’s wedding and all, maybe we should go to dinner. You know, get to know each other a little.”

  She could feel a look of skepticism coming over her. The man who didn’t want any kind of relationship now wanted to get to know her better? “I can’t. I have so much wedding prep to do that time off is out of the question.”

  He frowned. “What kind of wedding prep do you have to do? Your sister is the one getting married.”

  She laughed at him. “Hello, look around you. Who do you think is doing the flowers?”

  Realization washed over him. “Clearly, I’m an idiot.”

  She laughed some more. “No, you’re not. Guys don’t think about stuff like that.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I’m disappointed you won’t get to show me around town. This place is a lot different than Millersville.”

  “That it is. But you don’t need me to show you around. Just pick a direction on Main Street and walk. You won’t be disappointed, I promise.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You realize that was my way of saying I was hoping to spend more time with you.”

  “Oh.” Yeah, she hadn’t gotten that. Daisy doodles, she was out of practice.

  Leah popped her head out of the workroom. “Everything’s here. You want me to go ahead and sign off?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Marigold looked into the back. Boxes of flowers were everywhere. She blew out a breath. The work that awaited was…staggering. But she’d enjoy it. Her hours of labor were for the love of her sister, and each bloom would be placed with that thought.

  “What’s in all those boxes?”

  She turned around to see Wyatt peering into the back room too. “All the flowers I have to arrange for my sister’s wedding. Actually, not all, but most.”

  His brows lifted. “You have help, right?”

  “I have Leah.”

  His brows went higher. “The two of you are going to handle all of those? How many…bouquets or whatever do you have to do?”

  “One bridal bouquet, four bridesmaid bouquets, one flower girl basket, two corsages, eight boutonnieres, six swags, ten aisle markers, one arched trellis—well, that will actually be done on site—fifteen centerpieces, and one toss bouquet.” She paused, mentally checking her list. “I think that’s it.”

  His mouth was open, and he was blinking, but otherwise she wasn’t sure he was still with her.

  “Wyatt?”

  He took a breath. “That seems like a lot.”

  “It is, but thankfully it’s a small backyard wedding, so—”

  “That’s a small wedding?”

  “Yes. Well, maybe not that small. About a hundred and fifty people. But small in terms of the number of arrangements necessary. Church weddings with receptions at another venue usually need a lot more. Pandora’s wedding will be contained to the backyard. They’re having the ceremony and the reception there. In tents. The reception part, not the ceremony.”

  “You make it seem like it’s no big deal. How many weddings do you do a year?”

  “In this town? I try not to do more than twenty a year, but sometimes it’s a little
more than that.”

  “Wow.” He breathed out the word like it was all he could come up with.

  She leaned in, ready to blow his mind just a little. “And in two more weekends, I have another wedding. One of my friends.”

  “I thought being a cop was hard.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s still harder. I’ve never been shot at.”

  He smirked, seemingly snapping back to reality. “I certainly hope not.”

  A new thought occurred to her. “You know, if you don’t have anything else to do until the wedding, I could always use some help here. You did say you wanted to get to know me better.”

  He blinked. Hard. “I don’t know anything about arranging flowers.”

  “Oh, yeah, no, that is not at all what I had in mind. I was thinking you could just sit here and help customers. You know, answer the phone, take orders. Get us lunch.” She did her best not to laugh, because the thought of him being her errand boy made her giddy for reasons she couldn’t name. “Just stuff like that. Then Leah and I could focus on the wedding prep uninterrupted.”

  “For real?”

  She shrugged. “Unless you think that’s more than you can handle.”

  “I…could do that.” He seemed to be thinking a little more. Then he nodded. “I need to mail this box to my client first, but then I’m all yours.”

  Frank jumped up on the counter and lay down, paws crossed in front of him.

  Marigold smiled. “Good. You’re hired. Come back after you hit the post office, and I’ll show you how to properly unbox and store these stems.”

  Thanks to directions from Marigold, Wyatt walked to the post office instead of driving since it wasn’t too far. He got the box mailed out, then headed back. On the return walk, he realized he really had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. Not with Marigold, but with Suzanne.

  The moment he’d talked to Suzanne about getting the grand for the candlesticks, and she’d told him that there was another auction she wanted him to bid on in a couple days, he’d gotten that funny feeling in his stomach.

  That feeling happened only when something hinky was going on. When he was about to figure out a case, or stumble onto some shady dealings, or discover that a good guy was actually a bad guy.