The Detective Wins The Witch (Nocturne Falls Book 10)

by Kristen Painter

  “So was that cinnamon bun you scarfed down.” He snorted.

  She looked at him again. “I only ate half of that.”

  He smirked. “I can tell you’re a mom.”

  “Why? Because I told you to drink water?”

  “Instead of soda? Yes. It’s a very mom thing to do.”

  Jolie came back with one water and one ginger ale.

  Wyatt smiled up at the woman. “I’ll have a water too, when you get a chance. I’ve been told I look parched.”

  Marigold frowned at him. “I did not say that.”

  Mischief sparkled in his eyes. He was enjoying this. So let him, if it got him to drink some water.

  Jolie pulled out a notepad. “You got it. Do you know what you’d like to eat?”

  Wyatt looked at Marigold. “Go ahead.”

  “I’ll have the garden salad with grilled chicken. Vinaigrette on the side.”

  Jolie made a note of that, then went back to Wyatt. “And for you?”

  “I’ll have the pot roast special.”

  “Perfect. Gravy on your mashed potatoes?”

  “Yes.”

  “You got it.” She took their menus and went off to ring their order in.

  Wyatt leaned forward. “Garden salad? Grilled chicken? Are you on a diet all of a sudden?”

  “I’ve been on a diet. That cinnamon bun was nice, but not on it. I have a bridesmaid dress to fit into.”

  He ran a quick, appraising gaze over her. “That explains the water, but you don’t need to diet. You look good the way you are.” One of his brows rose, and he mumbled, “Better than good.”

  She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to hear that last bit, but parts of her got a little toasty in a way they hadn’t in a long while. “Thank you, that’s very kind. But Pandy picked out strapless dresses that are a little body conscious, and I’d like to look my best.”

  “Pandy?”

  “Pandora. My sister.”

  He sighed. “Well, you look any better than you do now and the groom might think he picked the wrong sister.”

  Now she was well and truly blushing. Her cheeks were as warm as if the sun was shining down on her. She dipped her chin, causing her hair to fall around her face. “Cole is absolutely dedicated to my sister. He would never think such a thing.”

  “I’m sure he wouldn’t. I’m sure he’s a tremendous guy. But you are a very attractive woman, Marigold.”

  Where was all this coming from? It was nice, but not something she was used to hearing, and it was throwing her. She was about to start fanning herself with the menu.

  Thankfully, Jolie came back with his water.

  Marigold quickly grabbed her glass and raised it. “To new friends.” It was the only thing she could think of, but it was a pretty weak toast.

  He raised his glass of water and clinked it against hers. “To new friends.”

  Then, finally, he drank.

  One sip.

  He put his glass down, peeled the paper off his straw, and stuck it into his soda.

  So much for that.

  She sighed. She might have to cast some kind of spell on him. The coven frowned on that, though. But if it was for the sake of the town, she could probably get a pass. She couldn’t have him discovering that Nocturne Falls was full of supernaturals.

  “What should I wear to the wedding? In all seriousness.”

  The wedding! She almost fell out of her seat. It would be full of supernaturals. In fact, Wyatt and Alex Cruz’s girlfriend might be the only humans there, and Roxy wasn’t technically a hundred percent human anymore. Not thanks to the special magic that had been created to allow her to shift into a panther like Alex could.

  Crap. Crap. Crap. This was not good. In fact, it stank like the water in a vase where the flowers had been left to rot.

  “Paging Marigold, are you with me, Marigold?”

  She looked at him, once again cursing his handsomeness for making her stupid. “Sorry, yes. Just lots of wedding stuff on my mind.” Which was absolutely the truth.

  “I’m sure there is. I was just asking what you think I should wear.”

  “Do you have nice pants, a dress shirt, and a sport coat? I think that would be appropriate.”

  “No sport coat.” He paused. “No dress shirt and nice pants, really, either. But I’m happy to buy some things. Can you direct me to a shop?”

  “Men’s clothing isn’t really my specialty. But I’ll ask my mom. If anyone knows, it’s her. She owns the bridal boutique in town.”

  “Wow, you’re the florist, and she owns the wedding-dress shop? You guys have the wedding biz sown up in this town, huh? Anyone else in the family a caterer? A minister, maybe?”

  She laughed. “No, but Pandora is a real estate agent, so she can get the happy couple a starter home, no problem.”

  “Nice.” He sipped his dumb ginger ale again. “How did you get to be a florist?”

  She couldn’t exactly tell him she was a green witch and it was a natural fit, but working as close to the truth as she could seemed best. “I’ve just always had a green thumb. Always loved plants and flowers and herbs and learning about them. Seemed like the way to go.”

  He nodded. “Did you ever consider being a flower grower? If you have a green thumb, that would have been a way to go, too.”

  She grinned. “All of the potted herbs and plants I sell in the store I grow myself. Even the exotic stuff. I have a small greenhouse in my backyard.”

  “Really? That’s impressive. Again, I know nothing about plants, but the stuff in your shop looks almost unnaturally good.” He made a sad face. “I had a plant once.”

  “Let me guess, you killed it?”

  He laughed. “Did you know a plant can lose all of its leaves in less than twenty-four hours?”

  “Sounds like overwatering.”

  “Well, it sure wasn’t from underwatering. And hey, at least I tried.”

  Jolie returned with their food, which looked delicious. She put their plates in front of them, then left them to eat.

  Marigold was happy for the interruption. As much as she liked talking about plants, it was too close to who she was. She was afraid she’d slip up and say something witchy. When your mom and your sisters were witches, that kind of talk just came natural. But that side of her wasn’t something Wyatt could find out about.

  Turnabout was fair play. She drizzled the vinaigrette over her salad. “How did you become a cop?”

  He shrugged. “I liked the idea of helping people. And it was a way out. When I was a kid, I—never mind. That’s not important.”

  “No, tell me. What were you going to say?” She really wanted to know what he’d needed a way out of, too. It made her curious about what his childhood had been like.

  He poked at his food for a few long moments, making her think he wasn’t going to answer. Then he spoke. “I was raised in foster care. It was sometimes okay and sometimes—a lot of times—not. The feeling of not belonging was always there.”

  Foster care. The poor guy. She didn’t say anything, just nodded, hoping he’d continue.

  He glanced at her, then went back to his plate. “A police officer came to talk to our school for career day one time.”

  Things were starting to make sense now. Her mother’s heart hurt for him. Being in the system had to have been so hard. It also meant he’d lost his parents somehow. That made Saffie’s life seem extra blessed. She might have only one parent, but she had lots of other family.

  Wyatt’s gaze grew distant and his fork stopped moving. “He looked like a superhero in his uniform. And everyone—the teachers, the other parents there, the kids—they all looked up to him and treated him with respect. He talked about how the force was a family. How the men and women treated each other as brothers and sisters, and how they looked out for each other.”

  She nodded, completely understanding. “And you wanted that.”

  “A family? Hell yes, I wanted that. I got to talk to him after class, and i
t changed the direction of my life. I worked harder in school, got my grades up, and eventually went to college. I got a degree in criminology. As soon as I graduated, I joined the force.”

  “Was it everything you’d hoped?”

  He smiled, finally looking up from his plate. “It was. It was also harder than I’d imagined, but worth it. I loved being a cop. I made detective in less than ten years. And that was amazing, too.”

  She could picture him in a uniform. Very handsome. Not surprisingly. “You know, when I first sat next to you at the auction, I thought you might have been a cop.”

  “You did?” He laughed. “It’ll always be a part of me, I suppose.”

  She mustered the courage to ask the question she really wanted an answer to. “So why aren’t you a cop anymore?”

  His smile disappeared, and a sad, almost angry look came over his face.

  She dug into her salad, feeling bad that she’d made him uncomfortable after he’d just shared such personal history with her. “You know what? It’s not my business. Forget I asked. How’s your pot roast?”

  He sat there, fork in hand, not moving for about four seconds. Then he put his fork down and looked at her. “There was an accident. My gun misfired. I got a couple of powder burns, but I also lost the hearing in my left ear.”

  She sucked in a breath. “That’s terrible.”

  He nodded. “I thought I could come back. That it wouldn’t be a big deal. But it was. I’m not as sharp as I used to be, and that’s not a good thing for someone who carries a gun.” He cleared his throat. “Carried.”

  Again, she hurt for him. It must have been a huge loss. After everything he’d told her about how being a cop had changed his life, not being one must have changed it too. “I’m so sorry.”

  He took his fork up again and dug into his food. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t like that.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that, but she tried anyway. “I’m not pitying you. But I don’t see why it would bother you that I feel sorry you lost the job you loved.”

  “Being a private detective is fine.” He smiled the fakest smiled she’d ever seen.

  She reared back. “Okay, that’s horrifying.”

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “Your pretend smile.” She shook her head and stabbed a piece of cucumber. “You should never do that again.”

  He laughed, a sound she was very happy to hear. “I’ll remember that. Sorry to have frightened you.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll recover.”

  They ate a little bit in silence, then he spoke again. “I sounded harsh earlier. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. The accident is still a pretty sensitive subject for me. Obviously.”

  Something, maybe her mothering instinct, maybe her general concern for people, made her reach out and grab his hand. “It’s okay. I get it. Life is hard sometimes. Don’t worry about how you reacted. It’s understandable.”

  “But it wasn’t nice.” He turned his hand over so he could squeeze hers back. He had a nice grip and slightly callused palms. “Thanks, though. You’re all right, you know that?”

  She smiled. “Even for someone who thinks you don’t drink enough water?”

  “Yes, dear.” He laughed and picked up his glass to take a big sip. “Better?”

  “Better.” She kept smiling, even though he was patronizing her. As long as he was drinking the water, she didn’t care.

  She’d much rather have him around than have to wipe his mind clean with a spell and cause him to forget all about her.

  Her skin was velvety soft, and that surprised him. He turned her palm over to inspect it more closely. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Keep your hands so soft when you work with flowers and plants? You said you had a greenhouse. You can’t tell me that doesn’t involve dirt under your fingernails.”

  She laughed, slipping her hand out of his. “I wash!”

  “But how do you not have rough spots? Or is that an indelicate thing to ask a lady?” Before she could answer, he turned his own palms upright. “Look, I have calluses, and that’s just from time in the gym.”

  She tipped her head, her mouth bending in a coy smile that told him she was both flattered and a little embarrassed. “I wear gloves. And I use a very good hand lotion.”

  “I’ll say.” He wanted to hold her hand again. Especially now that she was blushing. The pink in her cheeks was charming beyond description. She was like a drug he knew he should stay away from for his own good, but couldn’t.

  So be it. There were much worse things to be addicted to.

  Plus, he wanted more. Of her. But that would be leading her on, wouldn’t it? Because this was never going to go anywhere. He was never going to marry her. Which wasn’t anything against her. He was never going to marry anyone. Just like he was never going to have kids. The world had too many of those already and not enough families for them all.

  And he imagined that a woman with a child was most likely looking for something long term. Marigold clearly didn’t need a man to take care of her, nor did she seem to want one, but she must be thinking about a stepdad for the little one. He didn’t blame her. He applauded her really, for wanting to provide that for her child.

  Of all people, Wyatt knew what it meant to grow up without parents who cared. How hard that could be around holidays and school events and…all the time, really.

  But he wasn’t about to discuss that with her, so he changed the subject. Mostly to distance himself from the distracting thoughts she put in his head, but also to keep the conversation from turning back to him and his sad past. “How did you end up going to that auction for Newt in the first place?”

  “Newt comes into the flower shop all the time when he’s in town. And when he asked me, he also offered to pay me, just like he did this second time.”

  Wyatt thought a few beats, his detective brain always rolling through possibilities. “The first time I saw him, he had a red carnation in his lapel. He got that from you, didn’t he?”

  She nodded. “Yes. And I’m surprised you knew the name of that flower.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not a complete Philistine.”

  The light in her eyes said she was on the verge of laughter. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

  He gaped at her in mock injury. “What have I done now?”

  Her gaze went to his soda. “You do like your sugary drinks…”

  He picked up his water and downed half the glass, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Better?”

  She laughed. “Yes. Don’t you feel better?”

  He went back to his pot roast, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what her thing was with water, but if it made her happy, whatever. He forked up some mashed potatoes. “Tell me about your kid.”

  “Why?”

  At her strange tone, he looked up. Her eyes were a little wide, and all trace of amusement was gone. “Just making conversation. If you don’t want to talk about him, that’s fine with me.”

  “Her.” Marigold picked up her fork. “I don’t usually involve my daughter in any of my…personal relationships until I know they’re going somewhere.”

  He understood that. And respected it. No point in getting the kid to like a guy who wasn’t going to be around for long. “But won’t I meet her at the wedding?”

  Marigold chewed a bite of chicken, then drank a little water. Finally, she answered. “Yes, you will.” Then she sighed. “Maybe you shouldn’t go after all.”

  “You could just tell her I’m an old friend. She doesn’t need to know anything more than that.”

  She flicked her eyes at him before digging through her salad for a hunk of tomato. “I don’t make a practice of lying to my child.”

  He smiled.

  “What?” Her tone was laced with defensiveness.

  He shook his head. “I like your parenting style.”

  A hint of confusion clouded her gaze. �
�You do?”

  “Sure. Protect the kid, but be honest with her. If more parents did that, this world might be a different place.”

  She relaxed, making him realize she’d stiffened up. “It’s hard.”

  “I’m sure it is. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a single parent. Or just a parent.”

  “Don’t you want kids of your own?”

  He grunted softly. “No.”

  Her brows shot up. “Really?”

  “Really. No reason for me to bring more kids into this world when there are plenty of them out there already who need homes.”

  She nodded slowly. “You’re right about that.”

  Jolie came back with a water pitcher and refilled their glasses. “You guys need anything? Are you saving room for dessert? There’s a fresh peach cobbler just out of the oven back there.”

  “That sounds—” Wyatt glanced at Marigold. “Terrible. Nope, no dessert here.”

  Marigold laughed. “If you want peach cobbler, have some. It’s amazing.”

  “No, that would be unkind of me with you dieting.” He glanced at Jolie. “I’ll be back for that when I’m alone.”

  Marigold snorted. “Make sure he has a glass of water with that when he does.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Just the check, please.”

  Jolie nodded. “You got it.”

  Marigold dug her credit card out.

  “Put that away.”

  She looked at him. “I’m not paying for the whole thing. We’re going Dutch.”

  “No, we’re not. This is my treat.”

  “This isn’t a date.”

  Wasn’t it, though? He shrugged. “I don’t care what it is, I’m buying.”

  “Wyatt, you’re already helping me out at the shop.”

  So help him, he loved the sound of his name on her lips. He’d probably love his lips on her lips too. Okay, that line of thinking was going to cause him to make bad decisions. “No arguing. It’s done. The client I’m working for is paying me very well for doing very little. So please, my treat.”

  “Okay.” There was still some reluctance in her voice. And she was frowning at him.

  He imagined it was the same look she gave her daughter when the kid misbehaved. It scared him a little that he found it rather sexy. “I guess I’ll get the rest of the shop swept up when we get back.”