“Actually, you should probably go buy that sport coat.” She got her phone out. “Let me text my mom real quick and ask her where you should go.”
While she did that, Jolie returned with the bill. Wyatt handed her his credit card and she left again.
Marigold was concentrating on her phone. “Okay, my mom says Guildman’s on Main and South. How did I not think of that? Guildman’s is right by my mom’s shop. Anyway, they’re having a private sale. Just say you’re a guest going to the Williams-Van Zant wedding, and they’ll give you twenty percent off.”
“Sounds good.”
She looked up. “That is a pretty sweet deal.”
“It is. I’ll head down there and take care of it as soon as we leave. And you point me in the right direction. Or should I drive?”
“No, it’s walkable.”
Jolie returned with the check. He added a nice tip, signed it, and grabbed his card. “All right, I’m ready if you are.”
“Sure.” She slid halfway out of the booth, then stopped. “Hang on.” She picked up her glass of water and started drinking, her eyes on him the whole time.
“All right, I get it.” He picked his glass up and took a drink too. Women. Amazing how the crazy didn’t bother him when they were so drop-dead beautiful.
Marigold pointed Wyatt toward Guildman’s, then headed in the opposite direction to the flower shop. She walked faster than she might have if Wyatt had been with her. No slow, leisurely stroll. She needed to make the best use of his time out of the store to work on magically enhancing whatever work Leah had finished.
But when she got into the shop, Leah was behind the counter ringing up a man buying a birthday bouquet complete with a big Mylar balloon. She nodded at Marigold. “Nice lunch?”
“Nice lunch.”
The man headed for the door with his goodies. Marigold tipped her head toward the back. “How many centerpieces did you get done?”
“One and a half.” Leah smiled apologetically. “It’s been busy.”
“That’s okay. Busy is good.”
“Thanks again,” Leah called after the customer. Then she shrugged at Marigold. “I really thought I’d get more finished.”
“We’ll get them done.”
Leah looked past Marigold. “What did you do with Wyatt?”
“He went to buy some clothes for the wedding. I’m guessing we have forty-five minutes or so to do whatever magical stuff we need to, but then we’ll just spend the rest of the day working on getting those centerpieces done. Then I can do my thing to them tomorrow morning when I get in.”
Leah pulled up a screen on the counter computer. “We also have a dozen red roses, another birthday bouquet, two get wells, and a thinking of you. Plus, Mrs. Duncan ordered sixteen pink happy birthday balloons. All of which have to go out tomorrow.”
“We’ll do them, no problem. Has Joe been in for deliveries?”
Leah bit her lip. “About that. No. He called and said he’d be late because the van got a flat.”
Marigold sighed, but kept a smile on her face. “When it rains, it pours.”
The bell over the door jangled. She turned to see who it was and almost lost that smile. “Newt. How are you?”
“Not well, not well. We must talk.”
She glanced at Leah. “See if you can knock out that other half of the centerpiece. I’ve got this.”
Leah gave her a thumbs-up. “Got it.” And went off to the workroom.
Marigold met Newt in the middle of the shop. “What’s going on? You seem upset.”
“There are dark forces at work, my dear. Dark forces.”
Marigold reacted as appropriately as she could, but the truth was, wizards were known for their dramatic flair, and Newt was no different. “Why? What’s happening?”
He looked around like someone might be listening in, but the only other person in the shop beside him, Marigold, and Leah was Frank. And he technically wasn’t a person, despite what he thought.
Newt spread his hands for extra emphasis. “The spirits have contacted me.”
“Mm-hmm.” Also like a lot of wizards, Newt believed he had connections in the afterlife. Now Pandora, on the other hand, had an actual ghost living in her attic, but hey, to each their own. “What did they tell you?”
His eyes grew gravely serious. “That you’re in danger, my dear. Well, perhaps not you. But possibly your sweet child. There is an agent at work against you. An agent in league with the man you never thought you’d see again. They want to take her away from you.”
A chill shot down her spine, and a shiver ran through her before she could stop it. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “That’s all the spirits told me. But I had to warn you. I do hope you’ll be careful. This agent could be anyone. But whoever he—or she, I suppose—is, they mean business.”
“Thank you for telling me.” She nodded, numbed by the thought that was her secret fear. The deep, dark terror that woke her up at night.
Saffron’s father had changed his mind.
Guildman’s was a nice store with nice things.
The clothes ranged from funky hipster to English gentleman, which surprised Wyatt, because from the look of the outside, he’d expected it to be more…retired dude who golfed and dined at the country club. Sure, the place had those kinds of clothes, but they had a lot more, too. And from what he could see, everything on display was sharp.
“Hello there, son.”
Wyatt looked around to see who the deep voice had come from.
A couple racks away stood a large man with graying hair and goatee. He was built like a retired linebacker. Burly, but also kindly. Like a grandfather. If Wyatt had had a grandfather to compare him to.
Linebacker. Guildman’s. Suddenly, it hit Wyatt. “Are you Dexter Guildman? The Wrecking Machine?”
The man smiled. “Yep, that’s me.” He folded his hands in front of him. “Don’t get called that much these days.”
The Wrecking Machine had been an integral part of the Atlanta Thrashers in the early nineties. He’d gone to three Super Bowls with them and come home with two championship rings. Wyatt realized he was about to have a fanboy moment. “You’re one of football’s greats. You’re a legend.”
Dexter gave a little shrug. “Not so many people know me now. But that’s all right. Life is good. Now, what can I help you with?”
Wyatt stuck his hand out. “First, I have to shake your hand. I was a big fan of the Thrashers. Still am. But you were one of my heroes growing up.” No matter what home he’d been placed in, he usually got to watch football. And Dexter Guildman had been one of his favorites to watch.
Dexter shook his hand. “You’re all right, son. What’s your name?”
“Wyatt West. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing in this town?”
“Nice to meet you, Wyatt. I retired here. My granddaughter goes to Harmswood Academy.” He smiled. “Gotta be near my grandbaby. Now, what can I do for you?”
“You know, makes sense you own a shop like this. You always were a sharp dresser. I guess that means I came to the right place. I’m going to the Williams-Van Zant wedding, and to up the ante, I’m Marigold Williams’s date.”
Dexter whistled. “You have got to be on point.”
“You’re right. I do.” The plan of just getting the bare minimum changed. Wyatt needed to impress Marigold. And her daughter. And the rest of her family. He also wasn’t going to walk away from an opportunity to have Dexter Guildman help him pick something out.
Dexter stroked his goatee as he made a slow circle around Wyatt. He paused. “You know, you have a little undercover vibe going on. Not sure if you’re aware of that.”
Wyatt laughed. “That’s because I was undercover. And in uniform. But I’m retired from the police force. I’m a PI now.”
Dexter’s brows rose. “Is that right? Are you packing?”
Wyatt held his hands up. “No, not anymore.”
“All ri
ght. Just trying to figure if we need room for a holster.” He narrowed his eyes and studied Wyatt some more. “You and Marigold…is that a new thing?”
“Very.”
“Uh-huh, I see.” He stroked the goatee a little more. “I think I have just the thing.”
Almost an hour later, Wyatt had a new friend and a new suit. Tan in a linen-silk blend with a pale lilac shirt underneath. He had a new belt and shoes, too. Dexter had thrown in a casual, cotton pocket square he promised would take the look up a notch.
Wyatt had to admit he’d never worn lilac in his life, but he’d never looked this good before either. He handed over his credit card, not caring how much it was going to scream even with the wedding discount. “Thank you for your help. I feel a lot more confident about the event now.”
Dexter smiled. “Then my job is done. Well, it will be after my tailor makes those final adjustments. You’re going to look sharp, my friend.”
“I’ll be back Friday morning to pick everything up.”
“We’ll be ready.” He ran the card through, then handed it back.
Wyatt tucked it away in his wallet. “I have to say, I’ve never worn a lilac shirt before. It looks good. And I trust you. Just new ground for me.”
A spark lit Dexter’s eyes. “You want to impress Marigold and her mama? Then that shirt is how to do it. It’s the exact shade of her bridesmaid dress.”
“Are you sure? I could have sworn she told me there were three colors of bridesmaid dresses. And she didn’t tell me which one she’s wearing.”
Dexter tilted his head toward the shop window and the other side of the street. “See that bridal boutique over there? Corette Williams owns that. She’s the girls’ mother. Trust me when I tell you I know what color Marigold is wearing.”
Wyatt’s brows shot up. “That’s impressive. You’re like the secret agent of fashion.”
Dexter laughed and extended his hand. “You’re all right, man. You come back here any time, you hear?”
“Thanks again, I will. See you Friday.” After the handshake, Wyatt left. He was smiling and feeling remarkably good about himself. He’d never paid much attention to clothes. Being in uniform had meant he hadn’t thought about them much for a big part of his life. Being a detective meant he’d switched to a different kind of uniform. Jeans and a button-down and a black leather jacket.
But Dexter was right. Wyatt was going to look sharp on Saturday night.
He took his phone out to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He hadn’t. That was good.
When he looked up, he was staring across the street. Straight at the Ever After bridal shop sign. He looked both ways and crossed, unable to stop himself from walking in.
The place was exactly like what he imagined a bridal shop would be, not that he’d spent much time imagining such a thing, but he had handled a case once where a bride had stabbed one of her bridesmaids to death with a stiletto. The Bridezilla Murder, they’d called it.
He shook his head, in that moment not missing the force quite as much.
“Can I help you?”
A handsome older woman in a pink suit greeted him. She had the same smile as Marigold. The same sparkle in her eyes.
He was momentarily struck dumb. Why had he come in here?
She continued to smile at him. “Are you looking for someone? Or something? Need a tuxedo?”
“I…no, I was just…” He cleared his throat. “I’m your daughter’s date for the wedding. I just thought I’d come introduce myself.”
For the briefest of moments, a look of shock passed over her face. Then she composed herself. “You must be Paolo Mardini. Charisma has told me all about you. How lovely to finally meet you.”
“No, I’m Wyatt West. And I’m Marigold’s date.”
The look of shock returned. “Marigold has a date?”
He stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Me. Lovely shop you have here.”
“Thank you.” She straightened a little, which seemed impossible, given her already perfect posture. “I apologize for my reaction, but Marigold…”
“Doesn’t date much, does she?”
“No, she doesn’t.” She put a hand to her throat and smiled. “I’m Corette, her mother, as you must already know. How kind of you to stop by and introduce yourself.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Williams.”
“Please, call me Corette. We’re all adults here.”
He heard giggling and realized there were customers in the store. “I don’t want to interrupt your day. I’m sure you’re busy. I have to get back.”
“Oh? Where do you work?”
“I’m actually helping Marigold out at the shop.”
She laughed softly, like she was pleased, not like he’d suddenly become the punchline. “That is so sweet of you. I’m always telling her she should hire more help.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind. I don’t have anything else to do.”
She lifted her chin, and the tiniest bit of concern came into her eyes. “Are you unemployed, Wyatt?”
“No, ma’am. I just…I’m a private detective and I have a lot of downtime.”
Her smile returned. “I see. Well, how very nice of you to give Marigold some of that time.”
More giggling came from the back of the shop.
Corette glanced that way. “If you’ll excuse me, I should check on my bride. I’ll see you Friday night at the rehearsal dinner, then?”
“I’m…not sure. I’m just a date. I didn’t think dates went to those, just family.”
“Dates can come. If they’re invited. And Jack Van Zant might be paying for it, but I’m inviting you. See you then.”
“I guess you will.” He watched her go. She was a beautiful woman and somewhat intimidating, which was saying something. It took a lot to intimidate a former homicide detective.
He stepped outside and sighed up at the Guildman’s sign. Then he shook his head and went across the street.
Good thing Dexter had said come back anytime. Wyatt had no idea what to wear to a rehearsal dinner.
By the time Wyatt was on his way back to the flower shop, he’d spent more on clothing in Guildman’s than he had since he’d retired from the force. It felt like a worthy cause, though, and he knew he was going to look good for Marigold. That mattered.
More than he’d expected it to.
But he wanted Marigold to think he looked nice, and not to be embarrassed by him in any way in front of her family. And if he was being very, very honest, he desperately wanted her family to like him.
He walked at a quick pace, covering the distance to the shop with his long, easy strides while he thought about what was going on.
The truth was, he wanted to be a part of a family like hers. A family that cared for each other and did things for each other and made each other a priority.
He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be a part of a clan like that, but from the small glimpses he’d already had of the Williamses, it was something special.
And it filled him with a longing that made him ache in a way he hadn’t since he’d been in foster care. It was a soul-deep kind of yearning that stuck in him like a dull pain. If he thought about it too much, about that hole inside of him that had never quite been filled, then the edges of his world started to cave in.
Darkness lived in that empty place. Darkness that had never been diminished by the right kind of light. And if he let himself dwell on it, he would very quickly come to a place where everything was not all right.
Buying those clothes was an attempt to make him seem like the right kind of man for Marigold. The kind her family would embrace.
He stopped cold on the sidewalk, almost causing a woman to run into him.
She scowled at him. “Watch where you’re going,” she muttered as she walked around him.
“I’m trying,” he answered. Where was he going? What was he thinking? He didn’t want to get married. Didn’t want to be i
nvolved with a woman with a kid. He wasn’t equipped for that. He was screwed up when it came to personal relationships. Foster care had seen to that. People left. People lied. People were awful.
But Marigold wasn’t. She was kind and sweet and patient and strong and funny.
So why would she want a guy like him?
She wouldn’t, the dark place said.
Or would she? What if he told her what a mess he was? Told her he was willing to try? Maybe she’d be…he snorted. He was an idiot. No woman wanted a project. Especially not right before her sister’s wedding.
At most, Marigold wanted a nice guy to keep her company at the reception. To make sure her family didn’t try to set her up with anyone.
That was proof right there she didn’t want a guy, wasn’t it? Otherwise, wouldn’t she let her family, who loved her and knew her best, introduce her to the men they thought she might like?
He shook his head. A pretty face had turned his brain into yearning, pitiful mush. What a sad, lonely—he sighed. Enough.
He started walking again. He could see the shop’s sign from here. Marigold wanted a nice guy for the wedding, she was going to get a nice guy. He’d be polite and charming and the perfect date.
Then he’d be the other thing she wanted.
Gone.
Marigold hadn’t told Leah what Newt had said, and she didn’t plan to. Not yet anyway. When she got home, she’d do some scrying for herself. It was one of her special witchy gifts, and although it wore her out, it might help her determine if Newt was telling the truth.
It might also help her see who this agent was.
Because the only possible agent that she could think of was Wyatt. She didn’t like thinking such awful things about him, nor did she like giving Newt’s terrible warning any real credence until she had proof. But still…how much did she know about Wyatt?
She’d originally thought their meeting was a setup by her sisters. Now she had to wonder if it hadn’t happened because someone else had put it together.
The Detective Wins The Witch (Nocturne Falls Book 10) Page 8