The auctioneer banged the gavel and got things underway. The bookends didn’t come up until forty-five minutes in, but Wyatt had his paddle at the ready.
Marigold put hers on her lap, then shot him a flip look. “Winning,” she whispered.
“Nope,” he whispered back.
One of the auction house employees walked back and forth with the bookends in his hands, and the auctioneer got the bidding started. “Next up is an interesting pair of antique bookends. These bookends were said to have been in Ben Franklin’s home at one time, although we have no provenance on that.”
“What are they supposed to be?” someone from the audience shouted.
“Ugly,” another person answered.
Laughter filled the room, and the auctioneer brought things back to order with his gavel. “My description says they’re winged frogs.”
Wyatt and Marigold responded in unison, “Oh.”
“Do I hear fifty dollars? Fifty to get us started.”
Wyatt stuck his paddle up.
“There we go, fifty in the third row. Do I hear fifty-five? Anyone with fifty-”
Marigold’s paddle went into the air. “One hundred.”
The auctioneer looked at Wyatt. “Do I hear one twenty-five?”
“One thousand,” Wyatt answered.
The crowd gasped, but Marigold just narrowed her eyes and lifted her paddle again. “Two thousand.”
Wyatt smiled and raised his paddle high. “Three.”
The auctioneer stared at him. “Are you saying three thousand?”
“I am.”
“Ma’am?” The auctioneer directed his attention to Marigold. “Would you like to counter?”
“Four,” she answered. “Thousand.”
The audience was dead silent and hanging on every word.
Before the auctioneer could ask, Wyatt said, “Five.”
“Six,” came Marigold’s reply.
Wyatt shook his head. “Seven.”
Marigold let out a sigh. Wyatt smirked. He’d done it. He’d won.
“Nine,” she said.
“What?” He looked at her. “Nine?”
She nodded. “Nine. You have any other questions?”
“Sure,” he answered. “How do you feel about nine thousand five hundred?” His cap was ten. He was hoping she’d already hit hers.
The audience seemed to be collectively holding its breath.
“I feel like it’s five hundred too little.” She waved her paddle at the auctioneer. “Ten thousand.”
Wyatt sat back, almost unable to keep from laughing out loud. He put his paddle down and held his hands up. “I’m out.”
“Yes,” Marigold hissed.
The auctioneer looked a little blank. He glanced around the room. “Do I hear ten thousand five hundred?”
Not a peep.
He banged the gavel down. “Sold to the blonde in the third row.”
The audience started clapping.
She grabbed Wyatt’s hand. “Are you mad?”
“Not one bit. My client isn’t going to be happy, but hey, that’s on her, not me.” He tipped his head toward the checkout desk. “Let’s get these hideous things and get out of here.”
“You got it.”
They went together to collect the bookends, then he waited while she paid. He picked up the box that the bookends were in. “I’ll carry them for you.”
“In case I get knocked down again?”
“No one is touching you. But yes, something like that.”
She smiled and looped her arm through his as they left the building.
Dusk was fast approaching. He did a quick scan of the parking lot, but saw no one suspicious. “Where’s your car?”
She clicked the button on the key fob, causing the lights to flash. “Right there.”
“Okay.” They walked over together, then while she got in, he secured the box on the passenger seat.
Something felt off. He did another scan of the parking lot. His gut was telling him they were being watched.
She put her seat belt on. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow for the rehearsal dinner.”
“Reneging on the bet, huh?”
“Oh! Breakfast! The excitement of winning made me forget—hey, are you paying attention to me?”
He nodded. “Yes, but something’s not right.”
Her smile vanished. “Like what?”
“Not sure. I’m going to follow you home. Make sure you’re okay.”
“You’re scaring me a little.”
“I don’t mean to. I just want you safe.”
“You really think something’s up?”
“I do.” He took his eyes off the parking lot to look at her. “But nothing’s going to happen to you.”
She nodded, the concern in her eyes evident.
“Lock your doors as soon as they’re closed, then pull out. Wait at the exit until I’m behind you, then head home. Don’t get out of your car until I’m there.”
“Okay.” She closed her door, the snick of the locks engaging the next sound.
He walked to his SUV, his head on a swivel.
Nothing happened in the parking lot, and nothing happened on the drive back to her house, but the feeling in his gut had yet to abate. She parked in her driveway.
He pulled in behind her and got out. A quick perimeter check revealed nothing out of the ordinary. He walked to her car door.
She rolled the window down. “Everything good?”
“Seems to be.”
“You know, I was just going to drop these off and go back to work.”
He nodded. “I know. I don’t think that’s the best idea. Unless you want me to come with you. I don’t like the thought of you being alone.”
She sighed. “I guess I can stay home. Just means more work I have to make up tomorrow.”
“I’ll do whatever you need me to. I’m all yours tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Good. Let’s get you inside and make sure the house is secure.” He doubted that would be enough to satisfy him. Whatever was setting off his instincts wasn’t going away.
Marigold woke up disappointed in herself. After thinking all day yesterday about how much she wanted to kiss Wyatt some more, she’d kissed him only once at the auction house. Once wasn’t enough. Not with a man that handsome with lips that soft.
Last night, he’d smelled better than she’d remembered, too.
But the events after the auction had distracted her from all thoughts of kissing. She’d been a little scared. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that, but having Wyatt follow her home, then check the outside of her house had given her a lot of peace.
It was kind of hot how serious he’d gotten. He’d suddenly turned into this all-business protector man. Like her safety was the most important thing in his world.
She’d never experienced that before. It was heady stuff.
Almost enough to make her forget how much wedding prep remained.
With happy thoughts of her new guy and less happy thoughts of her to-do list, she got up, brushed her teeth, put on her robe, and went to wake Saffron up for school.
But Saffie wasn’t in her bed. “Saff? Where are you?”
“In the living room.”
Marigold walked in to see what the kid was up to. Hopefully not levitating the furniture.
But Saffie was leaning on the windowsill, staring intently out the front window curtains.
Maybe there was a rabbit on the lawn. Saffie loved animals. “What are you doing, kiddo?”
“Watching the man in our driveway.”
Marigold stopped breathing for a second. Then she leaped forward, grabbed Saffron, and pulled her back from the window.
“Mom!”
“Saff, go stand in the hallway.”
“Why? What’s—”
“Go. Now.” Marigold rarely snapped at her daughter, but this wasn’t the time for a debate.
Saffron went to the hallway. “What’s g
oing on?”
“I’m not sure.” Marigold peeked through the curtains. She sighed and shook her head in amusement. “Never mind. It’s nothing. Go eat your breakfast.”
“But—”
“Please, Saffie. Go get your breakfast. You know how fast the morning goes.”
“All right.” Saffie started walking in that direction.
Marigold took another look outside. Wyatt was asleep in his SUV in their driveway. And by the looks of the clothes he had on, he hadn’t made it home last night. But she’d checked around the house (through the windows) before going to bed and his SUV hadn’t been there.
“Who’s that guy, Mom?”
Saffie hadn’t gone more than three steps. Marigold moved away from the window as she tied her robe a little tighter and gave her daughter a stern look. “Kitchen. Breakfast. Now.”
With an exasperated sigh and a massive eye roll, Saffron went.
Marigold ran her fingers through her curls, using the mirror by the front door to see if she could tame them a little. She failed and gave up. The upside was if the shock of seeing what she looked like first thing in the morning didn’t scare Wyatt off, she’d know he was a keeper.
She unlocked the front door and slipped outside. The air was cool and still. She padded barefoot down the driveway to rap her knuckles lightly on Wyatt’s car window.
He blinked rapidly as he sat up and cleared his throat. He looked through the window at her, blinked a few more times, then smiled.
She lifted her eyebrows. “You okay in there?”
He turned the car on enough to power the window down. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“I see that. But why are you sleeping in my driveway? Did you get kicked out of your hotel?”
He rubbed his face. “I was keeping an eye on your house.”
Very sweet. Maybe a little overcautious, but she wasn’t about to tell a former cop that. “What time did you get here?” Had to be after ten. That’s around when she’d turned in last night and the only car in her driveway then had been hers.
“About midnight. I went back to the hotel, had some dinner, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. I ended up driving back here.”
“And you’ve been here since.”
He nodded.
“And here I thought you were just making sure I fulfilled my end of the bet.”
His expression perked up. “That’s right. You owe me breakfast.”
She shook her head. “Not right now I don’t. I have a child to feed and get to school, and I have to get ready myself and get to work. And after not doing any work after the auction last night, I have a lot of work to do today. A lot. Buckets of work. More work than you can—”
He snorted sleepily. “I get it. You’re busy. I told you I’d help. How about I meet you at the shop at nine and I’ll bring breakfast? Then I’ll take up my counter-watching duties so you and Leah can get all that wedding stuff done.”
She mulled that over. With him there, she was going to have to be very careful about using her magic to finish off the arrangements, but there were ways of distracting him. And having him at the counter would buy her and Leah all kinds of time.
She wasn’t stupid. His help would be invaluable. “It’s a deal.”
He leaned his arm on the window. “What would you like, then, sunshine?”
She smiled. “Veggie omelet, light on the cheese, wheat toast dry.”
“How very healthy. No pancakes? No bacon?”
“Bridesmaid dress, remember?”
He seemed to suddenly wake up a bit more. “That reminds me, I will need a little time off today to pick up my clothes from Guildman’s.”
“No problem.” That would give her a chance to work her magic. Literally. “See you in the shop.”
The rest of the morning went by in a blur. She got Saffie off to school and herself halfway to work when she remembered she’d left the bookends at the house. Newt was coming to get them at the shop this morning, and with what he’d spent, she really wanted to hand them over as soon as possible.
She ran into the house and grabbed them, then headed back to the car. Her cell phone rang as she was walking out. She shifted the box to get into her purse, lost her grip on the cardboard, and dropped the box on the driveway.
It landed with a sharp crack.
She stood frozen for a moment, ignoring her still ringing phone. “You have got to be kidding me.”
She didn’t want to open the box. Didn’t want to find out she’d just broken a ten-thousand-dollar pair of bookends. After what had happened with the candlesticks, Newt was going to think she was doing this on purpose. She already felt sick to her stomach, knowing that crack had not been a good sound.
With a sigh, she bent and opened the box.
The left bookend was perfect. The right one was in two pieces. She closed her eyes and groaned. If Newt expected her to pay for the one she’d broken, she was sunk. “I can’t afford this. I cannot afford this.”
Maybe she could glue it back together. With magic. Except Newt was a wizard and he’d pick up on that. Of course, there was always the possibility that he’d think the damage had been done pre-auction.
But that would be dishonest, and that was not who she was.
She carefully lifted the box and went back into the house to examine the pieces. She eased the broken bookend out to see if the crack was all the way through.
It was. The bookend came apart cleanly.
And a small, muslin-wrapped package fell out.
Intrigued, she put the pieces aside to examine the package. It was heavier than she expected. The fabric was frayed but seemed new. She unwrapped the linen and found a silver chain with an odd pendant dangling from it.
The pendant was shaped like an eye, and the iris and pupil were made from an amber stone of some kind.
She had no idea what it was or how much it was worth, but there was magic in it. Strong magic. Enough that it gave her some pause.
Newt had been willing to spend six thousand dollars on those ugly candlesticks and ten thousand dollars on these hideous bookends. Men had tried to steal the candlesticks, and Wyatt had felt sure someone was watching her last night.
Then there was Wyatt’s client who’d also been willing to spend big bucks for the candlesticks and bookends.
It was all starting to add up in a way that could mean only one thing. This was no coincidence. Whatever was going on had very little to do with some ugly home decor and everything to do with the magic pendant in her hands.
Wyatt walked toward the Enchanted Garden with mixed feelings, but he’d finally decided not to tell Marigold what he’d seen last night.
When he’d arrived at her home, there had been a dark sedan parked two houses away. He’d driven around the block, and when he’d returned to her place and pulled in the driveway, the sedan had taken off.
His gut had been right. She was being watched.
She didn’t need to know he’d been right, though. Not today, not when she had her sister’s wedding flowers to finish and then the wedding itself tomorrow.
Until that wedding was over, he planned on being with her as much as possible. No one was going to harm her.
Because she might have been buying those candlesticks and bookends for Newt, but whoever was trying to get them might not know that. And that meant she still wouldn’t be safe, even after she turned those bookends over to Newt.
He didn’t like that. At all.
But he put a smile on his face as he rolled into the Enchanted Garden. She was safe, and she was going to stay that way.
Frank was sleeping in the front window, nestled into a basket of tulips. Wyatt leaned in. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be sleeping in those, buddy.”
Frank covered his face with one paw.
Wyatt chuckled. The cat was something else. Wyatt liked him. He liked all of this. Now he just had to protect it. And he would. Because he’d finally found a place that felt right.<
br />
Not only that, but he was nailing this boyfriend thing. He was bringing Marigold breakfast, and he was going to be helping her out by handling the counter while she got the wedding flowers done.
Small-town life was apparently his jam.
Marigold and Leah were in the workroom, deep in conversation. He held up the two takeout bags. “Breakfast, ladies.”
Neither one of them looked at him. He cleared his throat. “No one’s hungry?”
Marigold glanced his way. “That feeling you had in your gut about something being off? I think you were right.”
A sharp jolt went through him, the need for action, the need to respond and make things right. He dropped the bags on the counter and went into the workroom. “What happened? Are you okay? Did those men come back?”
“I’m fine, it’s nothing like that. Listen, what do you know about your client? The woman who hired you to bid on the same stuff as me?”
That wasn’t the response he’d expected. Had Suzanne done something? “She’s a wealthy woman. Deep into real estate from what she’s told me. Why?”
Marigold looked at Leah, and Wyatt got the distinct feeling they weren’t telling him something. But what? She shifted her attention back to him. “Is that all you know about her?”
“I know a little more. But why? You’ve got to tell me what’s going on. I’m as involved in this as you are.”
She chewed at the inside of her cheek for a moment. “I dropped the box that had the bookends in it this morning. Broke one of them right in two.”
“That isn’t good.”
“That’s not the half of it,” she said. “I found this.” She pulled a chain from the pocket of her jeans and held it up. A weird eye-shaped medallion hung from it.
He peered closer. “What is that? You say you found it? Where?”
“I don’t know what it is, but it was inside the bookend that broke. Fell out when I picked the pieces up. I was going to see if they could be mended. This pendant was inside, wrapped in fabric. I’m thinking it’s what this whole thing was really about, not those ugly knickknacks.”
He nodded, the elements coming together in his head the way they did when a case was about to be solved. “You’re right. I’m sure of it. But why? That thing doesn’t look like it’s worth much. But I admit, I don’t know much about jewelry.”
The Detective Wins The Witch (Nocturne Falls Book 10) Page 13