Goddess, Awakened

by Cate Masters

  “But it’s never right.” Or hadn’t been for many years.

  “It was the first time I heard it. The Halloween party,” he reminded her.

  “Oh. Yes.” She’d forgotten. Or blocked it from her mind.

  Kyle shuffled in, hair ruffled, drawstring pants and a rumpled T-shirt. “Any coffee?”

  Thankful for the relief from the awkward moment, Joss bustled into action. “I’ll make some. I was concentrating on making the tea and forgot.”

  Assessing Kyle, Eric’s eyes lit with intensity.

  On any other man, Joss would have labeled it jealousy. “Dr. Eric Hendricks, this is Kyle. My son.”

  Eric’s head snapped back, as if surprised. “Nice to meet you. I wouldn’t have guessed, you look too young to have a son…in college?”

  Nodding his greeting, Kyle said, “Yeah. I have to head out soon.”

  Eric raised a hand in a wave. “I’ll get out of your way too. You probably still have a lot to do.”

  Joss stepped closer. “You’ll stay for the open house, won’t you? Both of you.”

  “Course they will.” Annie grasped Kyle’s shoulder. “They wouldn’t disappoint us when we’re counting on them.”

  Kyle mumbled, “Sure.”

  “Wonderful. It starts at one.” Smiling, she turned back to her work.

  Of all the powerful forces in the universe, guilt ranked near the top. Not one Joss liked to use. In a pinch, it came through. She was careful not to employ it too often, though. Negative energy only returned the same, and drained her.

  “See you at one then.” Eric headed for the back entrance.

  Annie tapped her chin. “Interesting.”

  “Who is he?” Kyle poured coffee.

  “The local vet.”

  His expression turned sickly. “He comes to the house?”

  To cover her confusion, Joss opened the frozen lemonades. “No. I mean, not for Taz. For the horses boarding here. Dr. Hendricks takes care of them.”

  Kyle leaned against the counter and watched the blue SUV retreat. “Huh.”

  The single word conjured John in all his skepticism. Joss wondered, not for the first time, whether Kyle inherited any of her perceptions. “I’ll go dress and let the tea cool.”

  A wry smile tugged up his mouth. “You’re making lavender lemonade?”

  She forced a cheerful tone. “Yes, and I’m hoping Gram’s recipe will become Lavender Hill’s draw. Besides Annie’s great cooking, of course.”

  If lavender brought luck, she hoped in her case, it would be true for matters of the heart as well as business.

  Chapter 16

  Eric downshifted and steered the SUV into the SureMart lot. Normally he shunned this store, believing its chain the downfall of mankind. The need for groceries and to avoid seeing anyone he knew brought him there. If a place existed where he could be anonymous in a crowd, it was this store. Like a microcosm of a big city, it drew all kinds. And was the only local store tactless enough to stay open on a holiday.

  Wheeling a mini-cart inside, he aimed it for the food section. Shopping for one usually fooled him into believing he lived efficiently, and was self-sufficient. Today, the single-serving products seemed inadequate. He imagined Joss beside him, lifting a plump peach to her nose. No, she wouldn’t shop here. She supported local growers at the farmers market. It had amused him, at first, but grew to appreciate the notion one person could make an impact. He now stopped there for fruit and vegetables, and often lingered in the off chance he’d see her. A few times, he’d run into Annie. If she mentioned it to Joss, at least she’d think about him.

  Turning a corner, he should have been in the next aisle over, not the feminine hygiene products. He whirled the cart around and stopped dead, limbs stiff and cold. Sheree bore down on him with the focus of a huntress. When the front of her cart bumped his, she stopped.

  “Where have you been hiding?” Her snide tone was irritating, but at least she spoke in only one voice.

  “Not hiding. I’ve been busy.” He stepped back.

  Keeping pace, she advanced. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting and waiting.”

  Glancing behind him, he despaired at shoppers crowded there. He couldn’t make a break for it. “I told you I wouldn’t be back.”

  “You were with someone else. Don’t deny it.”

  “I don’t need to deny it. We aren’t dating.” He said it loud enough for the women nearby, who shot disapproving glances their way.

  Sheree hissed, “You were with her. The woman who owns the inn.”

  Why couldn’t she say Joss’s name? “I have to go.” When he jerked the cart back to steer around her, the corner entangled with the edge of Sheree’s cart.

  Demolition derby-style, she smashed both carts into the side, and tampons tumbled into his basket. Her eyes gleamed mischievously. “I know what they gave you.”

  With a nervous chuckle, he asked, “What? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Oh yes you do. They brewed their special tea for you. Do you know what’s in her tea?”

  He shrugged. “Herbs. Chamomile or something.”

  Sheree giggled. Not a girlish titter. No, this was a spine-tingling, shiver-inducing, watch-out-behind-you kind of laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. Chamomile. No, it’s much trippier than Celestial Seasonings. Their ingredients are illegal.”

  She’d baited him, but it didn’t stop him from asking, “What ingredients?”

  Shifting her hips, she smiled, then bent over, her rear protruding. “Did you know, in the Middle Ages, people brewed tea with primrose? They believed it helped them to visit the other world where goblins and fairies lived.”

  He half-shrugged. “Primrose is a flower.”

  “A flowering herb,” she corrected. “Used to induce symptoms of madness.” She said it in a teasing way, as if it were something teenagers might try.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “They took you dancing down the primrose path.”

  Her sing-song tone sent a chill through him. “No. They wouldn’t.” Would they? Or could that explain the awful nightmares? But then, whatever he’d ingested, it had helped him. Freed him of the strange urges—for Sheree. He never wanted to suffer those again.

  At her breathy laugh, the scar deep in his chest itched to life. Then burned. He could almost smell the stink of flesh. His own.

  She leaned closer. “I wouldn’t go to the inn’s open house. You never know what might upset your stomach.”

  Dread stilled him. “You’re not going, are you?”

  “I wouldn’t be caught dead there.”

  He resisted the urge to say pity. With one desperate grab, he jerked the cart to dislodge it, causing them to entangle worse than before.

  Demurely, Sheree stepped away, her amusement growing in tandem with his frustration and confusion. The racket of metal clashing against metal seemed to echo in the public address system.

  Teeth clenched, Eric glared at the curious passersby. “When will they replace these awful carts?”

  At his final attempt to free the cart, it tipped, spilling its contents.

  The burn in his gut spread. Get away from her. He fled the aisle, her taunting call echoing after him, “Cleanup in aisle six.”

  The resonating hiss reverberated in the PA system and screeched with feedback. Covering his ears, Eric worried his heart might burst out of his chest until he escaped into the light of day. He ran for his truck, slammed the door, and drowned out the noise with the squeal of his tires.

  * * * *

  At quarter to one, Joss paced between the window and the table.

  “Anyone?” Annie called from the kitchen.

  “Not yet.” What if no one came? Worse, what if something went horribly wrong when they did? “Our grand opening’s not starting off so grand.”

  “They’ll come.” Her friend’s casual tone gave away no anxiety, yet Joss knew by her constant primpi
ng and straightening of silver. Annie was trying to convince herself as much as Joss.

  Kyle carried his bag in and set it beside the counter.

  “Oh honey, not there.” Joss didn’t trust herself not to spill something on it. “Why not put it in your car?”

  “You might want to move your car,” Annie said, “so you don’t get blocked in.”

  “By the crowd of vehicles?” he scoffed.

  Realization struck Joss. Gram’s car was missing. Without a word, she’d left?

  Annie waved a spoon. “They’ll be here in droves. Before you know it.” At the crunch of gravel, she rushed to the door. “See? Here’s one now.”

  Joss smoothed the fabric of her sundress. “I’ll greet them.”

  Stopping in the foyer, she tucked a stray hair back. At footsteps on the stairs, she turned.

  Aunt Lydia descended in lavender Capri’s, a matching ruffled sleeveless top. Glistening peachy lips bloomed into a smile at seeing Joss, and she struck a pose. “Am I not dressed to kill?”

  Don’t remind me. “Definitely stunning.”

  Lydia twirled. “I’m wearing lavender in solidarity.”

  “It suits you.” She had more urgent things to consider. “Did Gram go somewhere?”

  “To pick up a few necessities. She’ll be back tonight.” Lydia rushed to Kyle as he walked in and pecked his cheek. “Such a handsome boy. You devastate the ladies, don’t you?”

  Kyle smirked. “I try.”

  “Let’s hope the inn is charming too. How does it look?” A scan revealed everything seemed to be in its place.

  Lydia squeezed her shoulder. “You’ve worked wonders in such a short time. Darling, you’ve always been such a force of nature.”

  “It runs in the family.” Joss peered outside, where a man held open the car door for a woman.

  Lydia set a hand on her hip. “Surely you’re not worried? Today will be a smashing success.”

  Had her aunt seen it in the cards? She wouldn’t ask. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

  “I always am.”

  Joss couldn’t argue. All her life, everything her aunt foretold had come to pass. She sometimes withheld information from her customers, especially bad news. Later, she’d told Joss what she’d seen. The future always caught up with each of them.

  When another pickup and a compact car wended down the drive, Joss sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. More people.”

  Lydia murmured, “Yes, it’s others we need to worry about.”

  She’d deal with it later. Joss plastered on a huge smile and went out to greet them.

  By two-thirty, people filled the tables on the patio. Blue morning glories climbed the iron trellis beside the summer kitchen, spilling over the roof. The scene would have been idyllic if Tom didn’t scowl at everyone’s approach. He stood alone beneath the wide branches of the oak that shaded the yard.

  Making the rounds with the pitcher, Joss avoided him, then returned to the food table where Annie doled hot cobs of corn onto a platter.

  A man walking across the grass caught her eye. Eric, carrying a red, white and blue bouquet. “He came back,” she whispered.

  Annie glanced over. “He said he would.”

  She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. To cover, she added, “Yes, but he’s so busy. He might have been called away.”

  “By who? The entire town’s practically here.”

  As Joss took in the crowded patio spilling into the yard, satisfaction warmed her. “Pretty much.”

  Eric stepped toward her and held out the flowers. “Happy Independence Day.”

  Much happier now that he’d arrived. “Thank you. They’re lovely.” But why so shy? If she read him right, he waited for her to say more, but about what?

  He ducked his head. “I don’t know what type of flowers they are.”

  “The beautiful kind.” It didn’t matter to her, only the fact he’d given them.

  Turning pensive, he shifted his feet. “An article said some flowers can be used as medicine or garnish.”

  What was he getting at? “Of course. It’s the premise of Lavender Hill Inn.” She led him to the table and poured a glass of lemonade. “Lavender is used as both.”

  At his skeptical glance, she smiled. “Go on. It will soothe you.”

  After hesitating, he sipped. “This is very good. I’ve never tasted anything like your lemonade.”

  “I hope not. It’s an old family recipe.”

  “Family secret?” He peered down at her, waiting.

  One of many. No need for him to know any more than he did already. “Handed down through generations.”

  Tom stepped beside her. “What’s your special ingredient?”

  Momentarily startled, she joked, “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret.”

  “Hemlock?” Tom asked loudly.

  She bristled at the accusation. “Of course not.” She didn’t expect any battles before nightfall.

  “Then what?” Eric asked. “Primrose?”

  Stunned, she couldn’t answer for a moment. Why was he siding with Tom? “No.”

  Tom slammed his glass onto the table and boomed, “It should be illegal to add untested herbs to drinks served to the public.”

  Everyone sitting on the patio or standing on the lawn turned to watch.

  Tom turned toward her, his back to the crowd. His eyes glowed red. “You should know better than to dabble in things you don’t know about.”

  So this wasn’t about the refreshments. Meeting his gaze, she drew to her full height. “In that case, you needn’t worry. I’m well versed in my field. I never dabble.” A threat she might not be able to make good on, but she’d do her best.

  Clenching his teeth, Tom gave a low hiss and stalked away.

  Eric whispered, “Were his eyes glowing?”

  She turned to him. “I don’t know. Are mine?”

  * * * *

  What the hell did she mean? Then Eric caught the slant of her brow. She was angry. Probably the primrose comment.

  A woman beside him said, “Jocelyn, your lemonade is the best I’ve ever tasted.” He’d concentrated so fully on Joss, he hadn’t heard the aunt’s approach.

  As if she’d waved a magic wand over the patio, everyone went back to their own conversations.

  Pointedly, Joss said, “Thank you, Aunt Lydia.”

  Lydia closed her eyes and lifted her chin. Her eyes popped open. “Oh. Very interesting.”

  “What?” Suddenly violated, he shifted away.

  Lydia’s hazel eyes caught the blue of the morning glories, chameleon-like. “How are you?”

  “Fine, thanks.” Until a minute ago.

  Easing away, Lydia peered at him with intensity. “Still, you must be careful. You might suffer a recurrence if you don’t take care of yourself.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” Whatever had sickened him, he doubted it would return, but he couldn’t deny the truth in her words.

  Joss shushed her aunt. “Not now, please. Can we please try to act normal?” Lifting a tray of cookies, she carried it to the tables.

  Joss’s retreat left Eric unsettled, as if he were a sailboat caught in the wake of a passing ocean liner. It put him off kilter, and he braced against the tug of her undertow. Was she some sort of herbologist, or was there more to her brew, as Sheree said? He might have found out if Tom hadn’t interrupted.

  I have to find out. Excusing himself, he followed Joss. “So what is in the drink?”

  “Nothing illegal.” The hurt in her face took him aback.

  “I didn’t say there was.” He hadn’t argued with Tom either. Taking her hand, he led her into the house. “I still need to know.”

  Anger brightened Joss’s lovely eyes and tinged her cheeks red. “How dare you?”

  He couldn’t let her beauty distract him from the truth. He eased closer and kept his voice low. “What did you give me the other night?”


  She glanced down the hall. “Certainly not hemlock.”

  “Primrose?” he prompted.

  “I’m not sure what Gram used. Whatever it was, it worked. Didn’t it?” She met his gaze with a defiant glare.

  “Maybe it did more than it should have.” A love potion? His desire for Joss had only deepened. His fingers itched to touch her skin, to pull her against him, hip to hip.

  The slam of the screen door startled them both to turn.

  A wild look in her face, Sheree stood on the threshold in a wide-legged stance, as if bracing for a fight.

  “What are you doing here?” Joss asked.

  The waitress’s sly smile widened. “I’ve come for Eric.”

  Shit. No way. “No, Sheree.”

  Sheree hugged the door jamb. “I want you, Eric. Come with me. Now.”

  Joss focused on her. “Leave, Sheree.”

  Why couldn’t she come inside? She writhed in a desperate struggle to enter, yet didn’t step over the threshold.

  She pointed at Eric. “Not unless you come with me. Now.”

  “Uh, no.” It would take a lot more than primrose to go anywhere with her. She’d never get her claws in him again.

  “Oh, yes. Willingly or not. I will have you.” She licked her lips. Extending her arm, she pointed a long red nail at him. A spark shot out of its tip.

  Heat lit beneath his skin, an ember reignited where The Mark had been. He clutched his chest.

  “Stop it.” Joss stepped closer to Sheree, then back to him.

  Sheree’s smile warped. “Stay out of this.” She crooked her finger, beckoning him.

  Breaking into a sweat, his feet slid toward the door. “No.” He exerted force against the forward movement. Still, he shuffled ahead. The burn in his chest intensified. His tongue became a dead weight. He managed, “I don’t want you. I want Joss.”

  Joss caught Eric as he crumpled. “Go away, Sheree.”

  “No.” But the demon waitress moved further back.

  Pressure eased on Eric’s muscles, and he exhaled in relief.

  Joss’s grip on him tightened. “I’m warning you for the last time. Go now.”

  Eric’s head swam as he registered the power in Joss’s voice. It anchored him.