“Mom,” I moan. “Please tell me you’re not into this, too.”
“Nope.” She pulls out a silver compact and checks her look in the mirror. “I’ve got me a good man.” She gives a sly wink, and I wince because I happen to know that she’s dating Jasper’s brother, Maximus Wilder. He owns his own restaurant in Seaview. Although at the moment, only Mom and I know that she’s dating Jasper’s bother. I haven’t even confessed the familial malfeasance to Jasper yet.
Mom stretches her lips back as far as they’ll go in a mocking smile to my sister. “I’m just here supporting my daughter in an endeavor to learn all about the male species.”
“Yes, well,” I grunt. “Believe me, you’ll want to unlearn it as quickly as you can.” I pull out a few ID badges from the drawer beneath me. “Here, show them these, and give one to Georgie, too. They’ll let you in for free. The last thing we want is to pay for this catastrophe.”
They take off just as a trio of pretty girls heads this way. They all look to be somewhere in age between Nessa and me. And since Nessa is in her early twenties and I’m mid-to-late, that sounds about right.
There’s a strawberry blonde with her hair in an adorably messy bun, a sweet brunette with a tiny nose and big pouty lips, and a copper-haired girl with a short precision cut that sits just underneath her ears. The copper-haired girl’s eyes keep flitting around as if she were expecting to see someone in the crowd. She looks shifty and altogether uncomfortable.
Nessa gasps at the sight of them as she flags them down. The copper-headed girl on the end gives a slight wave and shouts that they’ll catch her inside before they speed off to the registration table.
Nessa leans in. “That’s Chelsea, Shelby, and Scout Pratt. Those are the friends that I went to school with.” She says friends with air quotes. “They’re the ones that know Ginger. Chelsea and Shelby both run really successful socials.” She wrinkles her nose as if the idea disgusted her.
“Socials?” I shake my head while still looking in the direction of the girls.
“Yup. Social media. They’re some of the most sought-after influencers on the planet.” She sighs. “And poor Scout. Chelsea and Shelby pretty much hazed her last year. She was just getting out the gate as an influencer and was high in demand until Chelsea and Shelby pulled a few stunts. It was all in fun, but after the disaster that ensued, Scout had to give up her dreams of being an influencer. Believe me, no one is crying for her. She opened up a PR company and landed Ginger King as her first client. I really do like Scout. But don’t get me started on how I feel about Shelby Harris. Now there’s someone I wish I never had to see again.” Nessa turns and offers a spastic wave to Grady Pennington, our other co-worker, who just so happened to walk through the door. “Grady’s here to man the fort. I’ll see you inside, Bizzy.”
She takes off just as Grady, a dark-haired Irish god, as the girls around here like to call him, takes over at the helm. Grady, too, came to the inn after graduating from college last year, and he’s been an invaluable employee ever since. Both he and Nessa keep telling people this is just a stepping stone in their lives, but I’ve grown so used to them I’d hate to see either of them step away anytime soon.
“Mmm mmm.” Grady shakes his head with an approving, somewhat greedy, grin blooming on his lips as he looks to the crowd thick with beautiful women. “Is it my birthday, Bizzy? Because you really didn’t have to go overboard with the pretty girls. It’s not against the law for me to demand their phone numbers, is it? I mean, of course, I’ll be needing their numbers for official inn business.”
“How about you just mind your own business?” I laugh as I give him a quick rundown on those who have checked in and those who are checking out before I step around the counter and join the thick crowd milling around in the lobby.
The Country Cottage Inn feels every bit my own, but it happens to belong to a wealthy earl in England. He pays me to run the place as if it were my own, and I do just that. I love every last inch of this beautiful place. And the inn is just as stately inside as it is outside with its stone façade and its blue shutters adorably ensconcing each of the many windows. Ivy runs up over every speck of the exterior, giving it a true Ivy League appeal. The estate sits on a vast acreage and boasts of over thirty cottages that we rent out as well. I happen to live in one as does Emmie—and as does my quasi-boyfriend, Detective Jasper Wilder. Jasper recently transferred to the neighboring town of Seaview after he had an abrupt breakup with his girlfriend.
Another robust crowd streams into the inn, and a part of me wonders if we’re breaking fire code with all of these dolled-up bodies. I can feel my stress levels start to go up, and I cringe because I know what’s coming.
I could just kill.
When I get my hands on her.
If only I can land myself a sugar daddy.
A bevy of voices go off at once in my head. It’s exactly what happens when I’m stressed. I hear every thought in the vicinity.
Thankfully, it’s nothing I deal with on a daily basis, but something tells me that until Ginger King and her minions vacate the property, I’ll be listening in on one too many internal conversations all at once.
For the last time—
I hope they have at least one man who knows how to use his tie.
I gasp at that last one as the mental snippets come in faster and faster.
There will be heck to pay.
Won’t get away with it.
“Bizzy Baker?” an all too familiar deep voice strums from behind, but before I can turn around, his spiced cologne permeates my senses as his arms find their way around my waist. He lands a soft kiss to my cheek before I spin in his arms and take in this six-foot-two, dark-haired, gray-eyed deity.
Jasper and I haven’t openly discussed being an official couple, but we sure do enjoy spending all of our free time together glued at the lips. You’d think we were training for the kissing Olympics the way we’ve been going at it—and believe me when I say, we would definitely medal. And who could blame me for training so hard? Jasper Wilder is a god among men.
A slight titter goes off in the crowd as the women around us stop in their tracks to ogle him.
A whistle goes off near the ballroom, and soon everybody in the foyer drains in that direction.
“Careful,” I say, hiking up on my tiptoes and gifting him a kiss on the lips. “You’re causing a scene.”
A warm laugh strums through his chest before it stops abruptly and his eyes widen as he looks to something at the door.
I follow his gaze to find a stunning woman with long, wavy, dark hair, eyes that shine like fiery ambers, and a face that has probably graced every magazine cover from here to France—she’s just that beautiful.
The woman stops cold once she spots Jasper and their eyes lock for a moment before she quickly takes off for the registration table and hustles into the ballroom herself.
“Jasper, do you know her?” I ask.
She looked angry with him, or terrified to see him, or both, but I don’t dare say that out loud.
“Yes, I do.” His muscles tense around my waist for a moment. “That’s Camila Ryder.”
My heart sinks at the thought of Jasper knowing such a beautiful woman—and the fact he still seems stunned to see her doesn’t make me feel all that great either.
“Can I ask as how you know her?” I keep my voice steady as I try not to freak out. And yet something in me is demanding to do just that.
Jasper twists his lips with a look of disdain. “She’s my ex-girlfriend.”
I hold my breath for a second.
“Your ex? The one that left you for your best friend?” My fingers pop to my lips, but it’s too late. I’ve already unleashed the words. And yes, that’s exactly what happened. Jasper’s ex hightailed it out of his life for best friend pastures. A totally unkosher thing to do. I say good riddance.
“That’s the one.” He shakes his head as he wraps his arms around me tightly. The last person on earth I wan
ted to see here tonight.
I glance in the direction of the ballroom, trying my hardest to see if I can pick up on her thoughts, but it’s just a jumbled choir of voices.
She’ll have to go.
This had better work.
I’ll want my money back if I don’t land a decent catch.
I’ll have to kill her.
I crimp a wry smile up at Jasper.
Something tells me the rest of the evening will be murder.
Chapter 2
The ballroom of the Country Cottage Inn is buzzing with excitement as Ginger King stands at the front of the room, holding sweet little Peanut in her arms as she preaches and teaches about all things bawdy and slightly distasteful.
Mayor Mackenzie Woods made the introduction, and that put a sour taste in my mouth right at kickoff. Mack and I used to be friends until she all but tried to drown me in a whiskey barrel when we were kids. And it just so happens that soon after that oxygen-deprived, panic-inducing event, I’ve had the strange ability to pry into other people’s minds. I also have Mack’s whiskey barrel attack to thank for the fact that I’m terrified of bodies of water and confined spaces. But despite her effort to snuff me out—accidentally she says—our friendship hobbled on right up until high school where Mack saw fit to steal every one of my boyfriends. Suffice it to say, we weren’t friends for very long after that.
Rows and rows of white ladder-back chairs have been set up here in the ballroom, and each one is filled with a warm, beautiful, mostly youthful body.
Ginger has been rambling on and on, giving all her best tips and tricks on how to snag a man. So far they consist of suggestions to whiten your teeth, find a medical spa that will inject botulism into your face in an effort to paralyze your wrinkles into submission, take a small loan to buy out the beauty counter at your local mall, and piece together a wardrobe that consists of leather and lace. But the meat and potatoes is offered up at the end when she brazenly suggests women go after much older men—preferably those with money.
“Stalk the man you’re interested in, show up where he shows up,” she chants, much to the enthusiastic applause of the room.
Ginger goes on to extrapolate on the finer points of ambush dating—that’s where the stalking comes in.
Is he enjoying his coffee alone? Join him.
At a bar having a drink? You make sure you’re right there next to him.
And let’s not forget the lip plumping, the intense hair color analysis, and the ridiculous six-inch stiletto requirement.
In my opinion, a woman should only do any of those things if she wants to—and only for herself. Sure, I’ve whitened my teeth and chosen an outfit that I thought looked vampish a time or two—but I didn’t do it in an effort to snag a millionaire. Okay, fine. I did it in an effort to snag a homicide detective, but Jasper was well worth a high heel or two.
And speaking of millionaires—that’s another thing Ginger expounded to the masses. Millionaires are no longer a hot commodity. Apparently, you can find a run-of-the-mill millionaire driving around in a sedan while wearing argyle sweaters.
I had to roll my eyes at that one. I happen to like both sedans and argyle sweaters, and I couldn’t care less that Jasper wasn’t rolling in billions.
Macy jumps out of her seat and heads to the refreshment table in the back, so I give Jasper a quick pat to the knee before following her over.
I can’t believe I invited Jasper to join me.
What was I thinking?
He’s going to laugh for a year straight after listening to this bobble-headed brainwashing taking place. Not that I could blame him.
Macy snaps up a handful of the pumpkin spice mini muffins the Country Cottage Café delivered fresh and hot. Emmie and I thought up the recipe ourselves.
All my life I’ve wanted to be a baker, and considering my surname, it only seemed natural. But, unfortunately, I’m anything but natural in the kitchen. I tend to burn, undercook, or on rare occasions, both, anything I attempt to create—and honest to God, that itself seems to take a talent. But it doesn’t stop me from trying my hand at baking up a sweet treat.
“Can you believe this?” Macy whispers as she nods to the front where Ginger seems to be wrapping up her psychotic spiel. “It’s like a coven in here, featuring all the prettiest witches Maine has to offer.”
“Funny,” I say. “You’re not really buying into the spell she’s casting, are you?”
“Are you kidding?” My feisty sister’s eyes bug out. “I’ve already downloaded the audio book so I can play it on a loop. I’m thinking about having it on while I sleep. You know, letting it sink in on a subliminal level. Do you know who’s not buying into it?”
“Me,” I deadpan and she makes a face.
“No.” Macy gives me the crazy eyes. “Our mother. Can you believe she has a boy toy to call her own? And here I am single and desperate to mingle.” She pops a mini muffin into her mouth and chews with haste. “I can’t wait to meet him at the Haunted Harvest Festival tomorrow. I’m not sure who’s more excited, her or me. I bet he’s old and wrinkly and has a bank account loaded with dead presidents.” She pops another mini pumpkin spice mini muffin into her mouth and moans as she heads back to her seat.
“Dead presidents?”
A riotous applause breaks out, and soon enough the bodies are circulating throughout the room. Emmie’s pumpkin spice mini muffins start disappearing at an alarming rate, and it only pleases me to see it. I’ll have to do a refill run quicker than anticipated. I’d say they were a bigger hit than Ginger and her manhandling ways—but, seeing that there’s a thick crowd mobbing her at the moment, I doubt others would agree with me.
Georgie runs up with her purple kaftan flowing behind her, a huge rather naughty looking grin on her face.
“Can you believe it, Bizzy?” she beams as she snatches up a few pumpkin spice mini muffins herself. Her gray hair is wild and wiry and adds an all-around charming granny appeal. “Every pot has a lid! Ginger said it herself. You can’t make that stuff up.”
“Please.” I can’t help but avert my gaze. “She didn’t have to make a single thing up. She borrowed every tired adage that came from her mouth. You could be miserable and rich just as easy as you could be miserable and poor? No one should be wowed by that line. I didn’t realize she was shilling misery along with fool’s gold.”
Georgie swats me up and down the entire right side of my arm. “Would you hush? You’re liable to get us booted right out of here.”
“Georgie, I run the inn. No one is booting me out of…” I’m about to finish making my point when I spot a sight that makes my heart stop cold.
Jasper is locked in what seems to be a rather cozy conversation with Camila Ryder, his ex-girlfriend who looks as if she should be walking a runway in Milan, not at some slimy seminar on how to snag a man. She obviously doesn’t need help in that department. A woman as gorgeous as Camila could snag any man she wants.
And then it hits me. I bet she found out that Jasper was staying here. Of course. It makes perfect sense. She didn’t come here to listen to tips on how to snag a man. She came here to execute the plan—by stealing my man.
Jasper glances my way and does a double take once he spots me ogling them.
I turn away quickly and pop a pumpkin spice mini muffin into my mouth.
Great. He’s going to think I’m spying on him. Worse yet, judging him for wanting to talk to someone that he’s clearly intimately acquainted with.
Georgie leans in. “He’s headed this way, Bizzy. And he’s bringing a leggy brunette with him. What were you thinking bringing a sexy vampire like Jasper to this cesspool of wanting and desire? A dozen different women are bound to have their fangs sunk into him by the end of the night.” She glances back and shudders. “Incoming. I’ll be back.” She scuttles off just as Jasper steps up with his old plus one.
“Bizzy”—Jasper’s pale gray eyes seem to be pleading with me on some level despite the tight smile on his face�
�“I’d like you to meet an old friend. This is Camila Ryder. Camila, this is Bizzy Baker. She’s the manager here at the inn.”
Manager at the inn? Is that all I am?
I blink back at the cordial yet cold introductions.
Although, what was I expecting him to say? This is the love of my life?
We’ve just exchanged a few heated kisses. My heart sinks despite the fact. A part of me was hoping he would have given me a warmer title. Camila here gets to be his friend, while I’m the manager.
“So nice to meet you,” I say. “Will you be needing a room at the inn?” I blink in disbelief that I even threw out the offer. Of course she doesn’t need a room at the inn. She lives a hop and a skip away in Sheffield. Jasper told me as much just a few weeks back. And she happens to be the very reason he left that town.
Her mouth rounds out. “Actually, I would love a room. I’m having my kitchen renovated. They just did the demo work yesterday and it’s completely useless to me.” Her lips curl my way. “What a great idea, Bizzy. And to think I thought I was doomed to a month of making coffee in the bathroom.” A warm laugh bubbles from her, and I can’t help but like her at least a teeny bit.
Me and my big ideas.
“What brings you to the seminar?” I clamp my lips shut tight because obviously I need a muzzle around the woman. I can’t help it, though. She’s so pretty and fun to be around. A ridiculous part of me wants her to like me.
She bats her long lashes at Jasper. “Leo and I are over.” She shrugs. “Sometimes I do things that I really regret—and spending time with Leo Granger was one of them.”
Perfect. It takes everything in me not to openly frown.
I remember Leo Granger. He showed up at the café last month, prying into my mind, letting me know that he could read them, too. I still cringe at the thought. He threatened to come back and hunt me down for who knows what.
Last month, at the Harvest at the Cove event, his aunt ran into Georgie, and Georgie inadvertently spilled the supernatural beans regarding the fact I can read minds. Word got back to Leo and he was immediately on the hunt. Needless to say, he tracked me down in record time.
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