Cookies, Curses, and Kisses (Blue Moon Bay Book 1)

by Jovee Winters

  I wrinkled my nose. It was more than time to go.

  “Well, um, good seeing you bo—”

  “Edward and I actually came out here tonight in search of some specimens to help pass the time.”

  “Specimens?” My brow furrowed. “That sounds sinister.”

  He chuckled. “Not really. I’m a herpetologist.”

  At that, my heart banged so hard in my chest I was shocked he hadn’t heard it. “I love reptiles. How fascinating!”

  He cocked his head, giving me a fiercely appraising look, staring at me with keen interest in his dark-blue eyes. “Really? I’m shocked. When I mention what I do, most women look ready to faint at the thought of snakes and lizards.”

  My laughter was heartfelt and light as I said, “Honestly. I’m a wi—” I jerked, coming to myself.

  Holy cow, I’d almost confessed to being a witch.

  With a swift shake of my head, I cleared my throat before saying, “I’m wild about them, truly. I have my own collection, should you ever care to see it for yourself.”

  The invitation was out of my mouth before I’d even thought it through. I bit my back teeth, instantly regretting my words.

  He blinked, smile firmly locked on his handsome face. “I would. Thank you.”

  Edward sidled over to his father’s side. Zane laid a heavy hand on his son’s thin shoulder and squeezed affectionately but without obvious thought. I almost sighed. I loved how easy their relationship seemed.

  Lapis had managed to wind herself between Edward’s tiny legs, purring and rubbing her big head against his ankles, making him squeal with laughter.

  Sweet as Lapis was, my familiars were never quite so friendly with anyone. Even Malachite the spawn of Beelzebub himself had crept out of the shadows and nearer to the boy. That devil cat liked the little one more than me. I was sure of it.

  I coughed into my fist. Why had I invited him over to my house? Already regretting it, I hoped he wouldn’t show up and that this would become nothing more than idle conversation that went nowhere.

  Biting my lip, I nodded and, with a swift jerk, pulled on my other boot. My laces were untied, but I really had to get going already. Reruns of Leave it to Beaver and a nice warm mug of whiskey and ginger root awaited me this evening.

  With a swift wave, I turned to go, but Zane’s deep voice stopped me. “Wait. Um, I wondered, my son is... well, bored out of his skull would be the appropriate description. I wondered if you maybe had any suggestions to help us stave off death by ennui.”

  Against my better judgment, I found myself laughing at his hangdog expression and pointed with my thumb over my shoulder. “There’s a carnival at the pier every night. Popcorn, cotton candy, hot dogs, and lots and lots of rides. Maybe start there.”

  I didn’t stick around after that. I turned on my heel and ran, wishing I’d remembered to stow my riding broom with my clothes this evening. I’d come woefully unprepared. That wasn’t going to happen again.

  Zane Huntington III

  I WATCHED HER FADE into the deepening shadows of twilight, heart banging like a drum in my chest.

  What in the devil had she been doing out here in the middle of nowhere, dress disheveled, hair in wild disarray, looking like she’d just woken up? Or done other things. I glowered and my pulse quickened at the memory of her ivory skin aglow with the rush of blood in her cheeks, of her glass-green eyes looking wary at first, until she smiled. At that, I’d forgotten everything but the smell and look of her.

  She’d looked like a wild fairy thing, standing out in the middle of nowhere. As tussled as she’d looked, I had glanced around the clearing for any signs of a possible lover, thinking I’d maybe interrupted their afternoon delights. But there’d been no one.

  So either she was a wild fairy, a witch hoping to dance naked beneath the light of a full moon, or, like she’d said, she’d come out here for a solitary walk that I’d interrupted.

  Occam’s razor said it was the third option, but seeing her like that, all wild and breathtakingly lovely... there’d been something almost magical about it. All the fine hairs on the nape of my neck had stood on edge, and each time I’d inhaled, I’d smelled roses so strong that, if I’d been blindfolded, I’d have sworn I’d accidentally stumbled into a garden of them.

  There were no roses anywhere, though. Edward and I had been roaming these woods for the past hour, trying to find my newt again. We’d had hours to kill and nothing else to do, and I hadn’t stopped thinking about that gorgeous red belly all day.

  “Daddy?” Edward said softly. The cats, who seemed as fond of him as he was of them, had scampered off to God only knew where.

  “Yes, Eddie?” I said, still staring at the spot where she’d been last. All I could think about was finding where she lived so that I could study her collection and see if she was as much of an enthusiast as she’d claimed.

  Liar, that same obnoxious small voice in my head declared, a voice I was quickly coming to despise.

  “Why did you ask her where to go when we were already going to the carnival tonight?” He sounded genuinely confused.

  I’d hoped my five-year-old wouldn’t catch that, but it was clear from his confused look that Daddy was totally busted. Not sure how to handle this without stuttering like a fool, I shoved my fingers through my hair and licked my front teeth.

  I didn’t want to like that woman. In fact, I didn’t want to like any woman, not after Elle. I’d sworn there would never be anyone else for me. And there wasn’t, not even Zinnia.

  But I’d be a liar in the extreme if I said she hadn’t intrigued me from the moment I’d laid eyes on her. A strange mix of sultry and innocent, she spoke like no one I knew, with a gentle lilt in her voice that sounded oddly transatlantic, which was impossible since that accent had died out decades ago.

  But seeing her barefoot in these woods, with brambles caught up in her dark-brown ponytail, looking dirty and earthy, I’d felt a spark flare through my blood and hum in my bones.

  Something I hadn’t felt since Elle’s death.

  I sighed deeply and stared down into eyes like my wife’s, feeling that familiar squeeze I always did when I looked at our boy. “Someday, you’ll understand. Anyway, you ready for some hot dogs? I’m famished.”

  A grin split his cherubic face. “Ready!”

  I could not deny this place was good for my boy, a thought that made me feel both anxious and incandescently happy all at the same time.

  Zinnia Rose

  I GROANED AS I ENTERED my small, gingerbread-style, two-story Victorian home. Dropping my keys into the empty fishbowl beside the door, I leaned heavily against the wall.

  I was bone-weary exhausted. I no longer even wanted to watch reruns or eat. I just wanted my bed and a few hours of shut-eye. It wasn’t common for me to feel this way after waking, but there were some days I was sure I must have run fifty miles at least. Too bad I could never remember any of it.

  Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I whispered a quick prayer to the Mother that no one—especially the sexy Zane Huntington—would show up tonight. But suddenly, the air danced and prickled with the energy of a casting spell.

  Blinking open my eyes, I half expected it to be one of my aunties demanding to know how things were going with my “intended,” but it wasn’t the image of their floating heads staring at me. It was Eerie’s.

  She wore the familiar carney makeup and hairstyle I was used to, but where before Eerie had always looked like a haunting and sad beauty, there was a spark in her clear blue eyes.

  “You’re positively radiant tonight, Eerie,” I said with a grin. “What’s the occasion?”

  Her answering grin blazed across her expressive features. “A date, Zinny! I have a date. My first date in... oh dear Goddess, I haven’t a clue.”

  My eyes widened, and joy burst all through me. I, more than anyone, knew what the curse had done to my dear friend. What it had cost her. How she’d kept herself purposefully detached because she never wanted to
confess to her potential partner what she really was.

  “But, but...” I said gently, not wanting to burst her bubble of hope. It was just that, eventually, the topic was bound to come up, wasn’t it? “Your condition?”

  She rolled her wrist. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. I’m not there yet.” She touched her cheeks with her hands. I noted the slight tremor in her fingers. “I just can’t believe it. I hadn’t meant to accept, and in fact, meant to say no, but yes slipped out instead. I’m just... I can’t. He’s so gorgeous, Zinny and... and kind and lovely and...”

  I was astonished as I watched my normally morose friend transform into someone completely different, right before my very eyes.

  I was still worried for her. Of course I was. I didn’t think there were too many men in the world who could accept that their date was dead-ish. But I couldn’t deny her the seldom known joy of her first—and to my best knowledge, only—date she’d ever been on.

  “Oh, honey, good luck.”

  “Well...” She squinched her pretty features. “I was actually calling for two reasons. See, the carnival is insanely busy tonight, and in order for me to get the time off, I need someone to man my booth. I wondered if maybe you could spare Delilah tonight? Or even Maybelle?”

  Hope blazed like a wildfire in her eyes. My heart sank. Neither of my girls could pick up the shift because of me, and the only way Eerie could go on her date would be if someone did.

  I winced and eyed my empty sofa with longing and lust. I was weary to the bone, but I wouldn’t have to do much at the booth other than stand by and man the milk jug games.

  Obviously noting my delayed response, Eerie’s happiness slowly burned out. “Oh,” she said. “I underst—”

  I held up my hand. “I do know of someone, though Delilah and Maybelle can’t make it tonight. Give her about twenty minutes to get rea—”

  “You’re a saint, Zinny! An absolute peach.” Eerie grinned back at me with startlingly white teeth. “Thank you, thank you. And tell her thank you from me too!”

  “I, ah...” I didn’t get a chance to say more because Eerie was already gone.

  I rolled my eyes. “Rhatz.”

  I didn’t want to do this, not really. But I would do anything to keep Eerie smiling like that. Sliding my wand out of my pocket, I whispered, “Saturnalia agunt habitu.”

  A shimmering, glittering veil of phosphorescent green shrouded me. Power prickled like tiny bolts of lightning against my flesh. When the light faded, I was dressed in a gown far sexier than anything I’d ever worn before. A goodly amount of gams peeked out from beneath the hem of the tight-fitting black dress that sparkled and reflected the light from whichever direction I turned. Not to mention what the gown had done to my bubs. I cupped my breasts, not sure I was brave enough to show quite so much cleavage.

  “Rhatz,” I groaned again, but there was no help for it now. Eerie had a date, and come hell or high water, I was gonna make it happen for her.

  When I got there, though, there was a change of plans. Trudy, who’d been tasked with manning Madam Bouvier’s fortune-telling parlor, had happily squealed that it would be far better for an honest-to-Goddess witch to play the role than a shifter with the imagination of a squirrel. I’d never even gotten a chance to agree. She’d simply shoved me inside and scampered off, supposedly to tend Eerie’s booth.

  I sighed. I didn’t think this night could get worse.

  Which just showed what kind of a fortune teller I was, because the trouble had only just begun...

  Chapter 7

  Zane Huntington III

  I’D EATEN MORE HOT dogs and cotton candy in the past hour than I probably had in my entire life. So had Edward, whose mother had been the one to make sure we had more than one stalk of broccoli on our plates at dinnertime.

  Stomach full, mouth tasting of candy and pig fat, I looked down at my boy. “Well, what now?”

  “Rides?” he asked, brown eyes alive and hopeful.

  I snorted. “Don’t think so, little buddy. Not with all that grease in our bellies.”

  His face fell, and softy that I was, I didn’t want that. We hadn’t been in Blue Moon long, but something was happening to my child out here. He was transforming, morphing from the sullen, anti-social little kid who worried me daily, into someone entirely different, someone I could connect with. He was turning back into the kid he’d been before.

  He was laughing, making jokes, pointing, and exclaiming at all the lights and sounds of the turn-of-the-nineteenth-century-inspired boardwalk carnival. I had to admit, even I was impressed by the scope of the place and the attention to detail.

  Everything had a charming Atlantic-boardwalk, prohibition-days kind of feel to it. All the booths were painted white with red-and-white striping, and bold letters proudly proclaiming each game. The carneys wore striped vests and spoke in that strange, yet eloquent dialect that Zinnia did.

  I had to admire their dedication. No one tripped up, not even the town’s residents who were visiting, not working, the pier.

  There was a walk-through haunted house, a carousel with gold-embossed stenciling and hand-painted animals cheerily going round and round to the strains of big band music pumping loudly through the speakers, and off in the corner, a small violet-colored tent with a sign that read “Madam Bouvier, Palm Readings. Love. Fate. Destiny. 0.25 cents.”

  I snorted. The carnival seemed to be obsessed with the occult. I wasn’t sure if it was exposure to the old lady’s pentagram at the gas station or what, but I wasn’t as bothered by it this time around.

  “Well, we’ve got a haunted house, a pair of horses, or getting our palms read. What’ll it be?” I looked down at Edward, who was staring wide-eyed and fascinated all around him.

  The sights and smells of a nighttime carnival were turning out to be a good idea when all was said and done. I hadn’t gotten upset about my car even once, or the fact that it was entirely possible we’d be staying another night.

  In fact, all I could think was that after we rode a few rides, it might be nice to end our evening at the Golden Goose with a round of milkshakes each. I shoved my hands into my pockets, rising up on my toes at the sudden tremble in my stomach that had nothing to do with hunger for food.

  A part of me didn’t know how to feel about the emotions I was experiencing, and yet I craved them—the excitement, the questions, the curiosity, even the nerves. But feeling these emotions brought up others as well, churning up memories of Elle, how it had all started for us, and the “us against the world” mentality we’d built for one another. She’d been my everything, and I’d been hers. No one would ever take her spot in my heart, but for so long, I’d thought myself dead inside.

  So it was a shock to discover that the rock in my chest still beat. It was fractured and splintered, but it was definitely still there. My thumb brushed absentmindedly at my chest.

  “Palm reading!” Edward said with a hard tug on my hand as he pointed to the tent.

  My brows dropped, taking a second to recall what we’d been talking about. I shook the thoughts of Elle from my head. “Fortune telling? Not the haunted house or the carousel?”

  He shook his head. “No. I have a question.”

  Seeing a couple walking toward us hand in hand, I directed my son toward the edge of the pier. The gentle lapping of shadow-darkened water against the wooden posts was soothing.

  Edward looked up at me with innocence and hope in his eyes. I knelt beside him so we were at eye-level, and placed my hands on his shoulders, squaring him up to me.

  “What question?”

  He shook his head and, with a serious look, said, “I’ll ask her.”

  More than a little curious now, I nodded. “Okay, buddy. You got it.”

  Standing, I headed for the tent, my stomach a nest of nerves. What in the world did he want to ask? Whatever it was, I really hoped whoever worked here wouldn’t laugh at him.

  With a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, we step
ped through the darkened entrance.

  I blinked several times at the spooky and strange neon-green light that filtered mutely over everything it touched. I hadn’t known what to expect in here, but certainly not a massive-looking foyer draped with gauzy silk fabrics in rose, gold, and vibrant turquoise. It had looked nowhere near this scope from the outside. There was a heavy-looking crystal chandelier hanging several feet above our heads, but no electricity ran to it. Instead, dozens of white candles of varying sizes were secured in the branches, their flickering glow adding to the macabre illusion.

  A long black desk sat beside me. On it were three skulls with their mouths hanging open and that ghoulish, green glow emanating from the eye-sockets and mouths. Beside them were three small black cages. One had a pair of sleeping black birds inside. Another had a fat candle surrounded by ivy, and the third held a giant toad, its warty skin the color of dead leaves. Despite the low lighting, I attempted to ascertain its species.

  Glancing around to make sure we were still alone, I stuck my finger through the bars and gently rubbed the back of the toad’s head. Two things happened at once. It croaked—a long, low, guttural sound that vaguely reminded me of Chewbacca—and a slimy secretion began to ooze from the gland at the back of its neck.

  Even without the secretion, I’d have known from the sound alone that this was a cane toad, toxic to the unwary and an incredibly invasive species.

  With a curl of my lips, I wiped the residue off on the hem of my jeans.

  Edward, who had released my hand a bit ago to investigate this peculiar parlor for himself, was standing on the other side of the tent, looking down at an ancient-looking book, its edges frayed and stained a dark brown.

  It was resting on a black pedestal. As I neared my son, I studied the pedestal, wrinkling my nose when I realized why it had caught my eye. It was a hand, or rather the bones of a hand, painted deepest black.

  “Step away from there, Edward,” I whispered, wishing we hadn’t come into the tent after all. My skin was crawling with goosebumps, and the strains of haunting violins playing softly on in the background wasn’t helping matters much.