by Liz Schulte
“Is Maggie Edwards there?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Combs and King Interiors. I’m calling about your order.”
I leaned against the stainless steel island and fiddled with my coffee mug. “Oh, hi. Do you need directions to my shop?”
The person on the other end hesitated. “No. I’m calling because there’s a problem with your order. The shipment, I’m afraid, has been indefinitely delayed. I do apologize for the inconvenience.”
“What? No. No, that doesn’t work. I open this Saturday. I need the display case and counter now. Today. In fact, yesterday would have been better.” This couldn’t be happening. “Is it a shipping problem? Can I just pick it up myself? Where is it being shipped from?”
“As I said, we do apologize for the inconvenience, and we will give you 15 percent off your total order. As soon as we have a confirmed date for delivery, I will contact you.”
“I don’t want a discount,” I growled, slamming my hand down on the counter. “I want my counters today or cancel the order.”
“There will be a three hundred dollar cancelation fee—”
“What?” I roared into the phone. “You told me they would come today. You didn’t live up to your end of the agreement. I won’t pay a penny for any services from you.” I hung up and hit the counter again with an open palm. I picked up a cupcake and squashed it—then flung it across the room. All that did was make another mess for me to clean up.
I clenched my fists and mentally counted to ten. With the vampire also came rage. I had never been an angry person before, and while I was learning to have better control, it was still a work in progress. Breathing in and out, I tried to release anger with each exhale. However, as my fury receded, tears came fast on its heels. I wouldn’t be able to open on Halloween. There was no way I could get what I wanted—and needed—here and set up in less than a week.
Chapter 2
No. There was no time to cry. Business owners weren’t allowed to cry. That was a rule somewhere, or if it wasn’t, it should have been. I forced back tears and cleaned the kitchen instead. When I was finished I checked on Boone, not that his progress mattered much now. You will open. Just not when you planned, the more reasonable of my inner voices consoled me.
The bench was perfect. It stretched halfway down the wall and was inlayed with bead board. An arm divider rested between each two-person wide segment.
Boone stood up. “That’s just primer. The real color will be brighter.”
I nodded. “It already looks great. Thank you.” I considered asking if he could build a countertop and display case, but he was probably booked and another crushing blow would turn me into a weeping female. “I’m going to step out for a bit. I need some air. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” He scratched his stubble that appeared dark next to his blond hair. “I heard your phone call.”
Holy crikey, he talks. I was so shocked it was hard to find my own words. “You were eavesdropping?”
“You were shouting.”
Fair enough. My shoulders sagged. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Obviously, I’m not opening this weekend. I should have allowed time for disasters, I know, but I wanted…” I wanted everything to go perfectly. I wanted, just this once, for my life to work out as I planned.
His tongue ran over his bottom lip in a thoughtless manner that wasn’t at all unappealing. “I could help…if you want.”
I laughed sharply, and my eyes stung again. “Can you also work miracles? I need it by Saturday for crying out loud!” I stared up at the corner of the room until the new threat of tears once again passed. “Sorry. Thank you for the offer. It’s very nice. I’d love your help. Can we talk about what I need later and can you let me know when you’ll be available? Right now, I have to cancel all the ads I placed for Friday and Saturday and take down the fliers.”
“Saturday shouldn’t be a problem,” Boone said before I made it to the door.
I pulled up short. “Are you serious? Don’t toy with my emotions right now.”
“I can do it.” He was so quietly confident that I believed him.
“I just want you to know, I might hug you.”
He nodded once, no smile. “Consider me warned.”
“The look I’m going for is cozy and elegant. The company I ordered from was perfect. The pictures they sent were pretty much what I was looking for.”
“I remember the pictures,” he said.
Of course he did. I sent them to him, so he could match the bench he was building to them. “Can you make it look like that?”
He shook his head slowly.
My heart sank and a fat, hot tear spilled over my eyelid which I quickly wiped away before he could see its pinkish tint. I didn’t want to settle, but anything was better than nothing. I probably couldn’t get a refund on my advertisements and if the other company charged me $300 to cancel the order they couldn’t deliver then I couldn’t afford to redo my marketing plan without dipping into the money I needed to actually bake.
“We could do something different though.”
“Like what?” I asked, trying not to sound too depressed. I had wanted my own bakery since I was a kid. I had a very specific mental image of what I wanted it to be. One way or another, I would bring that image to life. Even it took me a few years. It wasn’t the end of the world.
“I have some drawings in my truck.” Boone walked out the door before I could question him. Why would he have counter and display case sketches when I only hired him for a bench? He returned a minute later, sketchbook in hand. “These are just drawings,” he said, not handing it to me. “But I think it’s something we could do by Saturday.”
I stepped closer to him. “Why do you have sketches? Are you working on another bakery?”
He pressed his lips together. “Do you want to see them or not?”
“I do. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but…”
He opened his mouth, then closed it shaking his head. Finally, he spoke. “I started them right after you hired me to build the bench. I guess I was inspired by your vision.”
There were a lot of things I could picture Boone doing, but sitting at home at night drawing a girly bakery wasn’t one of them. “May I?” I reached for the book.
He handed it to me open to the page he wanted me to see. It was of the counter. The drawing was nothing like the design that I ordered. Instead there were pale sage green glass-front cabinets that hung on the wall in front of the kitchen with matching cupboards below and a butcher-block top. Two glass display cases connected by a wooden counter stretched all the way down to the kitchen door. An antique cash register was positioned between the display cases. “This is amazing. It’s like you plucked the thought from my head.”
He reached to take the book.
I moved away, flipping to the next page. Two white-framed mirrors hung above the bench—my bench— which was filled with colorful throw pillows that looked perfect with the pale lavender walls. Wicker chairs sat around the white bistro tables pulled out as if waiting to be occupied. The mirrors and chairs were exactly what I had already bought. In fact, the drawing was so spot on to how I envisioned it looking that it could have been a photograph of my thoughts. I couldn’t have described it to him this well. It was my vision exactly—right down to the chandelier and the shades of paint. “Those are my chairs and I just bought those mirrors last week. You couldn’t have known…”
He yanked the book from my hand, jaw clenched. “No one will believe you.”
I looked up. “Pardon?” Who wouldn’t believe me about what?
“It’s just a coincidence. Maybe you mentioned you wanted mirrors or I saw them. You don’t know when I drew this. No one will believe you if you say otherwise.” Boone backed toward the door. “Maybe you should find someone else…”
I shook my head, holding up my hands for him to stop. “Why would I say anything to anyone? Who would I even tell? Those sketches are great. I love
them. I like them better than what Combs and King designed. They’re exactly what I want. Don’t leave.”
He stopped, staring down at the floor.
I saw Boone with new eyes. He was quiet and avoided me, but he did so for the same reason I avoided my friends. He was some sort of supernatural something-or-other. But what could read minds? One thing was certain though, I was the last person he needed to be afraid of. “Look, I don’t know why we’re so in sync on the design, and I don’t care. You’re saving me. Do you really think we can do this by Saturday?”
He hesitated, then slowly looked up. Two dimples emerged. “I already finished the display case. It’s back at my shop.”
“What about the rest?” The sage cabinets were perfect.
He flipped his sketchbook open and scrawled something, then tore off the corner of the page. “Go here. They might have what you’re looking for.”
I glanced at the address. “Might?”
He shrugged.
Boone was quite the mystery, but it wasn’t like he was the only one with secrets. I was just grateful for the help. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I’ll swing by and pick up whatever you buy after I finish here.” He glanced back at the bench. “I need to get back to work.”
****
A serious depletion of my already hemorrhaging bank account later, I was surprisingly calm—or maybe I was just bewitched. I was positive there was something otherworldly about Boone. His drawing could have been made while sitting in the flea market he sent me to. Everything looked a bit rougher than he portrayed it, but was still recognizable.
The more cynical voice in my head pointed out that there was no way he would have wasted time designing and building a display case unless he knew mine wouldn’t show up. But I didn’t think it was sabotage or anything like that. Maybe he had some sort of magic or something that let him pluck the thought from my mind about how I wanted the shop to look. That same ability could have told him that my order wasn’t going to work out. Truly though, I didn’t care.
As I approached the bakery from the opposite side of the street, I saw Boone standing in the alley talking to a short man in a green army jacket with a black hood hiding his face. Boone handed him something cupped in the palm of his hand and leaned in close as he spoke. I had never seen a drug deal in real life, but this looked pretty much the same as it did on TV. My feet slowed as I watched. The fall had been warm so far this year, definitely too warm for so many layers, making the guy in green look extra suspicious. My carpenter was like Breaking Bad.
I hustled down the block to the crosswalk then across the street. Staying as close to the building as I could, I crept up on the alley, listening for snippets of their conversation, knowing full well it was probably innocent. Questioning Boone would be an invasion of his privacy, but stumbling, through no fault of my own, into the truth was another. And as a concerned citizen I had a right to know if my contractor made meth on the side.
However, aside from sounds of cars passing by, the rustle of the leaves falling to the ground, and the usual city noise, I couldn’t hear a damn thing. I eased closer and closer to the edge of the building, then peeked around the corner. Damn it. Empty.
“Did you find it?” Boone asked, suddenly behind me, making me jump.
“What? Who me? I wasn’t looking for anything.”
His eyebrows tugged together. “Are you okay?”
“Yep,” I said, my voice higher than normal. “Great. Perfect. Never better. I wasn’t looking for anything.”
He peered around the corner. “You established that,” he said softly. “Did you hit your head?”
I forced a laugh. “Good one.” I had to relax. It wasn’t like he could hurt me…or could he? I still didn’t know what he was. “When I was on the other side of the street I thought I saw someone hanging around in the alley. Did you hear anything?”
He shook his head, still looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
And now he was lying. Very suspicious. “Just too much caffeine over lunch, I guess.”
His gaze flicked back to me. “Did you find the cabinets?” he repeated slowly.
“Oh. Right. Duh. Of course, that’s why I went. Sorry. Um, yeah, they’re ready to be picked up whenever you have time.”
He nodded with a vaguely worried expression. “You know if you need to go home early today, I can lock up for you.”
Hmmm. Trying to get rid of me. “I have way too much to do. I’ll probably be here half the night.” I glanced back toward the alley, trying to think of how to bring it up again.
Boone was already walking toward his truck.
“Good chat,” I called behind him.
Okay, so he probably wasn’t a drug dealer. My imagination always bordered paranoia. But it was legitimately possible that he was from the Abyss. And that posed its own problems. I was the only half vampire as far as any of us knew and Holden had warned me that some people might find me very interesting. Of course, he didn’t expand on what he meant by that. To me it said I should keep my mouth shut about what I was or some evil corporation would find me and use me for experiments.
Now meeting Boone the way I had felt entirely too convenient. I just happened to stumble into him exactly when I needed a carpenter? Then today he just happened to be ready to come to my rescue again? All my gratitude aside, no display case was worth my freedom. Or maybe I’d read one too many Liz Schulte books and watched too many movies.
I sighed, massaging my temple. I needed to be careful around Boone until I had a chance to talk to Holden. It was probably nothing and Holden would laugh at me—or, at the very least, shoot me the how-can-you-be-this-dumb-and-still-be-alive look that he’d perfected over the years. Yeah, maybe I’d talk to Olivia.
Boone returned, his truck full to bursting, and spent the rest of the day painting and installing things. I pretty much stuck to the kitchen, but I kept an eye on him while making phone calls and confirming the rest of my orders would arrive on time. The kitchen itself had no windows, so I left the side door propped open just in case there was another alleyway meeting. It was dark outside by the time Boone stuck his head in the room.
“I’m going to call it a night. I put one last coat of paint on everything. It should be dry by morning.”
“So I should go out there and touch everything?” I grinned, but it felt strained. I glanced at my watch. It was already past ten. All my overthinking washed away with the shock. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t realize how late it was. Get out of here. Did you even eat today?”
He smiled a little. “About as much as you did.” That didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like I could go out and order a demon essence smoothie. “Have a good night, Maggie. Get some rest. Everything is going to be okay.”
“Do you like cupcakes?” I blurted.
He shrugged, but nodded at the same time. I grabbed one of my mango chiffon cupcakes from the refrigerator and handed it to him. “I need a taste tester.”
He eyed it for a moment. “Why what’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing. I just…I just want a second opinion. Menu-worthy or not?”
He took a bite. Happy surprise lit his face. “It’s good. I don’t really like fruit, but this is good. More than good actually. Tropical.” He licked a spot of whipped cream off his finger. He was definitely an attractive potential future kidnapper.
“Excellent! That’s exactly what I was going for.” My smile felt so huge I must’ve looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care. Knowing the cupcakes were good felt like a huge accomplishment. “I don’t know why I had it in my mind that they’d be terrible. It’s such a relief.”
“You didn’t try it?” He took another bite, cupping his free hand beneath his mouth to catch crumbs.
“No.” I shook my head and took a deep breath. “I’m diabetic. It’s pretty new for me. I’m still getting used to the no sugar thing.”
“And you decided to open a bakery?” He quirked one eyebrow.
�
��I like to live dangerously,” I said, packing him up a box to take home. “I’ll just end up throwing them away if I keep them.”
He laughed. “There’s a food kitchen at St. Michaels. And a homeless shelter not too far away. I’m sure they’d appreciate anything you want to give. How much longer are you staying? I could give you a ride home. It probably isn’t safe to walk alone at night.”
Right. Donating. I should have thought of that. “No, I’m fine. Thanks though. Have a good night.” He didn’t move toward the door and I didn’t know what else to do, so I hugged him softly—being careful not to squeeze too hard just in case he was purely human. “I really do appreciate all of this.”
He stared at me for so long that I had to suppress an urge to squirm.
“Did you need something else?” I asked.
He pushed his hair back from his face and glanced toward the front, mouth creased into a frown. “You might want to lock the door behind me.”
Chills spread over me as I followed his gaze, but I didn’t see anything. “Why?”
He continued to stare at the door like he was watching something, but if anything was out there I’d see it. My vision as a vampire was definitely better than a human’s. “Boone,” I said louder, touching his shoulder.
He jerked, but turned back to me like nothing happened. “It’s late, and you just never know what kind of people are out and about.”
“That’s comforting,” I said.
I followed him to the door, watched him drive away—and triple checked the lock behind him. Nothing was out there. Not that I had anything to be scared of anyway, I reminded myself for the millionth time. Nevertheless, I pulled all the shades down over the glass.
The first thing on the agenda for the evening—and it was the same every night—was to remove the evil contacts that had been torturing me all day. I breathed a sigh of relief as the burn ceased and I could finally relax. My thoughts drifted to Boone as I looked over the amazing amount of work he’d accomplished in a single day. He definitely didn’t seem human, but what did I know? I wasn’t like other people who could see auras or feel if someone was dark or light. All I could absolutely tell for certain was that he could occasionally read my mind and he didn’t want me to know. And I still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a little too prepared for all of this, swooping in for a rescue. Then the thing with the door freaked me out.