Once Hunted, Twice Shy: A Cozy Paranormal Mystery (The Happily Everlasting Series Book 2)

by Mandy M. Roth

  When Penelope told her the price, which was enough to buy a small car, the redhead appeared sad. She reached out, lovingly stroking the figure Penelope held, and then lifted it from her.

  When the blonde tried to snatch hold of it, showing no regard for the item, Penelope’s temper flared.

  She caught hold of it and gave the blonde a look that backed her up. She also took the other candlestick holder from the woman. “Thank you for the offer, but the price marked is the price. And I believe this woman was here first.”

  The blonde snapped back and then glared at Penelope. “Why I’ve never.”

  “Really, with your winning disposition I’d have guessed you run into this a lot,” returned Penelope, offering a hundred-watt smile.

  With that, the blonde stormed away, her tantrum lessened by the light ding of the bell above the door to the shop. Dinging never really added anything to a dramatic exit.

  The redheaded woman teared up. “I love them, but the price is just too steep for me.”

  The strangest urge to offer a discount came over her, and she wasn’t sure she should. She knew what the figures would go for at auction and they were priced under that. Far under it. “I’m sorry, but my grandfather owns the shop, and I don’t feel comfortable changing his pre-marked prices.”

  The phone to the shop rang three times before an answering machine picked up. The message played of her grandfather sounding lost as to how to properly work the machine while he recorded a message. There was a beep, and her grandfather’s voice came over the room. “Penelope, sorry I had to rush off. I’m a bit tied up now so feel free to handle the shop any way you see fit. Don’t forget to take a lunch hour too. Oh, and can you mark down the Chinese famille rose porcelain elephant figures? Discount them down by twenty percent. I’m sure they’ll find the right home then.” He hung up.

  Penelope stood there a moment, holding the figures, feeling a bit like she’d entered the Twilight Zone. She glanced at the redheaded woman. “Turns out I can offer a twenty percent discount on them.”

  “Sold!” the woman shouted, smiling wide a second before tears came to her eyes. “My mother used to collect these types of things, and when I saw them, they made me think of her. I lost her a year ago today.”

  Penelope paused. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you so much,” said the woman, following Penelope to the register.

  Within a few short minutes, Penelope had the figures wrapped securely and bagged and was running the woman’s credit card. She handed the woman her receipt and waved as the woman hurried away.

  The steady stream of patrons died down, and Penelope decided it was the perfect time to take a lunch break. She closed up the shop and headed out front. She turned the sign around in the window, letting it read out to lunch as she locked the shop door.

  At first she’d been concerned about running the shop without Grandpa there. It wasn’t as if she had experience running a store. Tourists had filtered in and out all morning, asking questions about various pieces. With her background with antiques and auctions, answering their inquiries was easy. As much as she hated to admit it, she liked working in the shop more than at the auction house.

  Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she was hungry. She double-checked the sign letting patrons know that she’d be out to lunch was showing. She then turned to survey downtown Everlasting, looking for a spot to eat. A fairly long line was out the door of Chickadee’s Diner, so she headed across the street toward it.

  She took her spot at the end of the line, behind a tall, well-built, and well-dressed gentleman. His dark hair hung just past his ears and was swept back from his handsome face. As he turned, his green gaze locked on her. His brow rose. “Interesting outfit.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  From the looks of his designer suit, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a puppy dog sweater.

  He grinned. “Big fan of dogs?”

  “I love them,” she said before sneezing rapidly.

  His smile widened. “Bless you.”

  She sneezed again. Embarrassed, she blushed. “Sorry. I usually only sneeze around cats.”

  His eyes widened a second before he cleared his throat, tugging at his collar. “That is strange.”

  “Totally,” she said, glancing at the long line. “The food here must be awesome.”

  “It is,” he said with a look that could charm just about any woman. “You’re new to town. I haven’t seen you here before.”

  “I’m just visiting. I’m here to see my grandfather for a week or so and then it’s back to Chicago for me.”

  He watched her. “I see. A Windy City girl? I could have sworn you have hints of a Southern accent when you talk.”

  “I was actually born here but moved to Mississippi at a young age. Went to college in Chicago and then stayed there to work.”

  “Ah, that explains the accent.” He stepped forward as the line moved up a little. “Who is your grandfather?”

  “I’m not sure I should tell you.”

  He faced her more. “Why? Don’t trust me? I could gather character references if you’d like. Most everyone around here knows me.”

  “I don’t even know your name,” she said.

  He held out a well-manicured hand. “Curt Warrick.”

  “The same Curt who made a bet with Hugh?” she asked, remembering the back and forth between Hugh and Sigmund.

  Curt appeared impressed. “One and the same. Dare I ask how you know about the bet?”

  “I got a firsthand look at the fining system,” she mused. “After I hit Hugh with my car.”

  Curt tossed his head back and laughed loudly, drawing the attention of the others waiting in line. “Tell me he required medical attention.”

  She gasped. “No. And aren’t you his friend?”

  “I am.”

  “Then why would you want him to get hurt?”

  Curt waved a hand in the air. “Oh, have no fear. Hugh has a really hard head. He’d be fine. And he heals fast. We both do.”

  “You’re kind of weird,” she blurted.

  “I’m not the one wearing a puppy dog and fire hydrants,” he said with a wink.

  “Fair point.”

  Chapter Ten

  Hugh steadied Petey as the old man stumbled slightly leaving the Magic Eight Ball. Thankfully, Hugh had managed to shake Buster for a while. He’d last seen Buster racing in the direction of the coffee shop, looking frantic.

  Perfect.

  Hugh sighed. As predicted, he’d found Petey at the bar, out cold, face first on a table.

  Oddly enough, a plate of Polly’s famous cranberry cookies had been next to the man. With Polly, one never knew what might be tainted with magic, so Hugh threw the cookies away. Once, he’d foolishly eaten a piece of cake she’d made him, and he’d gotten stuck in wolf form for an entire week. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d gotten fleas that week as well. Petey had been left having to give Hugh a flea dip, all the while doing his best to keep from laughing at the situation. Turns out, she’d been testing a potion and wanted to see the side effects on a shifter. Hugh had been the only shifter dumb enough to eat the cake.

  From what Hugh had heard, Polly’s niece Anna no longer permitted Polly in the kitchen at the bakery, but Hugh knew what a sly fox the old woman was, and didn’t trust she wouldn’t try something else. She’d been at him for days to clean up his mouth and win the bet against Curt. While it was great to have her help, it also worried him. Polly was always well meaning, but her assistance and support often came with a level of unpredictable chaos.

  Petey wore bright yellow rain gear in the form of bib suspenders and a jacket with a detachable hood. The color was so bright it bordered on obnoxious. Paired with fishing boots, a flannel shirt, and a knit cap, Petey looked a lot like Quint from the movie Jaws. The two sounded a great deal alike as well. If Hugh didn’t know better, he’d have sworn the actor had based his portrayal of the character on Petey.

  Petey
was an old-school fisherman who didn’t care about trends or what was acceptable or not. The man had served in the navy, and sometimes his mind remained there, stuck in the past, in battles long ago. Hugh was always patient with him, understanding the man had lived a hard life. As a fellow wolf-shifter, Hugh felt Petey was his responsibility. Pack took care of pack. Period.

  Now Petey owned and operated the bait and tackle shop in town and helped do guided tours with Hugh’s fishing charter. All normally went well until Petey decided it was time to tie on too many at the Magic Eight Ball. Hugh would call Shorty later and discuss cutting Petey off sooner.

  The people of Everlasting didn’t mind his outbursts or his oddities.

  “What time is it? I gotta get my traps in,” said Petey, falling slightly against the exterior of the Magic Eight Ball. “Lobsters are out there, wanting me to catch ’em.”

  Hugh sighed. “Petey, let’s get you home so you can finish sleeping this off.”

  “It is what it is,” said Petey, no longer making sense—not that he was well known for making a ton of sense to start with.

  “Yep, now come on. You need to shower and rest. You smell like you took a bath in a bottle of whiskey.”

  “Been there. Done that. Don’t want to waste good whiskey on it again.”

  Hugh groaned. “Petey, you have to stop this.”

  The old man drew up short and pointed at him. “I’ll show you where a bear goes in the woods.”

  Hugh nearly laughed at the threat (if it could even be called as much). “Okay. Show me later. For now, come on, or I’m going to toss you over my shoulder and carry you.”

  Petey lifted his fists in a manner that said he was ready for a boxing match. “You’re all bark and no bite. My wolf can kick your wolf’s backside.”

  Hugh snorted. “And you’re a walking book of idioms.”

  “Drastic times call for drastic measures,” supplied Petey, slurring his words somewhat.

  “Yeah. Sure they do. Let’s go. Tourists are out and about now, and we don’t need pictures of you all over the internet in that outfit. You look like that guy from the fish sticks box had a rough night.”

  “What’s a fish stick?” asked Petey.

  Hugh paused. “I’m not exactly sure. I probably don’t want to know.”

  Petey stood as straight and steady as he could, considering the state he was in. Hugh ended up having to slide an arm under Petey’s and lift him partially off the ground, doing his best to make it appear as if Petey was still in control.

  “Whoa,” breathed Petey, glancing down at his feet. “I’m floating.”

  Hugh said nothing as he headed back in the direction of the marina. Several locals walked past, each looking as if they understood Hugh’s current plight. A group of tourists neared and one pointed to Petey.

  “Look, honey,” the woman said. “Everlasting has homeless people.”

  Hugh growled low in his throat, making the woman and her husband hurry along their way. Hugh looked ahead—and froze as he spotted Penelope in the line out in front of Chickadee’s Diner. That didn’t surprise him as the diner had great food. What did catch him off guard was who she was conversing with.

  Curt.

  The wolf in Hugh unfurled and tried to push upward. As much as Hugh attempted to keep hold of it, he failed and felt his upper arms suddenly covered in a light gray coating of fur.

  Petey laughed. “Oops. Letting the wolf out of the bag, are you?”

  Nervous, Hugh’s gaze darted around as he turned into a small alley with Petey, hoping to avoid being seen by any tourists. He’d thought the threat of Buster losing control and turning into a were-rat was the worst thing he’d have to deal with today.

  How wrong he’d been.

  He opened his mouth to speak but found his incisors lengthening quickly as his jaw began to shift shapes. The sound of Penelope’s laugh carried across the street and made his gut twist. Anger coursed through him, and he found himself wanting to seek out Curt and end the man for daring to not only be close to Penelope but make her laugh as well.

  Mine.

  The word raced through his head, causing additional panic to assail him. That did nothing to help him find his center and gain control of his shifter side. If anything, it made it worse. He released his hold on Petey and lurched back, staring down at his hands as claws emerged from his fingertips.

  What was happening to him?

  Petey pointed to his hands and laughed loudly. “That is a horse of a different color.”

  He shot the man a panic-stricken look.

  Petey drew upon a resolve that Hugh wasn’t aware the old man had. He touched Hugh’s shoulder and gave it a good squeeze. “Calm yourself there, boy, else you’ll be peeing on a fire hydrant soon.”

  That did it.

  Hugh pulled on his control and managed to get his body to return to human form. His hands shook as he thought about how close to a full shift he’d come in broad daylight, out in the public’s eye. Worse yet, he was thinking of a woman in terms of being his and his alone.

  He was not a one-woman man.

  He was a man who played the field and avoided commitments at all cost.

  Why was he suddenly all about Penelope? A woman who was a direct descendant of a family he loathed and feared?

  “I’m broken,” he said softly.

  “Keep your chin up,” said Petey, glancing behind him and then at Hugh. “Did you see where I left my catch?”

  “What?” asked Hugh.

  “I have a giant squid. It was wearing a wristwatch. Caught it on Main Street last night,” said Petey. “The darn thing walked right past me. Had the head of a squid, the legs of a man, and a whole lotta arms. It was headed in the direction of the lighthouse.”

  Hugh stared blankly at the man. Everlasting was known for weird and wacky occurrences, but a giant walking squid was pushing the boundaries. Next Petey would be talking about dancing elephants. “How much did you drink?”

  “There you are,” said Buster, coming around the corner, sweat dripping from his temples. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Hugh groaned. Did the man have him LoJacked? How did he keep finding him, and didn’t he have a life outside of following Hugh around?

  Buster had the jar in one hand and a small cup of coffee in the other. He thrust the coffee at Hugh. “Here. I stopped by Witch’s Brew, and Anna sent this coffee over for you.”

  “Anna did?” Hugh asked, making sure Polly had nothing to do with the coffee.

  Buster nodded.

  Hugh took the cup and was about to hand it to Petey to help sober him up when the overwhelming urge to drink it came over him. He downed it quickly.

  Buster stepped back. “Well, Polly said that Anna wanted you to have it when she gave it to me.”

  Hugh’s eyes bulged. “Polly gave it to you?”

  Buster nodded once more. “Why?”

  Hugh lunged at him only to be caught by Petey. “No killing the were-rat. There is paperwork, and you hate paperwork.”

  Growling, Hugh leveled a hard look on Buster. “If I get stuck in wolf form for a week again, I’m going to eat you.”

  Buster gulped.

  Hugh decided to let his thoughts on the matter rip. “You son-of-a-biscuit, bacon-loving daisy-head.”

  Buster and Petey shared a look as Hugh shook his head, unsure why he’d said what he did. That certainly wasn’t what he’d been aiming at. “What the ever-loving peanut butter and jelly sandwich did I just say?”

  Ever-loving peanut butter?

  Petey raised his hand. “Uh, I’m not sure what you just said there either. Am I still drunk? Anyone else happen to notice a giant walking squid? I swear I left him out here last night. Never met a squid that could untie knots, but he got out of my ties.”

  Buster paled and took a step back, his attention on Hugh.

  Hugh glared at him. “I’m going to rip the tags off your mattresses.”

  What?

  Rip th
e tags off mattresses?

  Petey scratched his head. “I never thought I’d say this, but I think I drank too much. Hugh is talking like he’s in preschool. Where is the foul-mouthed wolf-shifter we’ve all come to know and loathe?”

  Buster licked his lower lip. “Erm, Polly mentioned something about the bet being a sure thing now.”

  Hugh thought about the coffee he’d downed, and knew then Polly had cooked up a potion. He just wasn’t sure what all the side effects would be. One was clearly the inability to curse. He glared at Buster. “Fiddlesticks!”

  Buster burst into laughter. Petey followed suit.

  Hugh’s ears reddened as he grabbed his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a ten to hand to Buster. “Here. We all know what I meant to say.”

  Buster kept laughing. “I can’t take money for fiddlesticks. Wait until I tell Sigmund and Curt about this.”

  “Barnacles!” exclaimed Hugh, his anger in full force but his words sorely lacking.

  Petey laughed more, bending and patting his knee for effect. “This is great.”

  Buster nodded in agreement. “No one will believe it until they hear it.”

  Petey stopped laughing and scratched his scruffy chin. His salt-and-pepper hair stuck out from under his knit cap in all directions. “Hugh may not be able to curse, but he probably could still eat you. So I’d be careful there, Buster.”

  Hugh perked at the idea.

  Buster held the jar out to him. “Here. Consider it a refund.”

  Hugh caught the jar a second before Buster released it, leaving Hugh standing there with his curse jar and a slightly sober Petey. He glanced at Petey and then froze as the sound of Penelope’s laughter found him once more.

  The alpha side of him responded, leaving him no choice but to head out of the alley and back onto Main Street. She was like a siren, and he couldn’t help but answer her call.

  Was he right to first think she was dangerous? She was a Messing after all. Was she why he was suddenly broken?

  Petey followed close behind. “Are we off to see a man about a horse, or a meddlesome witch about a potion?”

  Hugh ignored him, focusing instead on Penelope. She was still in line with Curt, looking entirely too pleased with the man’s company. The next thing Hugh knew, he was marching across the street, his sights set on the woman. If she thought she was going to fall for the charms of Curt, she was wrong. She was his woman. Not Curt’s.