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

by Mandy M. Roth

  Mine?

  He tripped over his own two feet in the middle of Main Street and nearly fell flat on his face. He recovered, rather ungracefully, and found all eyes on him.

  Buster laughed so loud that Hugh considered turning around and body slamming the man. He resisted. It was hard.

  Curt grinned and smoothed his jacket front down. “Hugh, I see you’ve taken to doing your own stunts now too. How is our bet coming? Willing to concede?”

  “How about I shove my sunflower up your whoops-a-daisy?” As the ridiculous question left his lips, he remembered what Polly had done and cringed.

  Penelope’s expression lightened more. “Your what up his what?”

  Hugh grunted.

  Curt smiled wide, looking entirely too pleased with himself for Hugh’s liking. “Dare I ask what is going on with you?”

  “Eat your vegetables,” snapped Hugh, meaning anything but that. His mouth and brain didn’t want to connect.

  Curt snorted. “This is an interesting change. Are you going to double dog dare me next?”

  “Caramel fudge,” returned Hugh, his anger growing, but he found he was unable to articulate it the way he used to. “Fiddlesticks.”

  Penelope beamed. “I like it. I’m going to have to use that one. My go-to is typically ‘hold the pickles,’ but I see room for improvement.”

  Wait. She liked this side of him?

  Great.

  She’s not only beautiful, and from a family known to hunt mine, she’s nuts too.

  He found he didn’t care. He still wanted her. More than wanted her, and he’d be damned if he let Curt get his hooks into her. Curt was more of a womanizer than Hugh, and that was saying something.

  “Go away,” he snapped at Curt.

  “Rude, seeing as how I was here first,” returned Curt, grinning.

  Penelope launched into a fit of sneezes. “Excuse me. I think something in Everlasting doesn’t agree with me. I swear I normally only sneeze this much around cats.”

  Hugh and Curt locked gazes. A slow, calculated smile spread over Hugh’s face as he heard Penelope talk about being allergic to cats. “Does that apply to large-breed cats as well or just domesticated ones?”

  Curt’s eyes widened.

  Penelope stepped closer to Hugh, and he nearly leaped with joy. “Big ones too. I always sneeze at the zoo when I’m around large cat breeds. Lions are the worst for me.”

  Hugh couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from him. Curt was a lion-shifter. Could it get any better than this? Maybe she’d have an allergy to piles of money too. That would totally rule out Curt.

  Petey and Buster eased closer.

  Petey offered Penelope a wide smile, despite the fact he smelled like he’d been distilling whiskey all night. “Do my eyes deceive me or has a mermaid come from the sea to wow us with her beauty?”

  Penelope let him take her hand and seemed pleased when Petey kissed the back of it. “Why thank you.”

  Hugh simply stared at his longtime friend, wondering if he was possessed. Petey was never flowery. The most romantic thing he did was take Polly his catch of the day. And even that consisted of him wrapping a fish in newspapers and plunking it down on the woman’s counter, giving her a smile that lacked all its teeth.

  “Petey?” asked Buster. “Are you still drunk?”

  “Hi again, Buster,” said Penelope. “Why does Hugh have the fine jar now?”

  “Conceding?” asked Curt, looking hopeful.

  Hugh considered using hand gestures but refrained. “Eat a fish stick.”

  “What in tarnation is a fish stick?” demanded Petey.

  Curt’s amused expression drove Hugh mad. “Something you want to share with the group? Why are you suddenly insulting me as if you’re three years old?”

  “Told ya you sounded like a preschooler,” said Petey.

  “Figured when in Rome,” said Hugh, narrowing his gaze on his longtime friend. If the man wasn’t one of the closest people to Hugh, he’d consider killing him just because of how arrogant Curt tended to be.

  The line moved forward and Betsy, a waitress at the diner, peeked out at them and smiled wide, chomping her gum as she did. “A table for five?”

  “Yes,” said Buster.

  “No,” answered Hugh and Curt.

  Hugh reached out, snaked an arm around Penelope’s waist, and dragged her against him. “A table for the two of us, please, Betsy.”

  “Oh really?” asked Curt.

  Penelope pried Hugh’s arm off her. “What are you doing? Only this morning, you were debating on telling Deputy March I ran you over on purpose.”

  “I apologized for that,” said Hugh. “Besides, you’re the one who hit me.”

  She snorted. “Because you haven’t learned how to cross a street yet.”

  “Are we eating now or what?” asked Petey. “I’m starving.”

  Buster eased closer to Petey. “Betsy, Petey and I will sit at the counter.”

  “Fine by me,” said Betsy, holding the door open for them. She then looked to Hugh, Curt, and Penelope. “What about you three?”

  Penelope squared her shoulders. “Hugh and Curt are sitting together. I’ll take a spot at the counter next to Petey and Buster please. Thank you.”

  Curt appeared amused by her antics. “It would appear the lady doesn’t want anything to do with either of us.”

  “The lady is having dinner with me. She already agreed, and there are no take-backs.”

  “Yep, still sounding like a three-year-old,” said Curt.

  Penelope followed Betsy into the diner, leaving Hugh with Curt. “Kiss my grits.”

  “Uh, thanks, but no thanks,” said Curt with a snort.

  Chapter Eleven

  Penelope turned the shop sign to read closed and was about to pull the shades when Hugh appeared at the door. He stood just outside, looking at it as if it might bite. He took a few steps back from the shop front and then glanced around before taking a deep breath and approaching the door once more. He spotted her and then seemed to relax.

  The last she’d seen him had been when she’d waved to him from across the diner, enjoying seeing him stuck eating lunch with Curt. She’d had a wonderful lunch with Petey and Buster. Though Petey had smelled as if he’d bathed in whiskey. The older man could certainly eat. He’d polished off three full plates of the lunch special before she’d even made a dent in her bowl of soup. Buster had a healthy appetite too. She’d said her goodbyes and had headed back to the shop, leaving Hugh with his friend.

  She opened the door and stood there. “We’re closed.”

  “I know,” he said. “It’s why I’m here. You agreed to have dinner with me tonight, and since you didn’t let me near you for lunch, I came to cash in.”

  She opened her mouth to protest.

  He lifted a hand. “And I’ve found some information about the dead guys.”

  Her curiosity got the better of her, and she backed up, holding the door open for him. “Okay, you win. Come on in. I have to finish closing up the shop for the evening.”

  Hugh swallowed hard and tugged at his shirt collar. “Can’t Wil do that? Is he here?”

  She noticed Hugh had yet to put a foot over the threshold of the shop. “Grandpa ran out of here early this morning and has called a few times throughout the day. Looks like I’m on my own. I just have a few things to finish up first. Come on in.”

  He stilled. “Uh, I’m good here.”

  “You’re not afraid to come in, are you?” She laughed. “I don’t bite.”

  “If you did bite it would only turn me on more,” he said before letting out a long, slow breath. “Fiddlesticks.”

  She laughed at his soft curse, and his face was suddenly a wash of brilliant crimson. “Are you coming in or are you going to stand out there, leaving the impression that you’re terrified of my grandfather’s antiques store?”

  He begrudgingly entered, extremely slowly, glancing around as if he were expecting the roof to cav
e in on him at any moment. “This is the first time I’ve ever been in here.”

  “Really? Why? Not a big fan of antiques?”

  “Not a big fan of hunters,” he said quickly.

  “My grandfather doesn’t hunt. He isn’t a fan of killing animals either.”

  He snorted. “Is that what he told you?”

  She didn’t comment but rather went to the register to finish gathering the day’s receipts to tally. Hugh followed close behind. So close that when she stopped to adjust a sign on a chair, telling people not to sit on it, Hugh slammed into her, knocking her forward.

  She gasped.

  He caught her around the waist and steadied her quickly, causing warmth to spread through her body. She gasped again. Did the man have to not only be incredibly good-looking but also have super-fast reflexes? She really was an accident waiting to happen and truly could use someone around her to keep her from walking off cliffs.

  “Sorry,” he said softly, easing his hands off her hips.

  She twisted to face him, her intent to thank him. As she lifted her head to look him in the eyes, his lips met hers.

  For a moment, Penelope’s mind went totally and completely blank. Before she realized it, her palms were pressed to his steely chest as their tongues danced intimately with one another.

  Coming to her senses, Penelope broke the kiss and stared up at Hugh.

  His eyes were closed, and he looked as if he’d gotten as swept up in it all as she had. When he looked at her, there was hunger in his gaze. “Ready to go solve some murders and then get some dinner?”

  A laugh bubbled up from her. “As soon as I finish up here. Are you going to be okay waiting in here?”

  He stood there, his hands on her hips once again. “I find I’m liking this place more and more.”

  She smiled.

  He looked at a shelving unit near her and lifted a brow. “What in the world is that?”

  She followed his gaze to the shelf and found a case of eyes staring back at her. “Those are antique glass eyes.”

  He shuddered. “They give me the willies.”

  “Come on, a big strong guy like you is creeped out by old glass eyes?” she teased.

  He took a step back. “Yes.”

  Laughing, she pointed to the other side of the shop. “There is a duchesse chair over there. You can wait there for me.”

  He took a step in that direction then paused. “Uh, there are like a hundred chairs in here. What in the world is a duchesse one?”

  Penelope walked to the long chair that was near the wall and touched it. “This is a duchesse chair.”

  “You want me to sit on a fainting sofa?” he asked, shaking his head. Despite his protest, he sauntered over to the chair.

  She suppressed a grin. “We’ve established you’re delicate. You are scared of old glass eyes.”

  The edges of his mouth twitched before he laughed and sat. “Do your thing. I’ll be here, being all delicate.”

  She wasn’t sure the man could ever actually be thought of as delicate. Everything about him screamed alpha male. He oozed testosterone. He was the type of guy who looked like he could bench press a small house. Craig hadn’t been like that. He’d been one of those men who was always worried about having a manicure and never having a hair out of place on his head. She couldn’t imagine Hugh ever showing his face in a salon. He was rugged, and that was a huge turn-on.

  Penelope hurried through the paperwork for the shop, happy that her grandfather had detailed notes on how to do it all. The man seemed to have detailed notes on just about everything in the shop. Even the price tags contained the price, the item’s name, and a brief history. Some items had signs near them with additional handwritten information regarding what they were and where they were from. His attention to detail was impressive. And while Penelope had that same level of commitment to antiques and the auction house, it did not extend to her personal life or her apartment.

  As she finished double-checking the daily logs against the instructions on how to do them, she paused. Had her grandfather written out how to do everything because he was getting ready to retire or sell the shop? Did he really need her there rather than in Chicago?

  The more she looked around the shop, the more she could see herself there, day in and day out. But could she give up all she’d worked so hard for in Chicago?

  As much as she loved her twenty-four-hour-a-day amenities in the Windy City, she found Everlasting was growing on her. And quickly too. In less than a day, she was already dreaming about the possibility of making it permanent. Did she dare?

  She finished the day’s paperwork and found Hugh asleep in the duchesse chair, snoring softly. His body was far too long for it, so his legs and feet hung off the end. He had one arm tossed up and partially over his head while the other arm was across his washboard abs. He looked like a fallen god there and as the sun poked in from a window high above, a ray of light found its way to his face. It illuminated him in a way that made her breath catch. She already knew he was incredibly handsome, but it looked like even Mother Nature was swept up with his good looks. He didn’t so much as budge as the faint light continued to cover his face. She almost hated to wake him.

  If he spent too much time resting there, he’d undoubtedly get a stiff neck, and she couldn’t let that happen. Then she’d be compelled to offer to massage him, and that would lead to her touching his sinful body. Her willpower couldn’t handle all that manliness, and she wasn’t ready to go down the path that would lead to. At least not just yet.

  She nudged his foot, and he shot out of the chair at a rate of speed that shocked her. She’d never seen anyone move that fast.

  He glanced around wildly, looking as if he expected a frontal attack or perhaps an explosion. “What the blueberry pancakes?”

  She stifled a laugh at his outburst. His colorful expressions made hers appear less odd, and she liked that. Liked knowing someone else got her, quirks and all. “You certainly have a way with words.”

  It took Hugh a few seconds to get his bearings about him and then he calmed. “Yeah, I have Polly to thank for that.”

  “I have got to meet this woman,” she returned, wanting to see the woman whose name had come up more than once since her arrival in Everlasting.

  Hugh rubbed the back of his neck then stretched his arms high above his head, causing his shirt to pull up. As suspected, laundry could be done off his torso. Penelope nearly groaned as desire raced through her. Real men didn’t come built that way. Was he really a fallen god? One who cursed using words like “fish sticks”?

  Hugh’s lips curved upward, his grin one that said come hither. “Yeah, with Polly, just don’t eat or drink anything from her and you’re fine.”

  “Oh, is she a bad cook?” asked Penelope.

  “Nope. She’s a great cook. The problem is, you always get more than you bargain for.” He stretched again. “Once I got fleas.”

  She snorted. “What?”

  He eased her hand into his and lifted it, planting a kiss on the back of it. “Never mind. Are you all set now?”

  “I am. What did you find out about the men they discovered this morning?”

  “They weren’t locals,” he said. “That is peculiar in itself. The spot they were found in isn’t really easy to find unless you know the area well, and if the time of death lines up to what they think, that means these guys were out there at a time of night when no one, not even locals, go there.”

  “Do you think they came by way of boat?” she asked.

  “No. The storms that blew through would have made that spot a bad place to take a boat. There is a great cove just down a bit that is well known and offers shelter from rough seas. Plus, there was no evidence of a boat wreck there or where the current tends to dump things from there. My guess is those men were down there on foot, and that takes some doing. The path to that area is hard to find even when you are from here. And really, anyone down there that time of the night, in those storms
, has to have been up to no good.”

  “Does Deputy March have any leads yet? Other than me?”

  Hugh shook his head. “No. He’s still looking at you for this from what I can gather. He hasn’t returned my calls yet today, and that is strange. Jake and I are friends. The last I saw of him was this morning after I walked in front of your car.”

  “Jake?” she questioned, unsure who they were talking about.

  Hugh snorted. “You know him as Deputy March, but his name is Jake Majoy.”

  Penelope pursed her lips. “So why does he go by Deputy March?”

  Laughing, Hugh stayed close to her. “That would be the sheriff’s doing. She’s going through what we like to call a midlife crisis. Though none of us say that to her face. She’s taken to hiring men of a certain age group, with certain physical traits. Anyways, someone made the suggestion a couple of years back to have the deputies pose for a calendar, with the proceeds going to charity. They did. The rest is history. I’m pretty sure the fire department is now considering doing the same thing. Those guys don’t like all the attention the deputies are getting.”

  Penelope’s face lit. “Aha, and Deputy March must have been shown for the month of March.”

  “You got it. All the guys are now known by their calendar month, not their names,” said Hugh.

  Penelope snorted. “I haven’t met the sheriff, but I already like her.”

  Hugh kept hold of her hand as she led him through the shop and into her grandfather’s house. When she entered the kitchen, she found a note on the table and her bags near the staircase. Confused as to how her luggage managed to find its way to her at her grandfather’s, rather than the B&B address she’d given the airlines, she stepped forward.

  Lifting the note, she read it out loud. “Sandra from the B&B rang to let me know your luggage arrived. I went ahead and picked up your things. You’ll be staying with me, where you belong. I ran into Betsy from Chickadee’s Diner, and she told me you enjoyed the bean soup, so I put more in the fridge if you need it. I’ll be out late tonight, don’t wait up. Love you, Grandpa.”