by Kate Angell
“That is so.”
“When’s the last time you had a date?” she asked.
“Who said anything about dating?” Sawyer said, washing down half the bottle. “Dating is a headache.”
“It’s getting to know someone.”
“It’s a waste of time,” he countered, coming up behind her and squeezing her shoulders. “There isn’t a woman out there worth all that.”
“You don’t get lonely?”
“I have Duke,” he said, laughing when she rolled her eyes. “Besides, I’d never find the right mix of someone who’d put up with me. Next time you’re brewing up potions, maybe you can craft me the perfect woman.”
“Well, sure,” Amelia Rose said, lifting a spoonful to smell the broth. “I’ll get right on that.”
Sawyer leaned over to sniff the pot. “Now works, too.”
She chuckled. “Sorry, it’s just soup.”
“I said next time,” he said, winking. “No rush.”
“Well, since you’re preordering,” she said. “I assume forty-four, twenty-four, forty—”
“Surprise me,” Sawyer said, snatching another piece of corn bread from the platter.
“Blue-eyed blonde who bats her eyes?” she asked, turning to flutter her eyelashes.
Sawyer laughed. “Blue eyes are good. But make it a brunette. Batting optional.”
It was a joke he perpetuated—teasing her about her fabled “mystical” abilities. Amelia Rose was more than his employer. She’d been kind of a mother figure to him ever since he landed in town all those years ago. She looked out for him in a way, so he returned the favor. She never appeared to care one way or the other what people thought of her, and that was part of why he loved her, but he leaned toward the more realistic side of things. Fortune-telling and other magical hooey might be popular around this area, especially at Halloween, but he believed in setting his own fate. And changing it. No one person could look out there into the cosmos and point at an end result.
That being said, if anyone had a fifty-fifty shot at it, it was Amelia Rose. He’d seen enough in his twelve years in Moonbright to at least give him pause.
And if asked, he’d deny that a hundred different ways.
“So, have you ever been in love, Sawyer?” Amelia Rose asked, her tone dancing in that zone he recognized. The one that said none of this was random and she’d just been building up. “The real kind, I mean?”
“Love,” Sawyer scoffed, leaning against the counter. “Now, that’s smoke and mirrors.”
Amelia Rose glanced over her shoulder. “So that’s a no, I’m guessing?”
“Well, you’ve known me since I was eighteen,” he responded.
“And I don’t stalk you,” she said, laughing. “And I’ve never read you.”
“As it should be,” Sawyer said. Whether he believed or not, he didn’t take the chance of someone poking around his thoughts.
“Totally respect that,” Amelia Rose said, waving a wooden spoon around. “But you didn’t answer me.”
Sawyer blew out a breath, feeling his grin fade a little with the memory. “Nah,” he lied. “I never had time for that.”
“Not even when you were young?” she asked.
His eyes landed on her, and the corn bread he’d just swallowed felt like it had hardened halfway down. “Why would you ask that?”
Amelia Rose shrugged. “Because I didn’t know you then.” She tapped the spoon on the rim of the pot and laid it on a plate. “And because you had a girl’s class ring tied to the console of your motorcycle when you first got here.”
A zing ran through his body at the mention of that ring. At the memory of the girl it belonged to, and the last time he’d seen her. She’d been crying.
“I don’t know too many females who give up their jewelry,” Amelia Rose said. “So I figured you either killed someone or had a bad breakup.”
“Well, aren’t you and your long-term memory the observant little pair,” he said, shaking his head free of the images. That was a long time ago, and not a place he was up for revisiting.
“Part of my charm,” she said, winking.
“Well, part of mine is getting back to work,” he said, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “Thanks for the snacks.”
“Like I had a choice?”
“I’m putting the gnomes back out, leaving a few of the bigger pumpkins, and tomorrow I’ll deal with the cornucopia,” he said.
“Sounds good, but get some help with that,” she said. “I don’t want you throwing your spine into a knot.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“You still didn’t answer me,” she added as he pushed open the back door.
He winked in her direction. “No, ma’am.”
* * *
Sidney had to stop and take a breath when she pulled up in front of the B&B. Work her shoulders free of the stress and her neck free of the tension she’d worked up on the way. Not to mention the unwelcome memories flooding her brain. She could live with the worry over this case. That was expected. That, she could talk herself through. Old high school memories of the one who got away—the one she never even really had—that was something else. Something she had no business filling her busy head with right now.
Getting out of her car, she took in the scene before her. The Rose Cottage reminded her of something out of a fairy tale. Or an old and more comfortable time. Quaint and cozy and warm, with Halloween decorations still up and mountains of pumpkins and fall foliage tucked around. A giant spider on one side of the porch. Zombies crawling out of the ground. Okay, maybe that part wasn’t so cozy, but someone definitely got into Halloween.
A man in a worn blue jean jacket, even more worn jeans, and aviator sunglasses was lugging large garden gnomes off of a low-boy trailer, so she could only imagine how much cheesier it was about to get.
“Good Lord,” Sidney muttered as she slung her overnight bag over her shoulder and eyed her car. It was spitting and hissing and doing everything just short of a body shiver. It didn’t look good. Stepping forward, she had to throw both arms out to steady herself. “Shit!”
Thin high heels and cobblestone. Great. Thank God she’d thought to throw in some flats.
She noticed the man working stopped to watch her, and she righted herself immediately, holding her chin up and tucking her hair behind her ear. He probably thought she looked ridiculous here in a pencil skirt and heels, and she wasn’t about to give him more to amuse himself with.
He turned anyway, after his initial pause, striding back to the trailer. Something struck her as familiar, watching him. Something about his strong, purposeful gait.
“Quit ogling the gardener, Sidney,” she whispered to herself. It had evidently been too long since she’d been with a man. Way too long. “Seriously. Find some normal.”
The woman who opened the door before she reached it, however, beaming at Sidney with kind eyes, beads hanging down to her knees, and rings on every finger, probably wasn’t going to fit that bill.
* * *
Sawyer grunted his way from the low-boy to the edge of the flower garden with his third gnome. Big ugly shit. He never could see the appeal. And Amelia Rose’s gnomes weren’t of the puny variety, either. Each one came up to his chest and weighed probably seventy-five pounds. So dragging them on and off the trailer was no small task. The giant cornucopia—now that, he’d need some help with, but these ugly trolls he could handle. Gnomes, trolls, it was all the same.
He just about dropped the fattest one while watching the fancy lady lawyer from Boston get out of her not-so-fancy car. Legs that went on for fucking days, followed by a tight little skirt, and she perched on impossible heels. All of it was concealed somewhat by a long, tailored coat once she stood, but that first glimpse was sweet. Then she hobbled over the cobblestone and nearly busted it, so it was all he could do to look away and give her some dignity.
Still, there was a familiarity about her. Something in the vulnerable way she tucked her hair behind her ear
and held her chin. Something that struck a nerve. A protective one.
“Sleep deprivation is making you soft, old man,” he said under his breath.
The early-morning cleanup from last night’s party and departing guests on top of a couple of restless nights had Sawyer feeling a bit fuzzy.
He’d make it an early night tonight. Hit the bed early and not let his mind wander where it had been the last thirty minutes. Speeding back to a place he didn’t need to go. To the last time he’d felt something. Another lifetime ago. Another version of him.
* * *
“Your room is all ready for you,” Amelia Rose was saying. That’s what she had said to call her. At first, Sidney thought it was her first and last name, but then she corrected her when she called her Amelia, so she assumed she was just mysterious like that. Like Madonna, or Cher. To be honest, Sidney had a hard time concentrating on the woman’s words, she was so distracted by the visuals and the warmth she felt surrounding her like a big embrace. Well, after she got past the shock of the big skeleton guard dog just inside the door.
A beautiful old antique upright piano adorned the front living room, old sheet music perched atop it, just waiting to be played. Black-and-white and sepia-toned photos were everywhere, capturing people there in the house, playing the piano, and some of what Sidney assumed to be the town of Moonbright. It was a warm and welcoming, homey place, marrying the past and the present perfectly. Wing-backed chairs lined the walls, inviting conversation or sitting with a book and a cup of coffee. The adjoining dining room had a beautiful long table with a buffet, the table adorned with three-wick candles placed every few feet.
“How long have you been here?” Sidney asked as they’d circled back to almost where they started, a quaint old skeleton key dangling from her fingers.
Amelia Rose just laughed, the long beads she wore tinkling against each other. Her long gray hair was beautiful, pulled over in front of one shoulder and woven with more beads. Sidney was at once captivated and amused by this woman. She didn’t know whether to take her seriously or just sit back and enjoy the show.
“Oh, long enough,” Amelia Rose said with a wink. “Let’s have a sit in the kitchen, shall we? There’s no one else here, we can kick back and visit a minute.”
“Well, I really need to go start—” Sidney began.
“Just relax, take a breath,” Amelia Rose said. “You can’t start a business day with so much tension.”
“You can tell I have tension?”
“I could build a house with the rocks your skin is stretched over, dear,” Amelia Rose replied. “Come unwind for a second.”
They walked back into the large, old-fashioned kitchen, and Sidney’s mouth watered at the aromas of soup bubbling on the stove and what smelled like cookies baking. Oh, she missed home cooking. And she missed cookies. She didn’t indulge much since Nana died, and only when she made them herself. Store-bought was a joke.
“Dark chocolate chips and walnuts,” Sidney said on a sigh as she sat down at a massive old oak table, doing everything she could not to drool.
“You have a good nose,” Amelia Rose said.
“It’s my favorite,” Sidney said.
Amelia Rose checked the oven just long enough for the aroma to waft out in full force, then closed the door and picked up a large spoon to stir the soup.
“My nana had a bakery when I was growing up,” Sidney said. “I worked with her there, and my favorite thing was to make the cookies.”
“She taught you the old ways,” Amelia Rose said, sitting down with two steaming mugs she’d never seen her make.
“Only from scratch,” Sidney said. “Nothing else compares.”
“Agreed.”
“What’s this?” Sidney asked, already sipping. “Mmm. Oh, wow.”
“Spiced tea,” she said. “My special recipe.”
“It’s amazing,” Sidney said.
“Your accent,” Amelia Rose said. “It’s not Boston. There’s a hint of it, but something else. Something—”
“Southern,” Sidney finished for her, smiling. “South Carolina. But I’ve been in Boston for most of a decade, so I guess it’s all blended up.”
“Ah, I should have recognized that one,” Amelia Rose said. “My groundskeeper is from there, too. So, you left after your nana died?”
Sidney’s brows moved together. “How’d you know that?”
“Because I get the feeling you would’ve stayed in that bakery otherwise,” she answered.
Huh. “Yes, ma’am, probably so.” Sidney said. “But she wanted me to get out of town, do something else. Something smarter. And I just couldn’t stomach the small-town crap anymore, so—” Jesus, Sidney, dial back trashing her world, will you? “So—I left.”
“Law school?” she asked. Sidney gave her another surprised look, and the older woman laughed, eyes twinkling. “No mystery. Your assistant told me when she called.”
“Oh.” Sidney chuckled.
“Although you do have that look about you,” Amelia Rose added.
“Dressed up and desperate?”
Who was she? Laughing and talking like one of those people capable of that? Where was the awkward saying-everything-at-the-wrong-time, too-abrupt woman she lived with every day?
Amelia Rose laid her hand on Sidney’s as she smiled with her, and a feeling like a warm blanket soaked in honey flowed over her. The older woman’s eyes, sharp in spite of the soft lines that fanned from them with her smile, met Sidney’s.
“Can I try something?” she asked, an odd lilt to her speech, as well. Like an accent that didn’t really belong to anything or anyone but her.
“Um,” Sidney said. “Like what?”
Reaching into a basket that Sidney would swear wasn’t there before, she pulled out a tiny bottle of a golden liquid.
“It’s just an essential oil,” Amelia Rose said, popping the tiny cork off and pouring two drops onto a nearby burning candle. “Give me your palm.”
“Oh no,” Sidney said on a laugh, pulling her hand back. “No thanks. I’m not interested in that stuff.”
“There’s no ‘stuff,’ ” Amelia Rose said.
“You’re a fortune-teller,” Sidney said. “I already heard.”
“I’m a truth teller,” Amelia Rose replied. “Fortune or not.” She winked at her. “And if you want that, I can provide, but that’s not all I do.” Her hands had been soft against Sidney’s. Soothing. “I also know a bit about natural healing.”
“I’m not sick,” Sidney said.
“Not that kind of healing,” she said. “It’s just a natural way to put you at ease. Before you have to go do—whatever it is you have to do.”
Sidney met her eyes, which looked almost the same gray as her hair.
“Which you already know?”
Amelia Rose shrugged. “Only if you want me to.”
Sidney fidgeted on the bench. “What will this cost me?”
Amelia Rose shook her head. “You’re my guest. It’s on the house.”
Hesitantly, Sidney pushed a hand forward, watching it as if it belonged to someone else. What was she doing? She didn’t have time for this hooey. She needed to be finding Orchid’s uncle, find the owner, and wrap up everything today. It was just a lease dispute. Surely she could manage something that minor without screwing it up.
Yeah, not even she could buy that. Not in person. Face-to-face.
And as soon as Amelia Rose took her hand in both of hers, she didn’t care.
Chapter 5
Sidney never felt more relaxed, or at ease. Hell, she hadn’t felt this good after a full day’s treatment at the massage and spa place everyone at work always went on about. The one she splurged on for one day, and ended up weirded out by an overly enthusiastic masseuse.
One drop of whatever the hell that was in her palm, and she knew she wanted to buy it by the barrel. Amelia Rose’s hands rubbing her hand and fingers—kind of like a hand massage times infinity—because Amelia Rose’s voice
was like soft butter dripping over the whole thing. Calming her nerves. Giving her confidence.
Butter.
That was the smell.
Between the cookies and the smell of butter, and whatever was in that soup, Sidney was floating on a comfy high of no stress. Damn, who knew all she had to do was sniff food to chill out?
“So you aren’t actually reading my palm,” Sidney said, her eyes fluttering closed as Amelia Rose worked her fingers.
“No,” Amelia Rose said. “I don’t need to.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you let it all go like you just did,” she said, “I can see what I need. Most people don’t relax that fast.”
“You’re saying I’m easy?” Sidney asked.
Amelia Rose chuckled. “I’m saying I wish everyone was.”
“So—theoretically,” Sidney said, tilting her head. “What did you see? Since I’m so easy.”
“Well,” Amelia Rose began. “It’s not like watching a movie, doing it this way.”
Ah, here comes the bullshit disclaimer.
“It’s more like a sense.”
“Uh-huh,” Sidney said. “And what sense is that?”
“First of all, something very familiar,” Amelia Rose said, her brows coming together like she was puzzled. “Like we both know the same thing. That’s new.”
“Hmm,” Sidney said, wondering if she could pay for her to do the other hand. She didn’t buy the hokey “seeing” part, but the relaxation with the touch and the aromatherapy was worth just about anything.
“Your past will become your future.”
Sidney’s eyes shot open. “Pardon?”
“Is that disturbing to you?” Amelia Rose asked.
“Um,” Sidney said, gently pulling her hand away. “Well, I’ve already been there, so driving in circles really isn’t my thing.”
“I can get a lot more detailed with other methods,” Amelia Rose said.
“That’s okay,” Sidney said on a short laugh, taking a long sip of her tea and letting the heat go all the way to her toes. “I think I’m good.”
“All right,” Amelia Rose said, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Well, get settled in, you find Mr. Teasdale, and lunch will be ready at noon.”