by Olivia Arran
“Yes, yes, I understand. Of course…” the woman replied, eagerly making a beeline toward the rack I had indicated.
Of course, it didn’t matter if they contained powerful spells or recipes for cream cakes. If you weren’t born a witch then nothing would work anyway. Mentally, I patted myself on the back. Another satisfied customer meant I could stay afloat—for a little longer anyway.
Witchcraft was a difficult product to market in a small town like Craggstone. It didn’t help that you could only sell the tools of the craft, not the craft itself. I had been brought up to believe that the Mother of All had blessed me with a gift, and that it was my duty to use it to help people. It was definitely a pro bono gig. I just had to find a way to support myself while carrying out her work. Ergo—my store. Full of a wonderful mix of tourist nonsense and bona fide craft supplies. Occasionally, another witch came shopping, but I was so far away from the big cities that I was more likely to be mauled by a wild animal than bump into another witch.
The phone rang in the back—my personal line. Swiftly locking the cash register I glanced around the room, checking that my sign—Those who steal will be cursed—was in place. At a dash, I ran to grab the phone before the caller hung up.
“Hello?” I gasped, out of breath.
“Merrie! How are you? How’s your darling little store doing?” my sister’s voice piped out of the phone. Cassie. Big Sis. Miss Perfect.
Grinding my teeth, I replied, “Hi, Cassie. I’m fine, the store’s doing great. In fact, I have a ton of customers here at the moment. Can I call you back?”
“Sure, sure,” she replied, sounding distracted. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m coming over for a visit! But call me later and I’ll…”
“Visit? When?”
“Don’t sound so shocked, Merrie!” Her tinkle of laughter echoed down the line and my teeth started to hurt. Wiggling my jaw back and forth, I wound the old fashioned cord around my finger, fighting to push back the old anxiety that threatened to rear its head.
“I’ve got time. When are you coming? And why?” She hadn’t visited before. None of my family had. And I’d been open over two years now. Since I’d been old enough to escape home and start out on my own.
“I’ll be there tomorrow. It’ll take me that long to pack and drive down. Why, for the Mother, did you move all the way down there to that Podunk town?”
I ignored the dig and focused on the ‘tomorrow’. I figured I’d find out the ‘why’ soon enough. Too soon.
“Okay, tomorrow. What time shall I expect you?” More like, how long have I got to bury my head in the sand?
“Oh, early. 9-ish? That okay with you?” she carried on, either oblivious or deliberately ignoring my lack of enthusiasm.
No. “Yes,” I gritted out, my heart sinking as I mentally started to list the things I now had to get done by tomorrow morning.
“Great! See you tomorrow!” she sang cheerfully before hanging up, leaving me listening to the dial tone.
Replacing the receiver, I leaned my forehead against the cool, painted wall. My sister was coming to visit. Tomorrow. Shit.
“Oooooo, Miss Merrie…” a customer called from the store.
Right. Customers. Pushing my sister to the back of my mind, I straightened my back and squared my shoulders. Fixing a smile on my face, I walked back out to the front. Get them served, get them out. I visualized my empty fridge upstairs in my apartment. I had some food shopping to do before Craggstone closed for the day.
Heaving a sigh of relief, I waved goodbye to my last customers, watching from the doorway as they loaded back up onto the tour bus. Flipping the sign in the window to ‘Closed’, I grabbed my bag from behind the counter and locking the door behind me, hustled down the street toward the main part of town.
Bread, milk, something for dinner, dessert…Dessert. The bakery.
Swerving, I changed direction, heading across to the bakery, the only one in town. Pie. Everyone liked pie, and I was pretty sure Cassie did, too.
Pushing the door open, I entered the bakery and was immediately immersed in the comforting smell of warm freshly baked bread, spiced sweet with cinnamon, and honey cut with the tartness of lemon. Taking a deep breath, I dragged the enticing smells deep into my lungs, my mouth watering in anticipation and hunger. I’d forgotten to have lunch, so maybe I could pick up a little treat for now? Having convinced myself, I moved up to the counter to eye the frosted and baked delights.
I joined the line behind a large, well built man, and watched with growing despair as he proceeded to order nearly everything left in the glass cabinet. Well, almost everything. He left behind one jelly donut and a rather sad looking cream puff.
“What? The cream puff not good enough for you?” I muttered under my breath, frustrated that my sugar fix was about to be thwarted. Today couldn’t get any worse.
“Sorry, what was that, darling?” the man drawled in a deep, husky voice. “Something about a cream puff?” he added, turning around.
He was a veritable mountain of a man, big and burly, with thick ropes of muscles bunching under his pale-blue cotton shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing corded forearms, tanned and liberally dusted with golden hair. Looking up—then up some more—I found myself captured by vivid blue eyes, the color of the Bahamian sea. Eyes that were widening in what looked like shock. A mop of golden hair topped his head, sun streaked with icy white.
He must work out a lot. I shook my head, trying to clear my daze. He must work outside a lot, I meant. I kicked myself mentally. Damn, he was hot. I licked my lips—just in case I was drooling.
“You’ve bought out the bakery…” I stuttered, my mind wrapped in a hormone-induced fog.
“You! What do you want?” he demanded, his voice suddenly clipped and bitter.
Huh? He must really like his baked goods.
“I was eyeing one of those maple pecans, but the bear claws looked good, too…” I said, trailing off as his face started to turn a funny shade of purple.
“Bear claw?” He seemed to growl the words as he towered over me, leaning closer until we were nose to nose. “I don’t know how you got here, or how you are even still around. But do you think you are being funny?” The last came out a menacing hiss.
Even turned a funny purple shade and hissing at me, he was still goddamn hot. Sexy as hell. The kind of rough and ready that made a witch want to lick and bite. To rub and—
“Craig?” The young guy behind the counter, all of sixteen, croaked nervously.
“Craig?” I repeated, loving the way the word rolled off my tongue.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know, Meridith.”
“How do you know my name?” My full name, too. It was my turn to be shocked. We hadn’t met before—I would have remembered him for sure.
“After everything you did to me, you play games now?” He snorted, a derisive sound before taking a deep breath, probably to growl at me again. His eyes widened a fraction, his skin paling under his tan.
An improvement on purple, I decided, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Mentally unstable? What a waste of a good-looking man.
Out of nowhere, he twisted, pinning me against the counter, caging me with his arms. Effectively trapping me, he brushed my thick mane of hair away from my neck and gripped it in his hand, tilting my head to the side as he exposed my neck. With a growl, he leaned forward, seeming to nuzzle at my throat, his breath hot against my sensitive skin, and the stubble on his chin scratching, tickling.
Wow. I was being mauled in the bakery. By a hot—yet obviously unstable—guy. And I was doing nothing to stop him. The thought flitted through my mind, evaporating as my breathing dissolved to panting as he leaned against me, firmly fitting his body to mine. Sweet Mother! The length of him, thick and hard, dug into my stomach as he pressed me harder against the cool glass counter. A whimper escaped my throat, one of needy want.
Answering my unvoiced plea, he ground himself against me, send
ing shivers of pleasure skittering down my spine and sparking a throbbing deep in my core. His tongue, moist and hot, licked the side of my throat as he nibbled and bit down gently.
My hands gripped his shirt, traveling down his broad back, before coming to rest on a deliciously firm, denim-clad behind. Moaning into his ear, thoughts of where we were, who we were—scattered, gone.
Kissing his way to my mouth he stopped, pinning me with his gaze.
“You’re her…but you’re not…” he whispered, his voice hoarse with passion, and then angling his head, he brought his lips firmly down on mine. I gasped as he nipped my bottom lip, a sharp sting that he immediately laved with his tongue, before angling the kiss even deeper, his tongue seeking my own, his lips gliding against mine. Picking me up, he cupped my behind, rocking me back against the counter, his thick shaft thrusting against my core, the friction causing my insides to clench and throb.
“Ahem…”
We both froze. As one, our eyes slid over to the counter boy, who stood, mouth gaping, his face stained the color of overripe tomatoes.
“I don’t think…that…is allowed in here. I mean…I’m sure it isn’t…” He eyed Craig, hero-worship clear on his face. “I’m sorry, Craig—I mean, Mr. Everson.”
“Right. Well. Yeah, I think you’re probably right, kid,” Craig murmured, slowly letting me slide back to the ground. “Don’t know what I was thinking…”
I eyed Craig, taking in the bashful look he threw the counter boy—complete with wry grin—and gave myself a shake. What had come over me? I appreciated a good-looking guy, sure. But, I didn’t usually end up making out in public with them. Getting all ‘grind and shake’ on the pastry cabinets. Not me. So why him?
I tore my eyes away. Did it really matter? I had bigger fish to fry, like my sister.
“So…can I have those bear claws?”
The Everson Brothers series is now complete!
My Curse to Bear
Continue with Craig & Merrie’s story here
A witch without power...
Merrie Havencroft hasn't got time for men. She's too busy trying to run her shop and prove to herself, and her family, that she is not a failure as a witch.
A bear without a mate...
Bear shifter Craig Everson knows all about feeling inadequate. Years ago, he broke a witch's heart and got himself cursed. He can never be happy in a relationship again ... not until he finds his true mate.
When Craig bumps into curvy Merrie, his passion ignites. His bear is certain she's their mate. Theirs to claim, to bring to the heights of pleasure, to cherish and protect. Craig knows he wants her with every inch of his being, but can he ever trust another witch?
A dark secret that could end it all...
Merrie's heart says Craig is the one ... but when she uncovers a shocking secret from her past, will it destroy their chance at happiness?
**This is a bear shifter romance with no cliffhanger and a Happy Ever After.**
From the Author
Thank you for purchasing Heartsridge Shifters: Cade. It's your support that allows me to continue doing something that I love every day. If you liked the story, please consider leaving a review so more people can find and enjoy my books.
Love,
Olivia
About Olivia Arran
Olivia Arran is a USA Today bestselling author. She has been an avid reader since childhood, forgoing sleep to devour page after page by torchlight. As an adult she still reads voraciously, but also enjoys penning her own tales of romance. Steamy paranormal romance with strong alpha heroes and feisty heroines - Olivia writes what she likes to read and hopes you like it too!
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