She did a slow turn, taking in the utterly charming decor of pale blue trimmed in gold with touches of ivory and rose. The crystal chandelier and gilded mirrors made her feel like she’d slipped off to some expensive little B&B in the South of France. If they had B&Bs in the South of France.
She put her hand on her cheek. “This is going to be really hard to leave.”
Beckett carried her bags in. “Maybe you won’t have to.”
“Maybe I won’t.” That made her smile again. “I guess I’ll see you at breakfast.”
“I’ll be there.” He headed for the door. “And remember, if you need anything I’m just a phone call away.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Anyway, you need to sleep just as much as I do.”
He tipped his head, giving it a little shake. “Not really. But sweet dreams to you.”
Then he was gone before she could ask what that was supposed to mean, closing the door behind him and leaving her to her thoughts.
Which were many, but she really needed to sleep.
But first, a more thorough inspection of the suite was called for. She’d stayed in a suite once before, although stayed was a rather questionable term since she and her mother had been forced to leave in great haste the moment the hotel manager had discovered the credit card her mother used belonged to someone else.
Borrowed, her mother liked to correct Em. But people didn’t run in the middle of the night because something was borrowed.
She left her suitcases and the bad memories in the sitting room and walked into the bedroom. She flipped on the lights. It was equally as charming as the sitting room, and Em sighed at the sheer prettiness of it all.
There were two more doors. Had to be a closet and a bathroom. She opened the first one, and a light came on automatically.
“Wow. Now this is a closet.” She walked in and stood in the middle of it, stretching out her arms. Her fingers didn’t touch the sides. Didn’t even come close. It was at least three times as deep, too.
She ran her hand along one of the empty racks. The thought of having enough clothes to fill a space like that was almost as daunting as it was thrilling. Em loved clothes and shoes and purses and all things girlie and beautiful. She’d never had much of any of them, but whenever she’d gotten a chance to visit a library, she’d pored over the fashion magazines to see what the latest was.
Maybe someday she’d fill a closet like this. Someday when she was settled and stable and her past was a long way behind her.
With a wistful smile, she went back out to see what was behind the second door.
A bathroom. Or a mini spa.
The claw-foot tub sat on gold feet that looked like a lion’s paws. The tub was higher at the ends, and the faucet, a gold swan, was positioned right in the middle. A small table sat nearby with an array of bath oils and candles on it.
Em went closer. There was a silver lighter with the candles. She lit one, staring into the flame for a long moment as she gathered her courage. Then she pinched the flame out.
She hadn’t felt a thing. She did it a second time just to be sure. A new lightness zipped through her. Amazing. And she was definitely taking a bath at least once while she was here.
The rest of the room—the shower, the double sinks set into the long counter, the floor—were all marble, too. Mostly, the colors were ivory and gold, but there were a few touches of blue that tied the space into the rest of the suite.
And the crystal chandelier that hung over the tub looked like a perfect half-size replica of the one in the sitting room.
If this was a guest room, what did her aunt’s room look like? Em couldn’t imagine.
But she was happy that her aunt had done so well for herself. She walked to a set of French doors and pushed the sheers back to look out. The grounds were beautiful and just as nicely lit as the front had been.
Em had a feeling why her mother had never talked much about Aunt Amelia.
Jealousy.
There was no way her mother hadn’t known about Amelia’s financial situation.
Manda Greer could smell money at the bottom of a wishing well two states away. There was also no chance that she hadn’t come here and tried to get herself a piece of Amelia’s pie.
The shiver of panic returned.
What if Aunt Amelia thought that was why Em had shown up, too?
Chapter Six
Deacon wasn’t in the mood to play tour guide to an old woman who would probably want to stop every fifteen minutes for tea and cake and would talk incessantly about her grandchildren and hip problems and which medication she was due to take next.
But he did want a ticket out of Shadowvale, so for that reward, he got up, showered, dressed, and prepared himself for a day of small talk and fake smiles.
Which he would do while somehow also convincing Amelia’s elderly niece that Shadowvale was no place for her.
He stared out at the town that was just waking up, regretting his decision but knowing there wasn’t much point in trying to say no to Amelia.
Why had he agreed to go to breakfast, too? He shouldn’t have. He probably could have gotten out of that, at least.
Then he’d be sitting with his younger brother, Bishop, on the back deck with his feet kicked up, drinking a deep mug of black coffee.
Tinkerbelle would be running around the backyard, barking at squirrels and birds. Gracie would be in the kitchen, fixing more breakfast than three people could eat, just in case their other brother, Shepherd, stopped by. And she’d be fussing at them good-naturedly about getting chores done.
Bishop would make a crack about how he really needed to get married, or just move out like Shep had.
Then Gracie would remind them both that Shep still came back to eat more often than not and that if Deac and Bishop wanted dinner, they’d get the trash out and the yard mowed.
They’d groan, and she’d tell them dinner was meat loaf or pork chops or turkey with all the fixings or one of her other equally delicious dishes, and they’d promise to get things done right after breakfast.
He laughed to himself as he drove. Life, despite all the many ups and downs, despite all the issues their family had, was good.
But it would be better if he could leave this town. Find a place for himself beyond the boundaries of Shadowvale. Beyond the grip of the curse that held him here.
Because leaving Shadowvale would mean leaving his curse behind. Wouldn’t it? That’s what Amelia had implied.
It had to. He hoped. He just wanted a chance to live like a normal person. Sure, he’d come back and visit. He’d still have family here, after all.
But to live without the burden of his curse…even beyond that, to have a chance for a normal life. A wife. Kids even. So long as he could be sure he wouldn’t pass some aspect of the Evermore curse on to them.
He couldn’t be sure, though. At least not while living here. That’s why he had to get out.
He pulled into Amelia’s long drive, dreading the day that lay ahead of him, but knowing he would do it with a smile on his face for the reward it would bring. He’d get a good breakfast out of it, too. Amelia’s chef could cook. Maybe not country cooking like Gracie did, but the woman had skills.
He turned the truck off, got out, and after a quick glance around for Thoreau, went up to the door.
Beckett answered before Deac had a chance to ring the bell. “Good morning, Mr. Evermore.”
“Morning, Beckett.” The man’s sly smile told Deacon all he needed to know. This was going to be a long day.
“Breakfast is being served in the dining room.”
With a sigh, Deacon nodded. “Great. I can see my way—”
“Oh, no. Amelia’s asked that I bring you in.”
Deacon doubted that. More like Beckett wanted to see Deacon’s face when he met Amelia’s niece and saw who he was going to be babysitting. “Lead the way.”
Beckett closed the door and gestured toward the rotunda. Both men started walking.
“Croissants with jam and butter, poached eggs, sweet potato and turkey hash, bacon, sausage, grits, fresh fruit, a selection of cheeses, and of course coffee and juice.”
Deacon’s traitorous stomach rumbled before he could say a word. “That’ll do.”
Beckett laughed. “It’ll start your day off right.”
“Something had better.”
Beckett shot him a look. “You’re dreading this, aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you be? Or do you think spending the day convincing Amelia’s niece this is not the place for her to retire sounds like fun?”
Beckett’s brows pulled together. “Retire?”
“Isn’t that why she’s here? To spend her golden years near family?”
Beckett snorted. “Your head has taken you in a very different direction than reality.” Then he chuckled to himself as he reached for the dining room doors. “This is going to be interesting.”
He opened them with a great flourish. “Mr. Deacon Evermore has arrived. I’ll let Chef know we’re ready to eat.”
“Thank you, Beckett.” Amelia made eye contact with Deacon. “And thank you for coming. This is my niece, Emeranth Greer.”
Her niece turned from the coffee station that was set up on the table against the far wall. “Good morning, Mr. Evermore.”
Deacon looked at Emeranth and just managed to keep his jaw from unhinging and going south. “Call me, uh, Deacon.”
She smiled and lifted her coffee to take a sip. “Call me Em.”
She wasn’t remotely elderly. In fact, she was closer to his age. And beautiful. Big eyes, dark hair, skin that seemed to glow. Or maybe that was her witchy aura.
He couldn’t stop staring. Or keep his insides from tightening up in a way they hadn’t since he’d been in high school and Carmela Westin had returned from summer break with a brand-new figure and no more braces.
Em’s figure surpassed Carmela Westin’s. And he wouldn’t have cared if she’d had braces or not. Amelia’s niece was a stunner.
Amelia cleared her throat. “Would you like to join us at the table?”
He nodded and finally got his eyes off Em long enough to realize there was also a maid in the room with them. Helen, he thought her name was. “Sure.”
He was happy to sit, happy to focus on something other than the gorgeous woman he was going to be spending the next several hours with. Anything to get his pulse back to normal and his head on straight again. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it. Eye on the prize and all that.
This was still going to be a much longer day than he’d imagined, but for very different reasons.
* * *
Em wasn’t entirely sure what her aunt was up to. If she was trying to dissuade Em from staying in Shadowvale, Deacon Evermore wasn’t helping her case.
The man was hot. And even better, he didn’t seem to know it. Plus, he had that rugged, outdoorsy thing going on that seemed genuine. The flannel shirt and faded jeans he was wearing looked worn in from work, not because they had been designed that way.
He probably had a whole closet of those shirts. Hmm. No, he probably had enough to get him through the week. Same thing with the jeans. At least that’s how he struck her. Practical. No-nonsense.
And a good kisser.
She almost choked on her coffee at that thought. Where the heck had that come from?
Amelia glanced at her. “Are you all right?”
Em nodded and took her seat next to Aunt Amelia and across from Deacon. “Just went down the wrong way.”
She sipped her juice, but that did nothing to lower her temperature, which had shot up the moment Deacon had walked into the room. Helen, the live-in housekeeper who also helped with breakfast apparently, poured him a cup of coffee.
Beckett hovered nearby with a rather amused look on his face. He glanced down at his phone, then over at Helen. “Breakfast is up.”
“I’ll be right back.” She returned the coffeepot to the burner and left for the kitchen.
Silence took over. Deep, prickly, uncomfortable silence.
Why Em felt the sudden need to fill that void, she had no idea, but she couldn’t keep herself from speaking. “So, Deacon, where are we going today? Aunt Amelia said you’d be showing me around.”
As if he didn’t know that already. Thanks, Princess Obvious. And if her stomach could stop being all fluttery, that would be great. She was not interested in getting involved with anyone at this point. Not when she was dead broke. And at least not until she knew where she was going to be in three days’ time. Her future had to come first.
His hand was on his coffee cup, but he didn’t pick it up. “Downtown, I guess. Maybe the cemetery. Or the swamp.”
The cemetery and the swamp? For real? She stared at him, wondering if Deacon was one of those superhot but also kind of dumb guys who basically got through life on their looks. Please, don’t let it be that. She really didn’t want to babysit him all day when she could explore just as easily on her own. “Well, downtown sounds nice. I drove through a little of that on my way in last night.”
He nodded. “There’s a lot more than what you saw.”
“I can’t wait.”
The housekeeper returned, pushing a serving cart with three covered plates. She placed the smallest one in front of Aunt Amelia, then the two larger ones in front of Em and Deacon, taking the covers off as she did. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you,” Em said. She was starving. Her cookies and chips hadn’t gone very far last night. Her plate was full of all kinds of yummy goodness. She picked up her fork and was about to dig in when she saw her aunt wasn’t eating the same thing. “Are you only having oatmeal?”
Aunt Amelia nodded. “I eat it every day.”
“Doesn’t that get boring?”
Aunt Amelia’s spoon hung in the air, and she hesitated. “Yes, it does.”
“Then why not eat something else?”
Deacon held a strip of bacon by the end. “Nothing wrong with routine.”
“No, there’s not,” Em admitted. But his answer confirmed what she’d thought earlier. He was a practical guy. Probably not into frills and complications.
He wouldn’t like her, then. Em was nothing but complications. Sure, she was trying to put all that behind her, but she couldn’t magically erase her past or her connection to her criminal mother, no matter how much she wanted to.
Which made her realize that no matter how much she wanted to tell the truth as she started this new chapter in her life, her past was the one thing that was always going to trip her up. Always going to make people judge her.
Maybe a little lying wasn’t such a bad thing…
Chapter Seven
Deacon had intended to take Em to Main Street first and show her the area everyone called downtown, then maybe Fiddler Street, the artsier part of town, but as he navigated Amelia’s driveway, he realized it was a little too early for either of those places. Nothing would be open yet, except for a few offices. Even the shops that stayed open late had to close for a couple hours.
So when he hit the end of the driveway, he went left instead of right on Hollows Drive. “Change of plans.”
“Oh?”
He glanced over and nodded. Outside of Gracie, he hadn’t had a woman in his truck in a long while. Em made the old Ford look good. Or maybe it was just that she looked good. He’d seen Gracie in nearly the same outfit of black leggings, ankle boots, and big denim shirt, but he’d never realized how sexy it could be on someone who wasn’t his sister.
The thought made him straighten up and refocus on the road. “We’ll go by the cemetery first.”
“Is that a big tourist attraction? I mean, is there someone famous buried there or something?”
“Shadowvale doesn’t get tourists.”
She laughed. “Well, I’m here.”
He looked at her. “Is that what you are? A tourist?” Because tourist m
eant temporary. And if that’s what she was thinking, he wasn’t going to have to work as hard.
She held his gaze for a long moment. “No. At least I hope not to be. I want to live here. My aunt doesn’t seem to think it’s a good idea, but—”
“It’s not. This town…” He shook his head, not quite able to find the right words in the moment.
Her brows furrowed. “Why isn’t it? Everyone keeps telling me that about Shadowvale, but no one’s told me why.”
He gave it another second of thought, but if Amelia wanted him to persuade Em not to stay here, he had to be able to tell her the truth. The whole truth. “The town is cursed. So are the people in it.”
She didn’t say anything for a few long moments, so he glanced at her. She was staring at him like he was insane. “Cursed?” Her tone rang with disbelief.
“Mm-hmm. Jinxed, troubled, plagued. However you want to say it, there’s a darkness that hangs over this place. In all sorts of ways.”
“So you’re cursed, then?”
“Yep.” No point in pretending otherwise.
She crossed her arms and leaned sideways in the seat as she looked at him. “With what?”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “You don’t ask people that. Also, in general, it’s a good idea not to make physical contact with anyone you meet here. Don’t fist-bump or shake hands or any of that. We don’t do it. Too many things transfer that way.”
Her eyes rounded, and a little alarm crept in.
He was sorry about that, but it was the truth. And what Amelia wanted him to do. Turn her niece off this place. Well, the truth seemed the best way to do that. And being honest meant there were no lies for him to get caught up in.
Seconds ticked by without another word from either of them. He turned onto Dusk Drive. They’d be at the cemetery in a few more minutes.
She made a small noise. “I’m cursed, too.”
That caught him off guard. “You are?”
She shrugged, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was fixed on the road ahead. “Sure. Who isn’t?”
The Trouble With Witches Page 5