Dear Reader,

Nocturne Falls has become a magical place for so many people, myself included. Over and over I’ve heard from you that it’s a town you’d love to visit and even live in! I can tell you that writing the books is just as much fun for me.

With your enthusiasm for the series in mind – and your many requests for more books – the Nocturne Falls Universe was born. It’s a project near and dear to my heart, and one I am very excited about.

I hope these new, guest-authored books will entertain and delight you. And best of all, I hope they allow you to discover some great new authors! (And if you like this book, be sure to check out the rest of the Nocturne Falls Universe offerings.)

For more information about the Nocturne Falls Universe, visit http://kristenpainter.com/sugar-skull-books/

In the meantime, happy reading!

Kristen Painter

Welcome to Nocturne Falls, the town where Halloween is celebrated 365 days a year. The tourists all think it’s a show: the vampires, the werewolves, the witches, the occasional gargoyles flying through the sky. But the supernaturals populating the town know better.

Living in Nocturne Falls means being yourself. Fangs, fur, and all.

New York code enforcement officer Griffin Dunlap inherits two neighboring properties in Nocturne Falls, and just in time since the down payment is due soon on his own dream house in Brooklyn. So he heads south in hopes of a quick sale.

Witch and cat rescuer Stevie Mercer can’t bear the thought of losing her cozy cottage. After all the improvements she’s made to the place, it’s the perfect Zen atmosphere for the meditation classes she teaches there. Plus, all the neighborhood stray cats might starve without her.

Despite their vast differences, the more Griffin gets to know the beguiling temptress next door, the more he wants her. But business is business, and when an investor makes him a good offer, he’s ready to cash out. Suddenly, strange occurrences threaten to frighten off the superstitious investor. Griffin wonders if Stevie could be behind what are surely tricks and illusions. As the pranks escalate into the danger zone, Stevie is forced to put her trust in the man who could either save or destroy her world.

THE YIN TO HIS YANG

A Nocturne Falls Universe Story

Copyright © 2018 by Wynter Daniels

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction and was made possible by a special agreement with Sugar Skull Books, but hasn’t been reviewed or edited by Kristen Painter. All characters, events, scenes, plots and associated elements appearing in the original Nocturne Falls series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kristen Painter, Sugar Skull Books and their affiliates or licensors.

Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or Sugar Skull Books.

Published in the United States of America.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

About Wynter Daniels

Also by Wynter Daniels

Dedication

Dedicated to the two women who work tirelessly on my behalf. Tammy Payne and Betty Olsen -- I dearly love you both!

Chapter One

“You can’t save them all, child.”

Stevie Mercer’s heart sank as the white feral kitten she’d been attempting to entice with cat treats disappeared into the woods behind her house. “That’ll never stop me from trying.” She strode past the screened porch that served as a makeshift cat sanctuary and climbed the three steps to her back deck. Planting a kiss on the top of her grandma’s head, she breathed in the familiar scent of Avon’s Sweet Honesty perfume. “Want some lunch?”

“Not just yet.” A cool breeze pushed a lock of her white hair aside as she shifted in the old wooden rocking chair that Stevie had found at a yard sale a few days before her grandmother’s visit. “Unless you’ve got something that isn’t vegan. I could go for a nice juicy hamburger.”

“I’m vegetarian, not vegan. If you want, I’ll take you to one of the restaurants downtown. I’ve heard that Howlers has the best burgers in Nocturne Falls.” Their vegetarian burgers were also delicious, although her grandma might not feel comfortable at a bar, or a saloon, as Stevie’s grandpa used to call such places. But Stevie refused to bring meat into her home, let alone cook the stuff.

“I don’t know which one of your hippie friends would know anything about hamburgers. All those girls who come here for your meditation and yoga classes probably eat that same weird imitation food that you do.” Her grandmother pinched Stevie’s waist. “You need some real food to put some meat on your skinny bones, the stuff you were raised on, like Brunswick stew or shrimp and grits.”

Stevie had to laugh as she thought about the friends her grandma spoke of, who were all either psychics or witches. “They’re not hippies. And it is real food, Grandma. I promise. You liked the vegetarian eggrolls I made for dinner last night, didn’t you?”

“That’s what I told you, yes. Since I’m eating so healthy while I’m staying with you, you should bake me some of your maple-walnut blondies as a treat. Or that lavender tea bread.”

“One bite of either and you’ll graduate from pre-diabetic to diabetic.”

Her grandma scoffed. “I never should have told you what my overly cautious doctor said. According to her, the sky is perpetually falling. Besides, pre means I’m not in that category. My Stevie, always trying to save me from myself. How much do you want to bet that on my next doctor’s visit, my fasting blood sugar will be under a hundred?”

It would be, if the good health spells Stevie had been doing for her worked. “I don’t like to bet, not like you.”

“Your grandfather was always up for a wager.” She stopped rocking and crinkled her brow. Gripping the arms of the chair, she sniffed. “You smell that?”

Stevie inhaled deeply. “Smoke?”

“Mm-hmm. Coming in from the south. It’s bringing a change, for you.” Thunder rumbled in the distance. She extended her weathered palm a second before the first raindrops landed on it. “And water. Interesting.”

A lifelong witch, her grandma had taught Stevie everything she knew about connecting with the elements. Fire brought purification and change, while water ushered in emotion—particularly love. Stevie wanted nothing to do with that sort of energy. “Why can’t it simply be a winter rain?”

Spreading the droplets over her skin, she shook her head. “I know the difference. You should, too.”

Stevie brushed off her grandma’s prediction, but just in case, she went to her outside altar and reached into the wooden box for a small bundle of white sage. As she lit it, she closed her eyes and envisioned a protective shield forming around her house and yard. Then she walked clockwise around the deck. “I cleanse this space of all impurities and negative energies that do not support and protect all those within. So mote it be.”

“So mote it be,” her grandma echoed. “I didn’t say it was a bad change. No need to constantly burn sage around your space. Don’t you want to find love?”

That was the last subject she cared to discuss with her grandmother. “I have all the love I need. Between you and my cats, I’m good.”

“Honey, you’ve got to let go of all that bad stuff. It was a long time ago. Grandpa and I had a wonderful marriage. Cedrick was the love of my life.” Her eyes misted. “No reason you can’t find something just as beautiful.”

Stevie missed her grandpa, and she was sure her grandma missed him a hundred times more. But a relationship like theirs was one in a million. Besides, she was perfectly content in her comfy cottage. Who could ask for more?

Her grandma pushed herself to her feet, grabbed her cane, and started toward the back door, shaking her head. “Your mother was a bad apple, and as much as it pains me to admit, so is your dad. And Simon, well, we all did the best we could with your brother. Maybe someday…”

Why did she have to bring up those bad memories? Every day Stevie meditated and did yoga once or even twice. She prided herself on her ability to stay grounded and centered, but her grandmother had a way of poking through the calm and stirring up all sorts of emotions, all the memories of her early life, and the carnage that drug addicts like her mother left in their wake. Her throat closed. She needed to be with her cats, the reminders that she was capable of saving something. “I’ve got chores to do.” She snuffed out the sage.

“Yes, you always do.” Her grandmother squeezed Stevie’s arm. “It’s wonderful that you’re so committed to stray cats. You make their lives so much better. Just don’t forget that you’ve got needs, too. Everyone has their wounds, child. You had a rough start in life. And I know that Thomas hurt you real bad. But you can’t close yourself off to love.”

Stevie wrapped her arms around her body. “I’m not doing that. And I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Her relationship with Tommy had ended badly—so badly that she’d left Charleston to get away from him. But she wasn’t closed off. What did her grandma know? She came to visit a few times a year for a couple of weeks, yet she professed to be an expert on Stevie’s love life.

“Now you’re getting all defensive.” Grandma banged her cane on the wooden floor. “From now on I’ll just keep my observations to myself. It isn’t as if I’m not used to being silent. Since your grandpa passed on, I spend almost all of my time alone.”

Stevie’s gut twisted. Now she’d offended the one person in the world who’d always loved her, and who’d been there for her every time. She swallowed hard. “Sorry, Grandma. I don’t want you to have to edit what you say here.” Taking a wrinkled, arthritic hand in hers, Stevie smiled at her. “I have a full life.” That was true. Between her classes, her friends, and her cats, she stayed busy all the time.

Besides, it wasn’t as if single, fantastic guys were beating down her door. She’d gone on a few dates since she’d left Charleston, maybe four or five. Which, now that she thought about the fact that she’d lived in Nocturne Falls for three years, was a little pathetic. But in all honesty, she had little interest in a romantic relationship. The only serious one she’d ever had hadn’t exactly been fulfilling. More like terrifying.

“Full life, hmm? Maybe full of the little white lies you tell yourself.”

Stevie resisted the urge to dispute the claim. What was the point? She’d lived with her grandparents from the time she was thirteen until she’d turned twenty. In all those years, she hadn’t won a single argument with her grandma.

Dharma rubbed against her shins as if the grey cat was trying to comfort her.

“I just pray to the goddess that you’ll open your heart before it’s too late.” Her grandmother opened the glass sliding door and stepped through. “I’ll be ready to go out to eat in half an hour.”

Stevie closed her eyes as she drew a calming breath. “Om mani padme hum,” she quietly chanted. Then she headed to the screen room to check on the cats, knowing that despite what she’d said, her grandmother wouldn’t be ready to leave for at least an hour.

Half a dozen felines gathered around her as she entered. Mala, a striped tabby, meowed up at her. “I already fed you,” she told him. Wending her way around the animals, she made her way past the small shrine to the Egyptian goddess, Bast to the feeding area then used a plastic jug to top off the water bowls. As she set the bottle down, a chill skittered up her spine.

She glanced toward the vacant house next door. It had been two months since Miss Percival had crossed to the other side, but Stevie could have sworn she’d just seen someone pass by a window inside. As far as she knew, the kindly old woman hadn’t had any relatives, at least none who’d ever visited her. Stevie’s chest tightened. She should have spent more time with her. Miss. Percival had been a great landlord and a knowledgeable witch.

A few weeks ago, Stevie had received a letter from an estate lawyer that merely instructed her to pay the rent to him for the time being, something about waiting for the transfer of title. She wasn’t worried. Things usually worked themselves out. Miss Percival had given her a two-year lease six months before she’d died, so no one would be kicking her out of the cottage, not for the next year and a half at least. Hopefully longer than that. She loved the place, and the mere thought of moving—and leaving the local homeless cats to fend for themselves—was devastating to her.

Shuddering at the notion, she picked up Savasana, cuddled her in her arms, and nuzzled the silky, white fur. She’d found the kitten on the brink of death only a month ago, and now she was thriving, thanks to her friend Aiden’s healing abilities. The feline used her paws to grab one of Stevie’s braids. Stevie smiled as she set her on the ground. Her cozy home and her cats were all she had, all she wanted.

Nothing was going to change anytime soon. Her grandmother had been wrong about that. Still, a heaviness settled in the pit of her stomach. Or maybe it was only hunger. She brushed off the feeling and headed inside the house. She’d protected her home in every way she knew—by smudging it regularly with white sage, with wards around the doors and windows, and chunks of amethyst and black tourmaline placed in every room.

Something niggled at her insides as if she wasn’t as safe there as she’d like. Since her grandma was staying with her, she was a little out of her routine, and she hadn’t done her usual evening gratitude meditation the night before, or the day before that.

Her grandmother’s prediction of impending change was probably meant for someone else. Or maybe it was about her grandma. After all, tomorrow her grandmother was leaving for a week to go stay with her cousin who lived in a retirement community an hour and a half from Nocturne Falls. Nothing was going to change for Stevie.

Just in case, though, she took all the steps to protect herself and her space, everything was going to be all right. She refused to even consider the possibility that anything would disrupt her cozy little world.

Griffin Dunlap squinted against the late afternoon sun as he drove up the hill, searching for house numbers on Crossbones Drive. Too late he saw an overturned trashcan. Despite swerving his Volvo, he sideswiped it. He muttered a curse as he pulled to the curb. If he’d been back home, he’d have cited whoever lived there, since everyone else on the street had apparently already taken their cans in. But his authority as a code enforcement officer didn’t extend beyond New York City’s five Burroughs.

Rechecking the papers on the passenger seat for the addresses he was looking for—304 and 306—he ground his teeth. Yup, the only house he’d passed in the entire neighborhood that still had trashcans out on the curb, was apparently the rental he now owned. Between the overgrowth in the front yard, and all the decorations hanging over the porch, the whole entryway was almost completely obscured, including the house number. Another violation. But the Google Earth photo clearly depicted the light brown shingle roofs of the two homes his great aunt had willed to him. Wonderful. Who wanted to deal with a rule-breaking tenant? He certainly didn’t, but apparently, he’d have to.

He parked in the driveway of number 306, the one in which Dorothea had resided, which was clearly and properly identified. Tension pulled taut between his shoulder blades.

Why would Aunt Dorothea have allowed her tenant to get away with letting the place fall into disrepair? Unless she’d been too old and frail to even realize. Maybe the renter had taken advantage of Dorothea’s sweet nature. Not that he could be sure of his aunt’s disposition since he’d only met her once when he was four or five years old. All he really knew about her was that she’d been what his father had referred to as an eccentric spinster and that she was over ninety when she’d died two months ago. For some reason, she’d seen fit to leave him—the great-nephew she hadn’t seen in close to thirty years—the two side-by-side cottages. Could be that she had no one else to whom she could bequeath anything. Which was pretty sad.

Would he find himself so alone in his twilight years? His thoughts drifted back to Marci. They’d vowed to spend their lives together, in sickness and in health. How could he have known when he’d married her that she’d have turned out to be the kind of person who had no qualms about cheating the customers at her bank? Now she was a part of his past, and the biggest reason he couldn’t trust any woman. Well, his own mother was another reason, but that had been a long time ago. She was long gone from his life and good riddance.

He forced his mind back to the present and adjusted his glasses as he ventured another glance at the rental. He’d have to have a stern talk with the tenant, let him know that there was a new sheriff in town. Well, not exactly, but if the man wouldn’t agree to clean up his place, he’d give him an ultimatum.

Griffin was used to dealing with that type in his professional life—the sort who didn’t give a hoot about rules, and those who made up their own. They always had some excuse—a licensed contractor was too expensive, or they were planning to bring the item up to code soon.

Excuses didn’t fly with him. He wasn’t always thrilled with the consequences of laws and rules, but nevertheless, he obeyed them, even in his private life. Certainly, he didn’t care for the fact that Marci had gotten most of their savings in the divorce settlement, but since she’d been fired from the bank, and still hadn’t found another job right away, that was the judge’s ruling.

He strode around the side of his aunt’s house. The grass in the backyard was way past needing cut, and the exterior paint was peeling in several spots. An easy fix. Good thing. The sooner he could get the properties on the market and sold, the sooner he could make the downpayment on the Brooklyn townhouse. He’d signed the contract just days ago—right after he’d ascertained the approximate value of the houses his aunt had willed to him—but if he couldn’t come up with the money in the next sixty days, the deal would crash and burn.

He had every confidence, though. Even if he got under market value offers on the two Nocturne Falls houses, it would be more than enough for the downpayment on the New York house.

Movement in the neighboring yard caught his eye. A willowy woman with long black and teal braids and dark skin slipped through a doorway into the rental home before he could get a good look at her. The estate lawyer had told him that the tenant’s name was Steve. Could the woman be Steve’s wife or girlfriend?

“There you are.”

A vaguely female voice drew his attention to the driveway. He recognized the attractive redhead in the pink business suit from her photo on her website.

She waved at him. “Pandora Williams,” she said. “How was your trip from New York?”

Long and lonely. “Fine. It’s nice to meet you in person, Pandora.” He shook hands with her.

“Same here,” she said. “Have you had a chance to look around the cottages?”

“Only the exteriors.” He noticed a broken section of PVC pipe extending out from a well pump. None of the setup appeared to be up to code. And the small shed was leaning to one side as if it was about to fall over. “I already see a few projects that need a little attention.”

Pandora used her hand to shield the afternoon sun from her eyes as she glanced toward his aunt’s house. “Maybe more than a little. I haven’t been inside yet, of course, but I ran a market analysis for you after our phone call yesterday.” She handed him a blue folder.

He quickly perused the multi-page report. “Impressive.” He’d Googled her, of course. She was the number-one agent in town. Speaking of the town, he had loads of questions about the place. “So what’s the deal with Nocturne Falls, anyway? I get the whole Halloween everyday thing. I’m sure the theme brings in tourists, but you all have taken it to the extreme.” Most of the streets and businesses had supernatural-themed names, like Broomstick Lane, Franks-n-Steins, Hats in the Belfry, and The Hair Scare.

“This town is magical.” A glint of mischief shone in her green eyes. “Spend some time here and you’ll feel it, too.”

He scoffed. “I know a public relations campaign when I see one.” He planned to take only as much time as he needed to get the houses in tiptop shape for the sale.

Pandora shrugged. “If you say so.”

His gaze landed on the trashcans near the curb. “Is there a list of rules for the neighborhood?” he asked her.

She cocked her head to the side. “Rules?”

“Homeowners’ Association documents, something like that?”

“Not specific to this neighborhood. What is it you’d like to know?”

He considered her question. “Everything. All successful organizations and municipalities have charters, or a constitution, or some kind of set of governing principals that make it all work. For example, how long can trash cans remain out after pickup before the resident can be cited?”

The real estate agent raised an eyebrow. “The family that bought the town when it was on the verge of bankruptcy keeps a tight rein on esthetics, without being jerks. As I’m sure you noticed on your drive through the area, Nocturne Falls is beautifully maintained.”

Although she hadn’t really answered his question, he couldn’t argue with that. From the fountain in the center of the downtown business district to the unusual orange and black-trimmed buildings to the cobweb-shaped streetlamp brackets, it was clear that everything stayed true to the Halloween theme, which did indicate a strong local government. “It is, but I couldn’t help but notice that my great aunt’s tenant hasn’t taken in his trashcans. And the yard looks…” He glanced toward the other house. “Abandoned.”

Pandora’s eyes widened. “I’d call the gardening style…homey. I think it’s kind of charming. They have all sorts of wildflowers growing.”

Well, maybe abandoned had been too strong a word, but it was at least…unmanicured. “Do you know the tenant?” And who was the beautiful siren he’d glimpsed? Not that it mattered. He ought to be picking the agent’s brain about the fastest route to a sale.

“Sorry, I don’t.” She tipped her chin at the folder she’d given him. “I use public record information. I’m sure that your aunt’s lawyer has that information.”

All the lawyer had given him was the name, Steve Mercer. He sent a quick text to the lawyer to have him send the lease. “So how do we proceed from here?” he asked Pandora.

“If you’d like, I can take a look inside your aunt’s house. That’ll allow me to give you a more accurate idea of a fair asking price.” She pursed her lips. “As far as the other property goes, the best course would be to knock on the door and introduce yourself to the tenant. See if he’ll show you around.”

“Should I tell him I’m planning to sell?”

“I would, but you might not want to lead with that.”

“Good point.” He fished the key out of his pocket. “Let’s start with Aunt Dorothea’s place.”

After they’d done a walk-through of his aunt’s house, Griffin had a long list of repairs to tackle, thanks to Pandora’s suggestions. As they headed outside, his phone buzzed with a message. He checked the display. There was an email from the lawyer along with an attachment. The lease, no doubt.

He accompanied the real estate agent to her car and frowned at the renter’s trashcans, which still were not put away.

Pandora pointed a key fob at her car to unlock it. “I’ll email you my list of local handymen, electricians, plumbers and such. As soon as the work’s finished, I’ll be happy to list it for you.”

Most of the repairs were within his capabilities, and since his bank account hadn’t yet recovered from the divorce settlement, he planned to do as much as he could himself. But local contractors might come in handy. He shook hands with the real estate agent. “I’ll let you know when we can check out the other house.”

After she drove off, Griffin returned to his aunt’s porch to skim the lease. Better to have an idea of the terms before he spoke to the man. A few minutes later he headed next door and grabbed two of the renter’s trashcans then returned them to their empty brethren on the side of the house. His tenant could get the rest. Heading up the walk to the rental, he pushed aside a tall flowering bush that blocked almost half the width of the path at one point. He ducked to avoid a wind chime that hung over the first step leading up to the porch, then parted a beaded curtain before he actually set foot on the floorboards. “Maybe I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs,” he muttered under his breath.

He took a moment to absorb the décor. A rattan loveseat near a large window was piled with half a dozen brightly-patterned pillows. An old wire spool had been transformed into a small coffee table and was topped with a sheer scarf and several pillar candles that were burned about halfway down. Dreamcatchers, hanging planters, and more windchimes dangled from hooks in the ceiling. Talk about sensory overload.

But he had to admit that together, all the mismatched items worked. This Steve person—or maybe his female friend—had a knack for bohemian-style decorating. Which didn’t excuse them from maintaining the yard. His gaze landed on an electrical outlet that wasn’t up to code for the outdoors. He followed the cords to two sets of fairy lights crisscrossing the ceiling. Scratching his head, he made a mental note to speak to the resident about that.

A wood sign over the door said, Namaste. Must be hippie types.

Like my mother.

An unwelcome memory of her flashed through his mind—those intense brown eyes, her crazy blond mop of frizzy curls. And the back of her old bumper sticker-covered VW bug as she’d left him for good.

His gut tightened.

Deal with it.

Aunt Dorothea had been related to his mother, and there was a chance that he might come across photos or other reminders of her as he sorted through his aunt’s belongings in the coming weeks. The painful memories would be a small price to pay considering that the proceeds from the sale of the properties would allow him to realize his life-long dream of buying his own place in New York. After spending his career inspecting so many residences, he’d finally found the perfect house for himself, and he’d be able to put down his own permanent roots. That feeling of never being settled, of not being on solid ground, would be a thing of the past.

He stepped to the door, drew a deep breath, and knocked. Half a minute passed as he waited. Until the door opened, and the woman he’d seen earlier stood there, a serene smile on her pretty face, charcoal eyes glittering with warmth. Up close, she was the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen.

Since his divorce, he hadn’t met anyone who’d piqued his interest. But now, when he was a thousand miles from home, staring at the woman who was probably his tenant’s girlfriend, and completely ineligible, an explosion of wow! had him completely paralyzed. Her cinnamon-colored skin glowed with youth, although her regal countenance and high cheekbones called to mind a sculpture of an ancient Egyptian queen. “Can I help you?”

His heart pounded. He started to say something, but the words jumbled together in his head. Was he having a heart attack? Why couldn’t he speak?

The woman narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you all right?”

No, he most definitely was not.

Chapter Two

Stevie waited for the man in her doorway to say something. Although she’d be perfectly happy if the Clark Kent lookalike just stood there because she was definitely enjoying the view. His jaw worked, but nothing came out.

After a few more moments, he scrubbed a hand over the dark stubble on his cheek, and straightened to his full height—which was pretty tall—she guessed around six-foot-three. “Hello,” he finally managed with a deep voice steeped in sexy. “I brought in two of your trashcans.”

Why? She glanced toward the curb, but couldn’t quite make it out through the rhododendron. Which meant that no one could see her from there if the man meant her any harm. She tightened her grip on the doorknob, ready to retreat into the cottage.

“I trust you or your boyfriend can get the other,” he said. “One had rolled out into the street and could have caused an accident.”

“On this street?” She rubbed the pentacle charm on her necklace, silently shoring up the protection spell she’d charged the item with. “It’s not like Crossbones Drive is a major thoroughfare. Although so many people are multitasking these days, fiddling with their phones, rather than concentrating on driving. I guess that makes it more likely.”

“Is that right?” His glasses slipped a little down his Roman nose. “As a matter of fact, I sideswiped one of your cans, and now I have a nice scratch on my Volvo. And I never look at my phone while driving. That’s against the law.”

Uh oh. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were at fault. I appreciate you putting the cans away, and I’m sorry you weren’t able to avoid hitting one.” As wide as the street was, she wondered why he hadn’t merely steered around the runaway trashcan. She started to shut her door.

The man held up a palm. “Wait, I’m not finished.”

Did he want compensation for a possible ding or scratch on his expensive car? If so, she hoped he didn’t ask for much. She was barely getting by this month. Well, every month. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for Steve, the tenant.”

It wasn’t the first time someone had mistaken her name for a masculine version of it, although she wasn’t ready to share the fact that she was the person he wanted, not just yet. Particularly because the man still hadn’t said who he was. “Why?”

His brow shot higher. “Because he isn’t following the rules, starting with taking in the cans in a timely manner. And then there’s this…” He swept his hand toward the yard. “…this overgrown weed patch. It’s his responsibility to keep up the place.”

So he was her new landlord? Darn. She’d been hoping that whoever Mrs. Percival had willed the house to would be as sweet and wonderful as she’d been. Apparently not. Didn’t matter that he was kind of adorable in a nerdy sort of way. All she really needed in a landlord was someone who’d maintain the status quo, and not raise her rent.

She drew a breath to a count of four, then let it out slowly. The pranayama calmed her, as she’d hoped. “Those aren’t weeds, sir.” She stepped around him, and through the beaded curtains, descended the porch steps and gestured toward the bushes of yellow flowers on the right side of the yard. “This is calendula. I use its flowers to make a tea that has anti-inflammatory and healing properties.” Moving a few feet to the left, she pointed out the lavender. “In the spring and summer I use this to make a potpourri that helps me fall asleep, and the best lavender tea bread in the south. The white sage is great for keeping negative energy away.” She met his stare. “Usually.” Picking an early yellow and red bloom off of the mostly bare witch hazel plant growing near the fence, she sniffed the strong fragrance, then held it up for him to do the same.

But he merely stared at the blossom as if he had no idea what to do. “Where’s Steve Mercer? I should be having this conversation with him since he’s the tenant.”

Stevie returned to the porch. “It’s not Steve, it’s Stevie. That’s me.”

“You? Why didn’t you say so?” He followed her up the steps, swatting aside the beaded curtain strands as if they were pesky flies.

She sat on the loveseat. “I’m saying so now. Talk.”

He leaned against the railing and folded his arms. “Fine. My name is Griffin Dunlap. Dorothea Percival was my great aunt, and she left her house and this one to me. I plan to put them both on the market as soon a possible.”

The veggie burger she’d eaten for lunch at Howlers churned in her stomach. Her thoughts jumped back in time, a decade and a half ago, when a social worker and a policeman had removed her and her brother from their mom’s care.

“I’m clean,” her mother had pleaded with the cop. “Have been for almost a month.”

The middle-aged social worker frowned. “You were warned twice about keeping your kids in conditions like this.” She flashed an official-looking badge at Stevie’s mom. “This is your last warning before we pursue removal.”

It wasn’t long before Stevie saw that social worker again when the woman took Stevie and her brother from the house for the last time. Soon after, their mom was dead.

Because I left, because I wasn’t there to save her.

How could she abandon all the cats she’d rescued? If she wasn’t there, surely they’d end up starving, hurt, or at the county animal control, where some would be euthanized. No, she couldn’t leave her home. Could he force her to move out? “I have another eighteen months on my lease.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m aware. But there’s a clause in it that gives the landlord the right to terminate that lease in the event of a sale. I’ll print a copy of it for you if you don’t have yours.”

She gulped. Had sweet Mrs. Percival slipped that in when Stevie had renewed? She had to admit that every time she read legal papers, her eyes tended to glaze over within a few moments. “But…Miss Percival wouldn’t have wanted me kicked out. She liked me. And I cared about her, too.”

His Adam’s apple slid up and then down his neck. “I’m sorry, Miss Mercer.” He glanced toward the yard. “I have no interest in keeping two houses that are a thousand miles from where I live, particularly if they’re not well-kept.”

Not well-kept? She resisted the urge to argue. After the chaos of her childhood, she’d striven for a peaceful mind in the face of any and all obstacles. Maybe she could appeal to his sense of right and wrong. “I’ve made a lot of improvements. When I first moved in, almost three years ago, the house was in terrible shape. Your aunt told me several times over the years that I was welcome to live here as long as I liked.”

She tamped down a kernel of emotion as she thought about her elderly neighbor. They’d connected on several levels since Miss Percival had been a witch, just like Stevie and her grandmother. And the elderly woman had confided that she’d always felt like an enigma in her family since she’d never married as her sisters had. Plus she only had one relative who’d inherited the witch gene, a niece whom Miss Percival had confided had spent several years in prison.

“I wish my aunt had put that in writing, Miss Mercer, but she didn’t.”

This was so unfair. It wasn’t his aunt’s intention for Stevie to be thrown out of her home, she was sure of that. “I’ve made a lot of improvements to the house, at my own expense. I replaced several of the appliances, and repainted inside and out.” She’d sunk most of her savings into renovating the cottage because she’d hoped to buy it someday. Only now wasn’t that time. It would be a couple years before she could replenish her savings enough to be able to afford a downpayment.

She ticked off the other projects she’d completed on her fingers. “I refinished the wood floors in the living room so my meditation students could be more comfortable; I covered the old kitchen counters in mosaic tiles, and I added a screened lanai onto the back of the house where I keep the cats I rescue.”

He raised a dark eyebrow. “Wait a second. You hold classes here? And an animal rescue? I don’t think your lease allows for businesses to be run out of your home. In fact, I’m sure it doesn’t.”

A headache flared to life at her temples. “Miss Percival was completely aware of what I do in my home. My cat rescue is hardly a business. It’s just something I do to help out. Most of the cats are eventually adopted. Only the adult ferrals are permanent guests. In fact, your aunt adopted one of my kitties, Bandit. That cat was always at Miss Percival’s side. The day your aunt went to the nursing home, she asked me if I’d care for Bandit while she was gone.” A lump formed in her throat. “I suspect that she knew she wouldn’t be back. She wanted to be sure that her baby had a good home. Bandit and my cat have bonded now.”

“Well…thank you for…following her wishes.” Griffin used the hem of his polo shirt to clean his glasses.

Which gave her a chance to get a better look at his hazel eyes, and the flecks of gold she hadn’t noticed through his lenses. Was that emotion she saw in his crinkled brow and downturned lips? She hoped it was. Otherwise, she’d likely find herself homeless soon. “Were you close?” she asked him. “To your aunt, I mean.”

He cleared his throat. “It’s been many years since I last saw her.”

Why hadn’t Miss Percival mentioned any great nephew? Before she had a chance to give that much thought, an older model pickup truck pulled to the curb in front of her house, and a guy who had to be a bodybuilder climbed out and headed toward them. It took her a moment to recognize her friend Joelle’s brother, Asa as he strode toward them with a huge sack over his shoulder.

“Afternoon,” Asa said as he climbed the steps to the porch and pulled aside the strands of beads. “Is this still a good time? I brought some cat food, as a thank you.”

The news that her landlord might sell her home out from under her had apparently made her forget that Asa was coming by to pick up the cat he’d decided to adopt. She managed a smile for him. “Of course. Thanks for the kitty food. I think that’s the biggest bag of it I’ve ever seen.” Turning her attention to Griffin, she said, “We’ll have to continue this conversation later.” Hopefully, much later.

Griffin nodded. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow then.” With that, he brushed past Asa and left.

She showed Asa through the house and out to the lanai where the cats lived. “The food goes right in there.” She opened the large bin where she kept the cat food.

Asa set his burden down and used a pocketknife to open the sack. Then he set it inside the large container. “I feel like I interrupted something outside.” He slipped his knife into his back pocket then combed his fingers through his sandy brown hair.

“No, nothing important.” Only the most upsetting moment of her week. Griffin’s announcement felt a lot like receiving a lethal snake wrapped in the loveliest gift box and tied up with a perfectly starched bow. So what that Griffin was kind of handsome, and that he smelled like the pine trees near the falls?

“I always find that it’s best to let the cat choose you, rather than the other way around,” she told Asa.

He chuckled. “Exactly what Joelle said.”

She stepped out of the enclosure to give him some time alone with the cats and sat down near her grandmother. “Asa’s picking out a kitty.”

“Mm-hmm. Who was the other man, the tall one with glasses? When I looked out the window at you, you didn’t seem pleased with him.”

“Just the new neighbor. We were talking about his aunt, Miss Percival, who left him the house.” Her grandma didn’t need to know about the possibility that Stevie might have to leave her beloved cottage. Why worry her? With any luck whoever bought the house would honor her lease.

But what if they didn’t? How long would it take her to set up another meditation studio, and a garden like she had now? How was she going to find enough money to move? And worst of all, what would she do with all the rescue cats? Who’d be there to take care of new strays in the neighborhood?

A chill rolled over her skin. She couldn’t lose her home. There had to be something she could do. She was a witch, after all.

The next afternoon, after a full day of yard work, Griffin finished inspecting his aunt’s roof. The shingles were still in fair shape, and the flashing around the chimney only needed a minor repair, which he could do easily and cheaply himself. He glanced over at Stevie’s backyard but didn’t see her.

They’d had a couple of brief conversations across the fence that morning, conversations he’d wished had gone on longer. He’d asked her a few questions about the town, things he already knew, like where the local supermarket was, and the best place to buy paint and hardware. He enjoyed talking to her, hearing her voice, watching her gesture with those long, sleek arms.

As he stepped onto the top rung of the ladder, a strong gust of wind whipped at him. Tightening his grip, he took another step down, but the wood gave way, cracking under his weight. Thankfully, he caught himself and managed to make it safely to the ground. Weird. He’d inspected the ladder just hours earlier and had deemed it relatively new and perfectly safe.

He pulled his jacket closed and heard high-pitched laughter from Stevie’s house. Several women wearing workout clothes strode down her walk, each carrying a rolled up yoga mat. Two more followed a moment later.

Squinting toward the porch, he tried to see past all of Stevie’s decorations, but in the fading light, she was nowhere in sight. He carried the ladder toward the backyard just as the clouds opened up. Coming around the front of the house, he glimpsed a petite blonde leaving Stevie’s place. The young woman raced up the street and practically jumped into her car.

A little rain wouldn’t hurt him. He took his time, peeking toward the rental house several times, but Stevie didn’t come outside. Why would she? Wasn’t as if he’d made a great impression upon her yesterday, and she’d been dying to see him again. He’d acted like an ass to her, immediately launching into an attack on the state of her house. He probably should have listened to Pandora’s advice and waited to tell her that he planned to sell her house.

When the rain picked up, he took cover on his porch, although he wasn’t yet ready to head inside. So he sat on Aunt Dorothea’s double glider. Something about storms called to his inner romantic, a passion his ex-wife hadn’t shared. Come to think of it, Marci had shared almost none of his passions. She’d scoffed at his rare coin collection, hadn’t cared less about his love of baseball, and she’d never once joined him on a run, even though she’d professed to adore the high she got from cardio exercise.

Light from Stevie’s place drew his attention, the strings of fairy lights illuminated her porch just enough for him to appreciate the bohemian appeal of her decorating. He had to admit, she’d created a unique ambiance that was strangely appealing. She sat in a wicker chair, close enough to the edge of her porch that he was able to glimpse her profile, her long, graceful neck, and her turquoise-colored braids. If he were honest with himself, he was enjoying watching her from the dark corner where he sat.

Suddenly a squall picked up and knocked over something on Stevie’s porch. She gasped a second after he heard the unmistakable sound of breaking pottery. He headed next door to help, but by the time he’d made it there, Stevie had disappeared inside.

He climbed the steps and found a terracotta flowerpot shattered on the floor, its contents of soil and some sort of succulent were mostly intact. He crouched to gather the shards and pricked his finger on the cactus needle.

“Back to give me more bad news?” Stevie stood over him, hands on her slim hips, her brow crinkled with worry. She set a small bag down next to the wreckage of her plant.

“No, I heard something break. Thought I’d help.” A quick check of his finger assured him that his injury was minor. Only a small dot of blood marked the spot.

The door opened and an eighty-year-old version of Stevie poked her head outside. “What’s goin’ on out here?”

“It’s nothing, Grandma,” Stevie told her.

Griffin waved to the woman. “I came over to help. I’m staying next door.”

The woman scowled at him. “You’re the one who’s got my girl all tied up in knots, hmm?”

“Grandma!” Stevie said sharply.

His gut constricted. Standing up, he offered her his hand to the older woman. “I certainly hope not. I’m Griffin Dunlap, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Mm-hmm. Cledith Mercer, Stevie’s grandma.” At least she shook hands with him, which didn’t lessen his guilt one iota.

Lightning flashed, momentarily turning the elderly woman’s eyes an eerie white. A deafening clap of thunder boomed, rattling the windows. Suddenly a black streak bolted out the door, nearly knocking over Mrs. Mercer.

“No!” Stevie cried. “Namaste, come back here.” She took off running after the cat, brushing past all the overgrowth in the yard, but the feline was too quick. “Namaste!”

The worry in her voice cut straight through Griffin. He ran off the porch, fishing his phone from his pocket and turning on the flashlight.

Lightning exploded all around, and sheets of rain pelted them. Stevie was soaked. Water dripped from her braids and her clothes as she shoved tall bushes aside, calling for her pet.

“Get out of the rain,” he told her. “I’ll find it.”

Ignoring his offer, she continued her hunt. He followed her through the thicket and hooked her arm. “It’s dangerous. Please let me.” It was the least he owned her after he’d showed her his worst the moment she’d first laid her eyes on him yesterday.

A powerful gust blew through the trees and pushed Stevie against him. She backed away. “Sorry.”

He hadn’t minded at all.

Thunder rang out. A split second later the cat shot out from under some bushes then disappeared.

“There she goes.” Stevie hurried toward the edge of the yard.

He searched the immediate area, but couldn’t spot the cat.

A blast of wind knocked over the last remaining trashcan at the curb and started it rolling down the hill.

“No!” Stevie cried. “She’s in the can.”

Griffin didn’t waste a moment. He sprinted after the runaway can. Headlights hopscotched across the asphalt. An SUV drove toward him.

Please, no.

He waved his arms as he ran. The vehicle pulled to the side just as the can crashed into a streetlamp. Making it to the spot a few seconds before Stevie, he crouched at the open end of the can and offered up a silent prayer that the feline was all right.

The cat leaped out and onto his chest, digging its claws deep into his skin. Gritting his teeth against the discomfort, he clutched the animal to him, petting the wet fur. “It’s okay. You’re fine.”

After a moment, the black cat lapped raindrops from Griffin’s chin and nose.

Stevie relieved him of the kitty and held it in her arms like a baby. “You naughty girl! Thank the goddess you’re safe.” Meeting Griffin’s stare, she smiled. “I don’t know how to thank you. Namaste was my first rescue, my little love.”

His heart drummed furiously as he watched her. Something warm and unexpected uncoiled inside him. Until his eyes started burning, and his nose itched. He turned away to sneeze, and again.

“Are you allergic to cats?” Stevie asked.

He shrugged. “I guess I could be. I’ve never been around them much.”

She sighed. “Sorry about that. Come on.” She tipped her chin toward her house. “The least I can do is get you a cup of nettle leaf tea with honey and apple cider vinegar. That’ll help.”

The only familiar item she’d mentioned was honey, but it was worth a try. “Sure, thanks.” He sneezed again.

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.” Grabbing the can, he started back toward her house.

Stevie adjusted the cat in her arms but it reached both of its front paws out to Griffin. “What are you doing, silly girl? Looks like you’ve made a friend, Griffin. I think she’s got a crush on you.”

He patted the kitty’s head. “Sorry, Namaste, you’re not my type.”

As they approached her door, Stevie stopped on the porch. “About the trashcans…in the future, I’ll be more diligent about bringing them in from the street. I’d had a crazy two days of classes and cat rescues, which is no excuse.”

He held open the door for her. “Understandable.”

Stevie set the furry little escape artist on the sofa then faced Griffin. “Make yourself at home. I’ll get your tea started.”

Even in damp purple yoga pants and a black tank top, she had a rare grace and elegance about her. Something regal radiated from her, and he couldn’t help but treat himself to the view as she strode from the room.

He took advantage of her absence to check out his surroundings. One wall was mirrored, and on the floor in front of it was a neon green yoga mat and a Bluetooth speaker. The few pieces of comfortable-looking pieces of furniture occupied only about a quarter of the room, while the rest of the space was empty, save for a few oversize colorful pillows. Even with little furniture in the room, something about the space felt…homey. He wondered what it would take to create such a warmth in the house he was buying in New York.

Hearing Stevie still banging around in the kitchen, he crossed the floor to check out a darkened corner that held a small table with several unusual objects on it. In the center, there was a ceramic statue of a heavyset woman holding a sphere over her head, similar to ancient artifacts he’d seen in history books back in high school. A brass incense burner and a miniature black cauldron flanked the woman. To the right of the cauldron, there was a decorative knife with a pink blade. He picked up the object and held it toward the light. The hilt had a star carved into it similar to the one Stevie wore around her neck. No, not a star—a pentacle, the same symbol he’d noticed on various items in his aunt’s house—a stone box, and a blue candle.

His father had always said that Aunt Dorothea was just as weird as Griffin’s mother and that both women had dabbled in the occult—that they fancied themselves to be witches. And witchcraft was what had caused his parents’ divorce, which had him on unsteady ground in the first place. He’d been only five years old at the time. He and his dad had moved half a dozen times since then, but not one of their residences had ever felt like home. After he’d married Marci, he’d been so sure that he’d finally feel settled, only he never had. He swallowed past the thickness in his throat.

Stevie’s footsteps transported him back to the present. He turned to face her.

“Here’s your tea.” Her gaze fell to the knife in his hand, and her brow lifted.

Feeling a little like a snoop, he returned it to where he’d found it. “I was just admiring your…” Glancing back at the unusual trinkets, he mentally searched for the right word. Were they tools of witchcraft? Or just some bizarre collection?

She closed the distance between them, and he again noticed how gracefully she walked, almost glided. Picking up the knife, she said, “This is an athame. I use it to cast a circle.”

Her explanation didn’t clear up anything for him. “Cast a circle?”

She nodded. “Witches cast circles to create sacred space in which we do spells, and venerate our gods.”

Apparently, his dad had been right about Dorothea, and maybe his mom, too. But for the moment, the notion that Stevie identified as a witch bothered him more than the others. Although in truth, he knew little about what it meant to be a witch. “Is that anything like Satanic—”

“Definitely not.” She handed him the tea. “Most witches around here practice white magic like I do. We use stones, herbs, and oils in order to manipulate energy, and bring about changes.”

Taking a sip from the cup, he contemplated her explanation. The tea was good—sweet yet tangy.

Did she really think she could do magic? Or did she just enjoy the idea, much like his cousin, Aurora used to call herself a princess? Her parents had indulged her to the point that she really believed herself to be royalty. She’d insisted that everyone in the family bow to her, and address her as Your Highness.

“So you cast spells?” he asked Stevie.

She sat cross-legged on a thick pillow on the floor. “Sure. All the time.”

He opted for the sofa. An overweight white cat with an orange tail and black around its eyes hopped onto the couch cushion next to him. “Like on people? To make them do things they might not otherwise do?”

Stevie snorted a laugh. “Not at all. A spell is merely…a prayer with props.” She gestured toward the feline. “That’s Bandit, by the way, your aunt’s cat.”

He drank more of her brew and realized that his eyes no longer stung. “Did you cast a spell on me, or put one in this tea?”

Another laugh and her eyes lit up the most dazzling shade, like sparkling amber. “Why would you think so?”

He drew a deep breath through his nose. “Allergy symptoms are gone.”

A mischievous grin settled on her lips. “I know a little about herbs—which ones help allergies, and which ones turn a landlord into a field mouse.”

“To get snatched up by a cat, hmm?” No doubt that she was the most disarming witch he’d ever met, albeit the first. Or at least the only one who admitted that she was one.

The reminder that she might be evicted when he sold the houses settled on his shoulders like heavy stones. Despite the fact that he’d only just met her, and hardly knew her at all, he liked her. Which was going to make selling her house a little more difficult.

Griffin could barely keep from staring at her flawless skin, and glossy, pink lips. But he couldn’t let himself be distracted from his mission, no matter how pretty Stevie was, or how enticing her lavender scent. He had to remember that although her cottage wasn’t the derelict sort that he’d assumed it to be when he’d first seen the yard, Stevie was walking a thin legal line by holding classes there, and having a makeshift cat shelter on the premises.

Could she be trying to charm him into ignoring the fact that she was running more than one business out of the house? Would she do the same to any prospective landlord? There was no telling how many guys had been captivated by her cat-shaped eyes, or her long, slender neck.

In his job as a code enforcement officer, he’d encountered loads of people who’d attempted to befriend him in hopes of convincing him to look the other way when he found violations at their property. Certainly, he barely knew her, but it seemed far-fetched that she’d be that deceptive.

Namaste jumped up to the sofa and head-butted his arm. He petted the cat’s silky fur then waited to see if the allergy symptoms returned. They didn’t. After he finished the rest of the tea, he set the cup down and glanced at the table in the far corner that held all of those strange, witchy objects.

He cleared his throat. “Did you and my aunt do any spells together?”

Stevie dropped his gaze. “That’s not really the sort of thing I discuss outside of my inner circle.”

Like a secret society. “I get it. So covens, or whatever you call them, are akin to AA meetings, huh?”

Her brows angled downward toward her nose. “We keep each other’s confidences, but I’d hardly compare being a witch to having an addiction you need to recover from.”

An image of his mother flashed in his mind. According to his father, his mom had had an addiction—to witchcraft, one he couldn’t abide. If it wasn’t an addiction, why would she have left them?

Left her only child.

“I think it’s a perfect comparison,” he said. “Just like addicts, witches apparently keep secrets, and by your own admission, manipulate people. Like turning someone into a toad.” He laughed at his own comment. He couldn’t help himself. There was so much about her that made him think about his mother, and it brought out the worst in him.

Her nostrils flared. Gone was the serene expression that had been there only a few minutes earlier. “You’re twisting my words. I said that we manipulate energy, not people.”

“Semantics.” He didn’t want to believe Stevie was a bad person, but his mother was, and she was also a witch. She’d abandoned him, and had then managed to get arrested and thrown in prison. All the pain of losing his mom—growing up without her, with his tyrant of a father instead—welled up inside him. She’d chosen witchcraft over her own son. Shards of pain stabbed at his temples.

Stevie stood, eyes blazing, jaw tight. “Energy, not people. Those are two completely different things.” She swept a hand through the air, and a powerful breeze blew through the room. “Energy.”

Whoa. He gasped at the display.

Suddenly a funnel of dust and cat hair rose from the floor, surrounding him. His heart pounded. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The burning sensation returned to his eyes. His nose itched with the need to sneeze. And he did—again and again and again.

This was crazy. How could she have done this? Could she really be magic?

Chapter Three

“What are you doing, child?”

Stevie recoiled at her grandmother’s harsh tone. “It wasn’t me.”

Her grandmother narrowed her eyes at her. “Who then?”

“I have no idea.” Poor guy was sneezing his head off. She’d always subscribed to the witch’s credo of Harm Ye None. Well, except that once…

She snapped her fingers and the allergen tornado immediately disappeared.

Her grandma banged her cane on the floor as she made her way over. “That is not how I taught you to use your gifts, young lady.”

“I told you, I didn’t do it.” At least, she didn’t think she had. That one time, three years ago, she’d been blinded by anger and fear, and had barely remembered using her magic, yet she had. Her grandmother had taught her how to defend herself against trouble, and somehow, in the heat of the moment, just that once, her magic had kicked in to protect her. It had happened almost automatically.

Tommy’s angry face filled her windshield, his fist pummeling the car’s metal roof. “What are you gonna do, witch, turn me into a toad?” He held up her purse, which he’d snatched from her the moment she’d closed up the meditation studio for the night. Then he dumped the contents onto the ground—her cell, wallet, and everything else.

Locked in her car, she gripped the steering wheel, helpless in the dark lot. Paralyzed by terror, she could barely see straight. If he managed to find her spare car key, she was toast. He’d already demonstrated that he had no qualms about hurting her, just as her mother’s boyfriend, Lamar had done when she’d been a child.

Tommy stomped on her phone and sunglasses, laughing like a lunatic. His rage was an entity, a thing unto itself.

What had she ever seen in him? He’d been a bad boy from the start, drinking heavily, never holding onto a job for more than a few months. She’d been so sure that her love could fix him—save him from himself. But that moment the month before, after she’d ended things with him when he’d broken two of her ribs, that had made it crystal clear that she’d made one of the biggest mistakes of her life by allowing him into it.

So she’d used her magic, cast a binding spell on him that ended his tirade. Only she hadn’t stopped there. She’d wanted him to know fear—just like the fear that he’d instilled in her by stalking her for weeks. The second spell she’d cast made him think that he was surrounded by snakes and spiders. And she hadn’t removed it until she’d driven away from Charleston for an hour.

This was hardly the same. Yet Stevie’s hands and face tingled as Griffin pulled tissue after tissue from the box on the coffee table.

He didn’t deserve that. She wished the floor would open up so she could escape her own folly. Despite the fact that he had the power to kick her out of her beloved cottage, he seemed like a stand-up guy. He’d rescued her cat, after all. He was nothing like Tommy or Lamar. And she wasn’t the frightened girl who’d been backed into a corner with no other defense but to lash out with magic. Not anymore.

“I-I’m sorry, Grandma. Maybe you’re right.” Griffin seemed to have a knack for breaking through the Zen aura she’d worked for so long to perfect. Apparently, it wasn’t so perfect after all.

“Are you all right?” Stevie asked him.

He blew his nose. “Still trying to process what the hell just happened.”

“Probably the heat kicking on. It works a little too well.” Her grandma hobbled over to him and handed him a bottle of Nocturne Falls water.

He waved away the offer. “I’m not thirsty, Mrs. Mercer, but I appreciate it.”

“It’ll wash away your symptoms, son. Trust me.” Her grandmother slid a look at Stevie.

“Yes, that’ll help,” Stevie added. The water from the falls made it hard for humans to detect supernaturals. Stevie even suspected that it helped them to forget the strange incidents they saw in the town. “You’re probably dehydrated. Drink the whole thing. You’ll be good as new.”

Shifting his gaze back and forth between the women, he shrugged. “Can’t hurt.” He twisted off the cap and drank.

Stevie drew a relieved breath. It was fine for him to know that she was a witch, as long as he thought that meant she merely cast spells or mixed up potions. The Zen face she wore for her students and everyone else wasn’t a façade. It was what she strove to be, and mastering her old fears and reactions was part of that goal. She’d have to redouble her efforts.

Griffin rubbed a hand over his chin. “You were right. I’m feeling a lot better. I should let you ladies get on with your evening.”

Stevie walked him out. The storm had all but stopped, save for an occasional distant flash of lightning. “Thanks for rescuing Namaste. I’m sure she’ll be your friend for life now.”

He bent to pick up the remaining fragments of the planter. “Glad someone over here likes me.”

Stevie huffed. “I like you, too. It’s just…” The fact that a man she’d only met today had already managed to get under her skin was more than a little disconcerting. She hugged her arms around her body.

“I understand.”

“Lucky for my cat, and for me that you’re fast. You got to her a lot quicker than I could have.”

“I was on the track team in school.” He parted the beaded curtain and descended the steps.

She leaned against the railing. “So was I.”

“I’m not surprised. I can spot a runner a mile away.” His gaze trailed over her body, sending the heat of awareness through her.

Their eyes met and held. The air between them crackled with a sensual charge.

Until he winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound…like a come on.”

Ignoring the pleasant ache low in her abdomen, she reluctantly dragged her stare away. “Of course not. I didn’t take it like that.”

“I…should go.”

She nodded, eager to escape the fresh tension. “Have a good night.”

“Night.” His gaze fell to her mouth before returning to her eyes. He held his ground as if he was waiting for something.

Whatever it was, she wanted no part of it. So she closed herself inside to find a replacement container for her plant. As she searched through the utility closet, her grandmother entered the room. “That display of magic was very unlike you.”

How was it that her grandma could still inspire the same sense of shame as she had since Stevie had been a little girl? Those stern eyes still held a unique power over her. “I’ve already apologized even though I’m not even sure it was me.” She grabbed a plastic container and a small bag of potting soil.

Her grandmother didn’t budge.

Stevie sighed. “Maybe Griffin managed to touch a nerve.”

“If you ask me, he’s touched more than one.” She narrowed her eyes at Stevie.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Shutting the closet door, she tucked the items under her arm.

“I think you’ve already started scoping out what his Achilles heel is, and now you want to save him from it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What Achilles heel?”

Her grandmother shrugged. “Time will tell.”

She was making no sense. “You want me to turn on the TV and find that dancing show you like?”

“Not tonight. That show was a lot more fun when your grandfather was still alive. He and I used to wager on who’d win.”

“You and your bets.”

Her grandmother’s eyes glazed over. “When Grandpa and I were young, we’d make all sorts of bets with each other—like what team would win the world series, which elevator would arrive at our floor first, what people at nearby tables in restaurants were going to order.”

“What would the winner get?” Stevie asked.

“Depended on the wager.” Her cheeks turned rosy. “When we were younger, the prize was usually something…intimate.”

Stevie cringed. She didn’t want to know.

“But as we got older, well the prizes changed to a more practical nature. Most commonly, the loser had to empty the dishwasher.”

Stevie had to laugh at that. “You miss Grandpa a lot, don’t you?”

The rims of her grandmother’s eyes grew red. “He was the love of my life. Of course, I miss him. It’s lonely living alone. Too quiet. Too much time to reminisce.”

Stevie clamped down on her sadness. “You’re always welcome to live here.”

“I know, child. I appreciate the offer. But I should be around folks my own age.”

“What about where your cousin Etta lives?”

She sighed. “We’ll see. That reminds me—I promised to call Etta back. She invited me to come visit her while I’m here. Maybe I’ll like that assisted living place where she lives.” With that, she left the room.

Perhaps a facility like that would be a good move for her Grandma. But what in the world had she meant about Stevie wanting to save Griffin? Why should Stevie care about helping the man who could cause her to lose her home?

Her grandma was confused. Or just plain wrong. Stevie had no interest in Griffin. All she was concerned about was not losing her house. Period.

Twice in her life, she’d been forced by other people to move from her home, and both instances had awful repercussions on those she loved dearly. She couldn’t handle being the cause of any more tragedies. Not ever again.

First thing the next morning Griffin grabbed his copy of Stevie’s lease. He’d skimmed it over when he’d first gotten it, and he was pretty sure that the clause about the new owner’s right to terminate a renter’s lease was solid, but that was before he’d met the tenant. Before he’d realized what a nice woman she was. Settling into his aunt’s rocking chair, he pored over the document but found nothing that would help Stevie if a buyer wanted her out. No reason why he couldn’t give her a new lease, except that fact that doing so might compromise a potential sale. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Hammering out front drew him to the porch. A couple guys were erecting a signpost in Stevie’s yard—or trying to. One of the workers kept attempting to push the post-hole digger into the ground to no avail.

“Give it to me,” the other man said. Despite moving the tool to a different spot, the workman still couldn’t make a hole.

Griffin watched them work for the next ten minutes before they finally gave up, picked up the For Sale sign, and drove off. Hopefully, Pandora would send out a more competent company when she heard that the men had failed.

A little while later, after Griffin had packed a few boxes full of his great aunt’s books from the living room, someone rang the doorbell. He wondered if it might be Stevie, pr perhaps someone else there to erect the For Sale sign. But when he opened the door, his hopes were dashed.

A balding middle-aged man with a hefty gut stood on the porch. “Oh, good. You’re here. Mind if I take a look around?”

Griffin took in the man’s faded jeans, his t-shirt touting a mattress company, and five o’clock shadow. “Who are you?”

Amusement flashed on the man’s face. “My wife always tells me that I assume everyone knows who I am.” He offered his hand. “Bud Weller. I own Better Bedding Depot over in Helen. We advertise on TV all over the state.” He started humming an unfamiliar tune. “Better Bedding Depot. Make the most of bedtime.” He lifted a graying eyebrow. “Now do you know me?”

Griffin shrugged. “Sorry, I’m not from here.”

“Oh, that explains it.” He dug into his back pocket and handed Griffin a business card. “I’ve been looking in the area for two side-by-side houses. You see, the wife’s mother has been staying with us.” He rolled his eyes. “It was only supposed to be for a few weeks. That turned into four months and counting. I’m growing desperate. Would you mind if I looked inside?”

“Pandora Williams is my real estate agent. You’ll have to make an appointment with her,” Griffin told him.

The man rubbed his hands together. “If you don’t use an agent, you can pocket that five or six percent that you would’ve paid them.”

That sounded on the unscrupulous side. According to the internet site, Griffin had checked out, trying to cut out the agent was a no-no. Besides, Pandora knew a lot more than he did about buying and selling, and he probably needed whatever advice and expertise she’d offer. “I don’t think so, sorry.” He backed away from the door and started to shut it.

Weller held up his palms to stop him. “Wait, wait. Okay, you don’t want to cheat your agent, fine. Give me a chance to crunch the numbers and figure out what the houses are worth. I’ll make you a generous offer, I promise you. It’ll take me a few days to come up with a fair price. You won’t regret it.”

The man was starting to sound like a used car salesman. A headache flared behind Griffin’s eyes.

Weller dropped his shoulders and frowned. “Look, Mr.…”

“Dunlap,” Griffin supplied.

“Mr. Dunlap. My mother-in-law is driving me nuts, same goes for my wife. We can’t have her mom under the same roof. One of them will kill the other. And you know what they say. Happy wife, happy life. The opposite is true, too. Miserable wife, miserable life. This would solve all my problems.”

It would mean that Stevie would definitely have to move out. His chest constricted.

“Think about it,” Weller said. “Let’s touch base in later in the week, okay?”

On the up side, selling both properties at once would mean no waiting for the money. And that he’d definitely have the down payment he needed to buy the house in Brooklyn. He’d always dreamed of being a homeowner, but after his divorce, he’d all but given up. Until he’d gotten word about his aunt’s will. Days later, he’d practically stumbled upon his dream house in Brooklyn. It was as if it was meant to be.

“What do you say?” Weller asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

Something popped very close to them. Before Griffin could figure out where the noise had come from, a flash of black fell between the men.

Weller jumped backward, but not fast enough to completely avoid being conked on the head by the horseshoe that had been hanging over the door. He yelped and rubbed the spot above his eye.

Griffin gasped then looked up at the spot where the horseshoe had been. Why hadn’t he noticed that the nail was old and rusty? He should have caught that immediately. “God, I’m so sorry.” Crouching, he picked up the good luck charm that had apparently turned to bad, at least for Bud Weller. He gestured at the already-red bruise on the older man’s head. “Can I get you ice for that?”

Weller glanced past Griffin, into the house. “Yeah, sure.”

Rather than let the stranger inside, Griffin nodded. “Be right back.” He shut the door and went to the kitchen to make an ice pack. When he returned to the porch, he found the investor on the swing wearing a smile. Handing the man a bag filled with ice, a small water bottle, and two aspirin tablets, he drew a relieved breath that the accident hadn’t been worse.

Weller held the pack to his head as he took the medicine. “Just another reason to unload the houses quickly. No telling what else will break, and land you in hot water, liability wise.”

A protest was on the tip of Griffin’s tongue, but he thought better than to give it voice. Although he ought to cover himself. “I can take you to the nearest hospital, just in case you’ve got a concussion.”

Weller waved off the suggestion. “I’m fine. I’ve gotten worse bumps playing with my kids when they were babies.”

Griffin nodded, hoping the man didn’t change his tune about his injury.

After Weller left, Griffin’s headache refused to quit. Even aspirin wasn’t touching it. Maybe a good workout was what he needed. So he grabbed his Bluetooth earbuds, and changed into sweatpants, a t-shirt, and his running shoes then headed out. For him, his long runs had always been the best time to clear his head, like his own brand of meditation. Only today, his brain refused to turn off. He couldn’t get Stevie out of his mind. She’d not only made the house her own little bohemian paradise, but she’d even cultivated so many plants and flowers in the yard that she used for her concoctions, like the medicinal tea she’s brewed for him the night before. Surely it would take her years to recreate a garden similar to the one she had. She’d obviously invested a lot of her own money in the cottage. Too bad that Aunt Dorothea hadn’t thought to put her verbal agreement with Stevie into the lease.

And what about Stevie’s cat rescue area? What would happen to that if she was forced to move? But he couldn’t dwell upon her predicament. She’d signed the lease, and despite the fact that she may not have taken note of some of the legalese, he couldn’t turn his nose at a prospective buyer merely because the man would likely kick her out. Finding one who’d let her stay could take months, long enough for him to lose the Brooklyn house. The sooner the properties sold, the sooner he could get out of this weird town, and back to New York.

As if that wasn’t as strange a place as this.

Tears for Fears sang about ruling the world in his ears.

Aunt Dorothea must have willed him the properties for a reason. The logical one was that she’d wanted him to have the money and to do with it something that would be meaningful to his life. Certainly buying his own home would be life-changing.

As losing hers would be for Stevie.

So much for clearing his head. Gritting his teeth, he tried to purge all thoughts of her from his mind.

He rounded a corner and found himself in the heart of the downtown commerce area, and passed a few businesses that lived up to the town’s Halloween theme: Mummy’s Diner, The Hallowed Bean, and Misty’s Boo-Tique. Which only brought his thoughts back to Namaste, and the cat’s very sexy mistress. He was already sweating enough thanks to the workout, but images of Stevie only raised his internal temperature. Her tall, slender frame and graceful gait were like that of a dancer. He shouldn’t be dwelling on what that satiny-looking skin of hers felt like, yet he was.

Lost in his thoughts, he stepped off the curb and nearly walked right in front of the trolley. Just in time, he stopped. Yeah, he had to get hold of himself. Best thing he could do was to avoid Stevie, not think about what selling the rental house would mean to her.

Taking a left onto Crossbones Drive a few minutes later, he glanced at the mountains in the distance. Couldn’t deny that this was a beautiful area. He understood why his great aunt had lived here for so long. What he still didn’t get was why she’d left all her worldly possessions to him, a relative she’d barely known. If she’d wanted to do something nice for him, why hadn’t she made more of an effort to forge a relationship with him?

Maybe she was too much like his mother, who’d ignored him most of his life. Even after she’d been released from prison, she’d never once come to visit. Sure, she’d sent the occasional birthday card, and she’d contacted him through Facebook when he’d been in college, but he’d refused her friend request there.

Too little, too late.

Nearing the top of the hill, he spotted Stevie next to her car. The trunk was open and she kept checking the fitness tracker band around her left wrist. As he got closer, he heard her huff several times and crane her neck toward her house.

He stopped at the end of the driveway. “Good morning.”

She whipped her head around, eyes wide. “Oh, hi, Griffin.”

“Everything okay?” he asked her.

Her cheeks were pink, making her even prettier. “I should have learned a long time ago that there’s no rushing my grandmother. Grandpa used to tell her that they had to arrive places an hour before they actually did. He said that was the only way to get her anywhere on time.”

“Is she leaving?”

“Just for a week. I’m taking her to visit her cousin, who lives about an hour and a half from here. But if she doesn’t hurry up and get moving, I won’t make it back in time to teach my one o’clock class.”

“You teach a class on Sundays?”

Her dark eyes registered surprise. “Two in a row, actually. First yoga, then meditation. Since some of my clients can only find time on the weekends, I do classes on both Saturdays and Sundays. I don’t have the luxury of turning away business, particularly not now.”

Not now because she feared she’d have to move soon, and come up with all the expenses that entailed? Now he felt like even more of a heel. “I could take your grandmother where she needs to go.” The words had tumbled out of his mouth.

Stevie’s brow shot higher. “You did hear me say that it’s an hour and a half away, right?”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. “Excuse me.” He checked the display. Bud Weller. Dismissing the call, he squared his shoulders. “It’s a beautiful day. And your grandmother seems like…a lovely woman.” Who was quite protective of her granddaughter.

Stevie pursed her lips. “I don’t know. It seems like a huge imposition.”

“It isn’t, trust me. I enjoy driving, especially when the scenery is as pretty as it is here.”

Mrs. Mercer hobbled out of the house. “Would you mind getting my suitcase, dear?”

“Of course, Grandma.” Stevie held up her index finger for him to wait. “Let me make sure that’s all right with her.”

“Why don’t you let me ask her?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, sure.” She jogged to her porch then disappeared into the house.

Griffin approached Mrs. Mercer. “Good morning. Nice to see you again.”

Her smile exaggerated the wrinkles around her mouth. “Same to you, Griffin.”

Tipping his head up to the sky, he drew a loud breath. “Beautiful day for a drive.”

Mrs. Mercer scowled. “Not when a certain young lady with turquoise braids is rushing me.”

“Stevie?” He rubbed his chin. “I’ve got an idea. I’m itching to go for a drive through the mountains. All I’m missing is companionship.”

She set a hand over her heart. “You mean me?” Her face lit up with a rosy flush.

“I do. Mrs. Mercer, would you do me the honor of letting me drive you to your cousin’s?”

She playfully jabbed his arm. “I had no idea that you were such a flirt. But I’ll only take you up on your offer if you’ll start calling me Cledith.”

“Cledith it is.” He glanced down at his running clothes. “Do you have time for me to grab a quick shower? I promise I can be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m in no rush. It’s my granddaughter who’s chasing a clock.”

After he’d helped her back to Stevie’s porch, he headed home to clean up. Strangely, he was looking forward to the time with Cledith. Growing up, he hadn’t had a single adult female relative he was close to since his dad had severed all ties not only with Griffin’s mom but also with her family. And his paternal grandmother had passed on before he was born.

Cledith was exactly the sort of grandmother he’d always wanted—wise and kind, with the slightest hint of stern mama bear. Not that he needed her to fill that void for him now. He was an adult, and way past that sort of thing. He probably shouldn’t take the time for the drive, but if it helped out Stevie, what harm could it do? Plus, in truth, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to glean some insights about Stevie from her grandmother.

Fifteen minutes later he stepped up onto Stevie’s porch to pick up her grandmother. Both women were seated on the loveseat. Stevie gave him the sweetest, most disarming smile.

His whole body tingled. He coughed, afraid his voice would fail him. Forcing his gaze to her grandmother, he picked up her old-fashioned suitcase. “Ready?”

Stevie helped Cledith stand. “This is so nice of you, Griffin. Thanks.”

He waved off her appreciation. “She’s doing me a favor. I’ve never seen this part of the country before, and who knows when I’ll be back here. I might as well do a little sightseeing.” Hooking the older woman’s arm, he led her off the porch and to his car.

Stevie brought over a bouquet of lavender tied together with a yellow ribbon and handed it to him along with the address where her grandmother was going. “The blooms are for Etta, Grandma’s cousin. You’re a lifesaver, by the way.”

He just hoped that he wouldn’t be the person who’d be the opposite of a lifesaver when he sold her house.

She peered past him and sighed.

“What?” he asked.

She frowned. “I’ve been trying to entice that feral kitten over for a week. It’s unusual to see one that small all alone so I’m afraid it’s an orphan.”

“If it gets hungry enough, it’ll come to you.”

Her lips bunched to one side. “Doesn’t always work that way.” Backing away from his car, she waved to her grandmother. “See you next week, grandma.”

Minutes later he steered the Volvo out of the neighborhood, and the orange, black and purple buildings of the downtown business district came into view.

“Do you have time for one quick stop?” Cledith asked.

“Sure. Where?”

Pointing to the left, she said, “There. Delaney’s Delectibles. They have sinfully good pastries and cakes. I’d like to bring a box of truffles to my cousin.”

“No problem.” He parked in front of the sweet shop and helped his elderly passenger into the store. Glass display cases were chock full of every conceivable confection. All sorts of wonderfully sweet aromas awakened his appetite. “Wow.”

“Told you.” After she’d asked for half a dozen honey-bourbon truffles from the brunette behind the counter, she pointed to the red velvet valentine tortes. “And two of those, with a few napkins, please. Maybe a couple of the chocolate peanut butter cupcakes as well.”

When they returned to the car, she offered Griffin a torte. “You have to taste this.”

How could he resist? The flavor and texture were amazing. “I’ve never eaten anything so delicious.”

“You should try Stevie’s lavender tea bread. She uses the lavender from her garden.” She pointed at a pink, red and white poster on the lamppost next to the car. “I told her she ought to enter it in the Valentine’s Day Bake-Off. She’d better sign up soon, though since Valentine’s Day is less than two weeks away.”

He read the advertisement as he finished the sweet. Beating the red velvet torte would be tough.

“I’ve always loved Valentine’s Day. Every year, my Cedrick bought me a dozen pink roses, which are my favorite.” She wiped her cheek.

His chest tightened. “I’ve never been much of a fan of that particular holiday.”

She raised her brow at him. “When you’re in love, it’s the most wonderful day of the year. Now that he’s gone though, everything reminds me of him—especially since I still live in the same house we shared for more than forty years.”

“Forty years, wow.” His dad insisted that they move every year or two, which Griffin later learned was because his father feared his ex-wife—Griffin’s mother—would find them, and try to gain visitation rights.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll like the community where Etta lives. Although I doubt it. Sounds like a holding pen for a bunch of half-dead fools who spend their days playing shuffleboard or bingo.”

He started the car and pulled out onto the street. They passed a fountain with a gargoyle in the middle. “Did you see that? I could swear that statue just blinked.”

“I’ve heard tourists mention that. Probably animatronic or something.”

Looked pretty lifelike to him. He scrubbed a hand over his face.

Cledith pulled a plastic water bottle out of her gigantic purse and offered it to him. “You must be thirsty.”

It was the same brand as he’d had at Stevie’s house the night before, apparently locally bottled, according to the label. Now that she’d mentioned it, he was thirsty. “Thanks.”

“Do you have a sweetheart?”

“I’m divorced.” The torte soured in his stomach.

“I see.” Cledith reached into the box for a cupcake. “Your expression says it all. You were hurt, just like Stevie was.”

It was none of his business, but something compelled him to ask. “What happened to her?”

She exhaled loudly. “That girl has a heart of gold. No, not gold, something softer and more fragile. You see, she had a rough start, which began before she was even born. Her father took off as soon as he found out that she was on the way. Her mama couldn’t get that drug monkey off her back, and then Simon, Stevie’s half-brother, well, he followed in their mother’s footsteps.” She shook her head. “Stevie tried and tried to save them, but somebody’s got to want to be helped.”

A lump lodged in the back of Griffin’s throat. His GPS directed him to take a right turn onto the highway.

Cledith pulled out a crinkled tissue from her giant purse and dabbed it under her nose. “I think Tommy reminded her of her brother Simon in certain ways. He’d spent part of his youth in foster care, just like she and her brother had.”

“Tommy?” he asked.

“Her ex-boyfriend.” She let out a growl. “Don’t get me started on him. Turned out that he had a problem with gambling. A year and a half into the relationship she had to end it. But Tommy wouldn’t take no for an answer. He stalked her. So badly that she was forced to leave Charleston to get away from him, which was when she moved to Nocturne Falls.”

It made sense that Stevie rescued cats. Sounded as if she tried to save more than animals, though.

“What’s your story?”

He could feel Cledith’s eyes boring into him. “I already told you.”

“I taught middle school English for twenty-seven years, son. I know the Cliff Notes version when I hear it. I’m sure you remember those. My students would skim those skinny booklets instead of actually reading a book. And I’m talking about classics—The Great Gatsby, A Farewell to Arms, Catcher in the Rye.”

He chuckled. “I was never one of those students. I followed the rules, even if that meant reading some dreaded book that I hated.”

“Tsk, tsk. Those are all wonderful stories.”

“What did your husband do?”

“He was also a teacher, science.” She let out a bittersweet sigh. “We’d planned to move down to Florida after we retired, but we never got around to it. There’s a spiritualist community in the northern part of the state. When Stevie moved to Nocturne Falls, she’d been trying to decide between there and Freedom Moon Camp. Nocturne Falls won the coin toss.”

“Spiritualist? Like a place for witches?” That sounded like somewhere his mother would fit in. His jaw automatically tightened.

“Witches, psychics, healers.”

Cledith pointed to a blue sign that read, ‘Rest Stop - five miles.’ “I’ll need to stop,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

A few minutes later, as he waited for her to use the facilities, he checked his cell and found a message.

Working on my offer. Should have it ready by the first of the week.

Bud Weller

Selling the properties quickly would mean he wouldn’t have to do many repairs. On the other hand, it would also mean that Stevie would have to move out sooner, rather than later. Not to mention that he’d never really get much of a chance to know her.

Whatever happened, happened. The sooner he sold the properties, the sooner he’d have the down payment for the place in New York. He should be more excited about that. Only he wasn’t.

Chapter Four

“Did your grandmother leave already?” Mallory asked when she arrived for Stevie’s four o’clock class a few days later.

“She’s visiting her cousin in Helen for the week.” Stevie closed the curtains and started lighting candles to create the perfect soothing atmosphere. “She’ll be back after that, and stay until the end of the month.”

“Good. Then I’ll get to see her again. She’s a sweetheart.” Mallory rolled out her yoga mat in the middle of the room. “I keep trying to get Cyrus to come to your meditation classes, but he says that he had enough contemplation time during his years in his genie lamp.”

Stevie laughed. Mallory’s fiancé was now officially retired from his genie duties. “No doubt.”

“Darcy and Amethyst should be here any minute. We all just left the salon. What a crazy day. Every one of us was booked up.”

Stevie managed a smile, but the last time the three women—who all worked at the Hair Scare—had taken her class together, they’d buzzed on endlessly about their amazingly wonderful boyfriends. Darcy and Aiden’s wedding was fast approaching, and the other women were both in pretty serious relationships that very well could eventually lead to marriage. Nothing made Stevie more aware of the fact that she was single than being bombarded by happily coupled women. “What about your twin?” she asked. “Do you know if Jordan plans to take class today?” If Jordan was coming, at least Stevie would have one unattached compadre.

Mal shrugged. “I wouldn’t count on her. The pet-sitting/dog-walking thing is keeping her pretty busy almost every day.”

When Ember showed up a few minutes later, Stevie drew a relieved breath and pulled her bff into a hug. With her jet-black hair, flawless bone structure, and gorgeous olive skin, Ember could still grace any billboard or magazine cover, as she had before she’d retired from modeling a few years ago. Whenever Stevie went out with her, guys swarmed around Ember as if she was the last female on earth. Yet Ember—like all other Amazons—had no need for a man.

Stevie held her at arm’s length. “How are you? You should have told me you were coming. We could have made plans to do something before class.”

“Mi primo,” Ember said. “I wanted to surprise you. And honestly, I’ve not been feeling well this week.”

“What’s wrong?”

Her friend shrugged. “I keep getting these headaches, bad ones. Probably my sinuses. My cabin is surrounded by everything I’m allergic to.”

“Have you tried feverfew tea? Or chamomile?”

Ember shook her head.

“I have both herbs. Let me send you home with some. The chamomile might make you too drowsy to drive all the way home.” Since her friend lived on the other side of the falls—a half-hour drive from town—it would be better for her to have the concoction after she got home. “The tea can be a little bitter because of the feverfew, but it works. Add a little honey to it.”

“I will, thanks.” Ember squeezed Stevie’s hand. “Thank you.”

Next Jordan, Mallory’s twin blew in, hair tied up in a messy ponytail. She opened her mat and immediately stretched out on it. “What a day. I’ve walked eleven dogs, had conversations with two naughty kittens about their destructive behavior and had a heart to heart with one aggressive male cockatiel about why he can’t get along with his mate.”

“Sounds like business is good,” Ember said. “¡Felicidades!”

Jordan blew out a long breath. “Thanks. Pets sure gab a lot. And they’re terrible gossips.”

All the women laughed.

Jordan pulled Stevie aside. “One of your cats wants you to pick him up more.”

Stevie gave her friend her total attention. “Really? Which one?”

Jordan shut her eyes a moment. “You call him Mittens. He’s the Siamese, Russian Blue mix that came to your rescue last week. He says that he isn’t feral, just homeless.”

Stevie made a mental note to start holding his more. “Tell him I’ll work on that.”

“He says that there’s a strange energy on the property, something supernatural.”

“Really?” Stevie swallowed hard. Although supernatural energy could be anything. What the cat sensed could very well be coming from one of Stevie’s friends, or even Stevie herself.

Jordan stilled for a moment. “The cat says that the energy feels male to him. And something about a Leo.”

“A Leo?” She’d have to ask Griffin what his sun sign is. Before Stevie had time to think about that, Joelle poked her head through the door. “Am I late?”

“Right on time,” Stevie told her.

The redhead made a show of swiping a hand across her forehead. “I was in such a rush that I forgot my mat. Can I borrow one?”

Stevie tipped her chin to the corner where she stored the extras she kept for such occasions.

Minutes later, Amethyst and Darcy showed up, and Stevie started the yoga class. She managed to concentrate on nothing but her students and their sequences. An hour after they’d begun, Stevie ended the class with Savasana. As her students remained in the corpse position, she got up to fetch water for everyone. Out the kitchen window, she spotted Griffin waving to her.

After checking that her class was still zonked out in the other room, she quietly let herself out the back door.

Griffin met her at the fence between the properties. “Heard from your grandmother? I hope she’s having a good time with her cousin.”

She nodded. “Apparently the security guard knocked on Etta’s door at eleven last night to ask them to quiet down. Sounds like they’re reliving their wild days, huh?”

Shaking his head, he grinned. “She’s quite a character.”

Standing this close to him, she caught a whiff of his woodsy scent. Very masculine. “I hope Grandma didn’t talk your ears off.”

He tugged on both of his earlobes. “Nope, they’re still there. But she did tell me a lot about you.”

Her pulse quickened. “Really. Like what?”

With a mischievous grin on his face, he shrugged. “This and that. She happened to mention that you make a mean lavender tea bread, one that she said you ought to enter in the Valentine’s Day Bake-Off. According to her, it would be a shoe-in.”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe if my grandmother is judging.”

“So let me be the judge.”

A zing of excitement danced up her spine. “Is this your way of trying to wrangle some lavender tea bread out of me?” Which might be a good way to thank him.

Chuckling, he held up his hands in surrender. “You got me. I’m curious. I’ve never eaten anything lavender.”

His gaze swept over her body, so quickly that if she’d looked away for a half a second, she’d have missed it. Heat bloomed in her belly, just as it had yesterday when she’d seen him in his aunt’s backyard, working on the storage shed. And the day before that, when she’d glanced out her window and found him weeding the flower patch between the houses. His sweat-soaked t-shirt stuck to his skin, emphasizing the vee from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist.

Taking a backward step, she cleared her throat. “I should get back to my class.” She hurried inside.

Half an hour later, after she’d finished the meditation, she walked her students out to the porch.

“I loved that meditation,” Darcy commented.

“It was awesome,” Jordan added.

That was a relief. Apparently, even with the fact that Stevie hadn’t been able to block Griffin from creeping into her head during the class, she’d still managed to give her students a positive experience. Even now, her thoughts kept returning to him—his smile, his captivating eyes. He’d been so sweet about driving her grandmother to her cousin’s. Yet he seemed immovable about selling her house.

Jordan elbowed her. “Who’s the hottie next door?” The blonde tipped her chin toward Miss Percival’s house, and Stevie spotted Griffin up on the roof painting thick black liquid around the base of the chimney.

Hottie? His t-shirt hugged his chest and shoulders, which showed off those impressive deltoids, biceps, and pecs. “That’s my new landlord.” At least until he made her homeless. The reminder put a damper on her mood.

Jordan let out a low whistle, only loud enough for Stevie and the other women to hear. “Lucky you. If he was my landlord, I’d be stopping up my sink every other day just to get him over to fix it.”

Amethyst fluffed her long purple locks. “He must have great balance to stay on such a steeply-pitched roof. And aren’t we all lucky it’s been so unseasonably warm this week that we get to see all of his muscles in action?”

“Not all of them,” Jordan added.

Stevie laughed along with her students, but her stomach started burning. “He won’t be in town for long,” she told Jordan. “So don’t get any ideas.”

Jordan raised a blond eyebrow at her. “Oh, I get it. You’ve got dibs on him, hmm?”

Heat rose to her face. “N-no. Not at all.”

But her denial didn’t stop her friends’ good-natured teasing.

“Somebody’s got a crush on her neighbor,” Darcy said.

“I do not!” Stevie protested, even though there was a kernel of truth in Darcy’s statement.

Even Mallory chimed in. “I totally get it, Stevie. I didn’t want to acknowledge that I liked Cyrus. At first.”

“Quit messing with my girl.” Ember pulled Stevie into a hug. “That’s my job. He is pretty sexy, in a Clark Kent sort of way. Admit it.”

Clark Kent. That was exactly how she’d characterized him that first day. Stevie shoved her away, unable to stifle a grin. “Okay, fine. Maybe Griffin is kind of hot.”

“Glad you think so.”

Stevie gasped at Griffin’s voice, which had come from right behind her. Heat crawled up her neck and face as she slowly turned around.

The smudge of black across his forehead and the amusement in his eyes only made him more appealing.

“Got to run,” Jordan said.

“Me too.” Mallory hooked her twin’s arm and the two joined Darcy, Amethyst, and Ember as they hurried away from Stevie’s cottage.

Stevie cleared her throat. “See you all next time.”

After the women were gone, Stevie mustered the courage to speak to Griffin. “We were just kidding around. I hope you didn’t take all that seriously.”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Is that right?”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Now I’m heartbroken.”

Pulse racing, she hugged her arms around her body. “I should…go clean up.”

“Wait.” He took a step closer, which did nothing to quell the butterflies flitting around in her stomach.

“Yes?”

“I almost forgot why I came over here.” He took off his glasses and wiped sweat from his forehead.

Which gave her another opportunity to really see the flecks of gold in his eyes.

“I remembered you said that you were a runner in school.”

“Mm-hmm. East Charleston High track team.”

“Do you still? Or would you like to?” He slipped his glasses on then shielded his eyes from the late afternoon sun. “I’m asking because…I thought maybe you’d like to join me tonight, for my run.”

Her pulse quickened. She shouldn’t get too attached to him. But what harm could there be in a simple workout? “Well…”

“I don’t really know my way around here yet,” he said. “It’ll be dark soon. You wouldn’t want me to get lost, would you?”

She couldn’t resist teasing him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

There was that devastating smile again. “Ouch.” He slapped his chest and pretended to stumble backward. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”

She hadn’t a few days ago when she’d used her magic to stir up an allergen tornado. And then he’d helped her out by driving her grandma across the state. Her chest constricted.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I get it. You see me as the enemy, the evil landlord. You know, just because I plan to sell your cottage, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll have to move out. You’ve got a proven track record as a good tenant, and that’s a plus for an investor in search of rental property.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure, investors buy houses to use as rentals all the time. I’ll ask my real estate agent if she can market the houses with that in mind.”

A kernel of hope lifted her mood. “That would be great.”

His smile widened. “So will you come with me?”

She hadn’t done any cardio since before her grandma had arrived more than a week ago, but how could she say no now? “Sure, what time?”

“In about half an hour.”

They parted ways, and Stevie went inside to change. She tried on three different outfits, which was totally ridiculous. This was a workout, not a date. She checked her look in the full-length mirror in her bedroom—hot pink Capri exercise pants with a white t-shirt. Then she synched her braids into a ponytail that she secured with a pink bandana. After she’d smoothed on a coat of clear lip-gloss, she headed outside.

And found Griffin waiting for her, wearing a tank top and shorts. The man had legs like freight trains. She could hardly keep her eyes off of them.

“Got to love this weather, huh?” He crouched to tie his shoelace. “It’s probably in the forties in New York right now.”

She nodded. “This is pretty warm for us, but I’m not complaining. Although the temperature will drop fast now that the sun’s set.”

“I like it cool when I exercise.”

They started out walking.

“What do you do in New York?” she asked.

“I’m a code enforcement officer.”

That made sense. “Do you like it?”

He picked up his pace, and Stevie matched it.

“I do. It’s rewarding.”

“Rewarding?” She turned right at the end of the street. “Citing people, fining them?”

“It’s my job to inspect new construction and renovation projects for safety issues. Mostly it’s making sure that buildings, and the people who inhabit them, are safe.”

She hadn’t thought of it that way before, but it made sense. Keeping up with Griffin’s pace was becoming a little challenging, but she was determined to do it. Sweat trickled down her neck. They ran in silence for a little while. When the automatic irrigation system kicked on in front of a large Victorian mansion on Shadow Drive, she made a detour through the corner of the yard to cool down in the sprinklers.

“What are you doing?” Griffin jogged in place and kept glancing toward the house. “That’s private property.”

She hopped over a sprinkler head, which got her just wet enough to give her a second wind. “Relax. I’m not tearing up the sod or tagging the place.”

“Tagging?”

“Marking it up with graffiti,” she clarified. Apparently, he hadn’t spent any time in the hood, as she had during the early part of her childhood, all the years she’d lived with her mother.

His lips flattened to a thin line. “Regardless, walking through someone else’s lawn is technically trespassing.”

Mentally rolling her eyes, she returned to the sidewalk and leaned against a lamppost. “You need to lighten up, Griffin. Live a little, be spontaneous.”

He stopped moving and set a hand on his waist. Muscles around his jaw ticked.

Yikes, maybe she shouldn’t have said that.

“I can be just as spontaneous and fun as anyone.” With that, he tore off his shirt and tossed it to her. Then he jogged straight through two of the sprinklers.

Stevie snorted with laughter as she brought him his shirt. Although she was reluctant to give it back to him since she was so enjoying staring at his bare chest. When he held out his hand for it, she had no choice but to return it.

Their fingers touched. He didn’t move away.

A zing of attraction tendrilled through her whole body, heating her right back up, despite the cool water clinging to her skin.

“See?” he said. “I can be spontaneous. Heck, I just broke a rule, too. You must bring out the rebel in me.”

His gaze tracked down her body, and awareness washed over her. And reminded her that she was wearing a white shirt, which probably made her look like a participant in a wet t-shirt contest.

She folded her arms over her chest and stepped out from under the glare of the streetlamp. “Yes, you’re quite the rebel. What’ll you do for an encore, jaywalk?”

Moving a little closer, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Snarky becomes you.”

And half naked became him. She managed a smile, but with him standing so near, smelling like pure man, looking like Adonis in horn-rimmed glasses, it was all she could do to draw a breath.

He pulled on his shirt, his gaze never releasing hers. “Race you home?”

“What do I get if I beat you?” she asked.

“You sound like your grandmother.”

How had he known about her grandma’s penchant for bets? “You certainly found out a lot about her on your little drive.”

“Wasn’t so little.” He threw her a playful wink. “If I win, you make me some lavender tea bread.”

“And if I win?”

He shrugged. “Won’t happen. But on the off chance that I should fall and break a leg or something, I’ll buy you dinner.”

“Maybe the restaurant will give you a discount, on account of your leg being in a cast and all.”

Laughing, he gave her a thumbs up. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Without waiting for him to respond, she took off, sprinting to the end of the street then took a right turn onto Gravestone Way. Seconds later, Griffin passed her. She caught up to him at the bottom of the hill on Crossbones Drive where he was jogging in slow circles.

“I was wondering when you’d get here. I think I grew a couple of gray hairs while I was waiting.” He licked his lips. “I can almost taste that lavender bread.”

She was breathing heavily, but she refused to give in. “Who’s snarky now?”

As she started walking up the hill, Griffin showed off by running a curvy pattern next to her. “I’m giving you a handicap,” he explained.

“I’ll give you a handicap, one that makes you limp.” She pasted on an exaggerated scowl. “I’m still in the race. I’m a lot stronger than I look.”

“I’m sure you are. Care to up the ante?”

“What’d you have in mind?” As long as she kept him talking, she got to rest, and save up her energy for the final sprint up the hill.

“How about a homemade dinner, and lavender tea bread for dessert.” He waggled his brow.

A pleasant ache took root in her belly. “And if I win?”

He shrugged. “Name your price.”

First thing that popped into her head was asking him not to sell her cottage, but that wasn’t fair. Besides, they were just playing around. She skimmed her gaze over his broad shoulders, his long, muscular legs. “I can think of some sort of physical labor you could do for me.” She caught him tracking his gaze down her body before meeting her eyes, and her pulse leaped like a jackrabbit. Had he thought she’d been referring to something of a sexual nature? She gulped. Getting all hot and bothered about her landlord was a terrible idea. “I meant, around my house.”

His eyes flashed with amusement. “Of course you did.” He gestured toward the street. “Are you going to speed it up, or just forfeit right here and now? We should call your grandmother and let her bet on who’ll win.”

The challenge spurred her on. She charged up the hill, drawing on her reserves to go as fast as she could.

Griffin kept his pace slow, slower than she knew he could run, giving her the handicap that he’d mentioned.

Only it didn’t matter. The steep grade proved too much for her. A moment later he passed her. Worse, he didn’t seem to be exerting very much effort to do so. Griffin got to her house half a minute before she did. And he wasn’t even breathing hard. His smile widened. “So when’s dinner?”

Bending over, she huffed. Despite her loss, the notion of the two of them sharing a dinner at her place definitely softened the blow. “You don’t have to gloat, you know.” She straightened and met his stare.

He schooled the smirk from his face. “Sorry, I’ve been working on that. My dad is the most competitive person I’ve ever met, and I’m afraid this apple didn’t fall from the tree. I’d be happy to bring a humble pie to dinner.”

At least he owned up to it.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep from smiling. “Nope, you won fair and square. Give me an hour and a half. I’ll warn you, though, I’m a vegetarian, so if you’re set on meat, you’re out of luck.”

He hesitated for several seconds. Finally, he shrugged. “I can live with that.”

A cool breeze rustled the leaves on her magnolia tree and sent a shiver over her skin. The temperature was dropping, perhaps enough so they could have a fire later. Although she didn’t want to give him the impression that anything but a business relationship was between them was a possibility, and what was a fire if not romantic? “Guess I’d better start cooking. See you around eight?”

“Okay.” He waited there as she went to her door.

Instinctively sensing his eyes on her back, she felt her heart racing. Which had nothing to do with the run. She had no desire to start anything with a guy—and least of all her landlord. But still, the attention boosted her ego, which hadn’t happened for quite a while.

Minutes later as she mixed flour and sugar together, she reminded herself that this wasn’t a date. Griffin was her landlord and a temporary one at that. Still, she couldn’t completely quell the incessant sparks inside her. But if Griffin liked her half as much as she did him, maybe he’d consider keeping her house and continuing to rent to her.

No, of course he wouldn’t. Why was she allowing herself to get her hopes up? Chances were, Griffin was going to sell her house, and she’d be forced to move away from the home she loved. Unless she could convince him that it would be better for him to hang onto the rental. If he did, perhaps he’d come and visit periodically, to check on his property.

And to see me.

She dumped a stick of butter into an empty bowl to let it get to room temperature. Glancing around her kitchen, she swallowed past a lump in her throat. From the window seat in the breakfast nook to the slightly crooked built-in bookcase that she used for cookbooks, this place was her home, and she loved it. She’d always hoped to buy the place.

Maybe Griffin would wait a couple years, long enough for her to save enough money.

The sweet aroma of lavender filled the air. She’d heard that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. What better time to approach him about giving her a rent-to-own deal than while he was enjoying an amazing meal?

She stirred the lavender and milk concoction clockwise, as she always did, envisioning good things for herself and those she loved. Which gave her an idea. Protection spells could be for more than just personal safety. Why couldn’t she do one to keep her home?

After she’d left the lavender to steep, she grabbed her witch’s broom, and lightly swept in circles around the kitchen. “Sweep out evil, sweep out ill. Do my magic, hear my will. Besom, besom, my sacred broom. Sweep away darkness, sweep away gloom. Protect this land, protect this home.”

She visualized herself driving railroad spikes into the ground all around the house, symbolically securing the premises for herself. “Keep me rooted where I live, whatever it takes, I’ll surely give. While harming none, please find a way, that I can plant my roots and stay, stay, stay.”

Drawing a deep breath, she stilled. “So mote it be.”

Outside, the wind picked up, hopefully from the north—a grounding wind.

Then she finished the tea bread batter and popped it into the oven.

Heart filled with hope, she headed to her room to shower and change.

Chapter Five

Griffin stepped out of the shower and tied a towel around his waist. Steam hung in the air and fogged the mirror. Not that he’d be able to see his reflection without his glasses anyway. As he reached toward the sink for them, a chill—like icy fingers—skated across his back and shoulders.

Slipping his spectacles on, he shivered, and for the briefest moment, though he saw a large shadow pass behind him. He spun around, only to find himself alone in the bathroom. Yet he felt another presence, watching him.

A ghost?

Had to have been his imagination. The universe operated on a solid foundation of rules, and those didn’t include things like ghosts. This strange, Halloween-themed town was getting to him. Or else it was being in Aunt Dorothea’s house, constantly seeing her witchy accoutrement, like the old-fashioned broom with the crooked stick, the miniature cauldron in the kitchen that she’d used as a candy dish, and the myriad of glass jars full of herbs with strange names, like mugwort, slippery elm, and smudge.

Only a few days ago, he’d thought Stevie was kind of strange, too. But after spending a little time with her, and his long conversation with her grandmother, he wasn’t put off by Stevie. Quite the contrary. All he could think about was her. And despite being well aware that he could be dashing headlong into a sticky situation, he couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t want to. It had been way too long since he’d felt this good.

After he’d shaved and dressed in jeans and a lightweight sweater, he headed next door with a bottle of merlot that he’d found in his aunt’s pantry. A sweet lavender aroma hit him as he stepped up to Stevie’s porch. He hesitated just long enough for his growling stomach to quiet down before he knocked, yet the instant Stevie opened her door, a very different hunger overtook him.

Her skin looked freshly scrubbed, and without a stitch of make-up, was still flawless. Her warm smile lit up her dark eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile along. How could anyone not? Despite the nip in the night air, her company heated him up as well as a summer sun.

Backing into her living room, she motioned him in. “Dinner’s not quite ready yet.”

“I hope you like red.” He showed her the wine he’d brought.

“Perfect. You mind opening it?”

“Not at all.” He followed her toward the kitchen, which had a warmth and charm that was unpretentious in its simplicity. Small pots of herbs lined the windowsill—basil, mint, cilantro, and parsley. There was a big farmhouse sink, and a wooden hutch filled with mismatched dishes. An L-shaped bench and dining area in the corner had built-in shelves above with old-fashioned kitchenware, like a crank mixer, a small sifter, and a weathered tea kettle.

His ex-wife had decorated every room of the apartment they’d shared in an understated, modern style, which hadn’t had a fraction of the homey vibe that Stevie’s cottage did.

Steam floated up from a pot on the stove, and vegetables sizzled in the frying pan. “What’s for dinner? It all smells delicious.” But it was Stevie herself that piqued his interest, way more than the food.

“Pasta Primavera, Caprese salad, and of course, lavender bread.” She sliced a tomato on the cutting board. “Corkscrew is in the drawer by the coffee maker.”

After he opened the bottle, he filled two wine glasses she’d set out, and handed one to Stevie.

Tapping her glass to his, she said, “Cheers.”

“To a worthy competitor.”

Grinning up at him, she took a sip. “Mm. That’s good.”

“We should really toast to Aunt Dorothea since she provided the wine.”

Understanding, and then sadness registered in Stevie’s expression. “To Miss Percival.” She held his gaze as they both drank.

The Merlot was smooth, and he detected the flavors of chocolate and berries. Another sip and the wine quickly warmed through him, relaxing any residual tension.

Being so close to Stevie, he picked up on the sweet smell of lavender. Her skin was as smooth and perfect as fine silk, and her eyes shone like polished gemstones. “You’re very pretty.”

Dropping his gaze, she swallowed. “Thank you.”

What had come over him? He was no Don Juan. He’d never been so forward with a woman, particularly not one to whom he had no business having an attraction. The pick-up scene at bars had never been his thing, always preferring to get to know someone before he’d asked them out. But the moment he’d first laid eyes upon Stevie, it was as if lightning had struck him. Something about her appealed to him more than anyone he’d met in a very long time.

Bells started ringing in his head. Took him a moment for him to realize it was a timer going off.

Stevie shut off the burner beneath the large pot. “Pasta’s done.”

“Let me.” He reached for the handles at the same instant she did. Their fingers brushed, and their shoulders.

Too soon, she moved away and set a colander in the sink. After he’d rinsed the pasta, Stevie finished putting thick slices of mozzarella cheese and slivers of fresh basil on the tomato slices. Then she drizzled the salad with thick brown sauce. “Balsamic reduction,” she explained. “Ready to eat?”

He carried their wine to the table as Stevie brought over two plates, and a basket loaded full of crusty French bread. She lit two blue taper candles and slid into the booth.

“This is really nice. You could have just ordered pizza and I’d have been fine.” He inhaled all the wonderful aromas as he stared down at his plate, which she’d loaded with pasta on one side, and the Caprese salad on the other. “I see now that you’re an overachiever.”

Her eyes lit up with amusement, but that quickly shifted to something else. Desire? Yes, and it mirrored his own. Her lashes fluttered as she dropped his gaze. And all the air was gone from the room. He couldn’t stop smiling, even if he’d wanted to. Nor could he tear his eyes from her full, glossy lips, as he imagined the two of them kissing. Tasting the wine on her tongue.

After Marci, he’d padlocked his heart, or so he’d thought. But as he and Stevie talked, and ate, and laughed about the silliest things, he started to imagine moments yet to come, with her, moments he had no right to wish for. Like shared morning coffee, secret smiles over private jokes, fastening a necklace at her nape as they got ready to go out somewhere special.

His throat caught. This wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t. His whole life was back in New York, not here, with a woman who called herself a witch. Yet the chemistry was undeniable and terrifying.

“…and the Shop-n-Save has the best organic tomatoes in town, don’t you think?” She forked a bite of the Caprese as her black cat climbed into her lap, and cuddled against her, a lot like Stevie was burrowing into his heart. A drop of balsamic reduction clung to her lower lip, and he was so tempted to kiss it off until she licked it away.

He forced his gaze from those plump lips up to her eyes. “Yes, they’re very good,” he heard himself say.

Think about something else.

A black and white dreamcatcher hanging from the ceiling caught his eye. The top part was decorated with a woven yin and yang symbol, and the feathers and beads below followed the same color scheme. He tipped his chin toward it. “What exactly does that mean?”

Stevie set down her fork. “Yin and yang are a perfect balance—dark and light, intellect and emotion.”

In college, he’d registered for a philosophy class, but after only a week, he’d dropped it, finding the concepts way too abstract for his mathematical brain. “Which is which?”

“In Taoism, there are two fundamental principles. The feminine, or yin, is earthy, dark, and feminine. Yang is masculine, light, and heavenly.” She drained her glass.

As he poured her more wine, he considered what she’d said. Stevie was earthy and dark and feminine. She was a meandering, wavy line, with twists and turns, scrolls and flourishes.

He was practicality, rules, straight lines all the way.

They were definitely opposites. And taking their friendship to another level could prove disastrous.

Or it might be amazing.

Twirling a few strands of linguine around his fork, he attempted to concentrate on the food, rather than the beautiful chef. And for a few minutes, that worked, because the meal was pure perfection. The vegetables were tender, yet still flavorful, and the combination of the parmesan cheese, butter and garlic were absolutely sublime. Even the Caprese salad was the best he’d ever tasted.

Too bad that the culinary masterpieces weren’t enough to distract him from the most tempting vision in the room.

Stevie sucked a forkful of linguine into her mouth then shut her eyes and moaned with an almost erotic intensity.

All his blood headed south. Thankfully he didn’t need to stand up anytime soon because, at the moment, he couldn’t. It was all he could do to find his mouth with his fork.

A loud pop shattered the moment. Water spurted out of the base of the faucet.

Griffin jumped up from the table and ran to the sink. Fast as he could, he opened the cabinet underneath and turned off the valve. “I can fix this in the morning. I’ll need to go buy parts when the store is open.”

Stevie stodd over him, arms folded over her chest. “I’m glad you were here. It would have taken me a lot longer to shut it off.”

He got up and brushed off his hands. “Disaster averted.”

After they’d finished the main course, he helped her clear the table. “What else can I do?” he asked.

She sliced into the lavender bread. “Just have a seat on the porch. It’s such a nice night. We might as well eat dessert out there. You can bring out our wine glasses.”

Rather than go outside ahead of her, he opted to wait so he could at least open the door for her. Stevie carried two plates and forks out and set them on the homemade coffee table. Then she sat on the loveseat and lit a couple candles, bathing the space in a warm, comfortable glow.

She handed him a plate. “Tell me what you think.”

He thought she was stunningly beautiful, and the most graceful woman he’d ever met. Sitting there with her, on her cozy porch made him think about things like white picket fences, and gold rings. But he was getting ridiculously ahead of himself, and besides, that wasn’t what she’d meant. Taking a bite of the lavender bread, he closed his eyes for a second and savored all the wonderful flavors—sweet lavender, butter, vanilla. “I think…you need to enter this in the Valentine’s Day Bake-Off.”

Waving off his praise, she laughed. “Sounds Grandma’s been filling your head with ideas.”

“Maybe she has,” he said. “She’s right, though.”

“And here I’ve always assumed that Grandma only encouraged me to enter because it meant there'd be leftovers for her.” When she shivered, he grabbed an afghan from the wicker chair and wrapped it around her shoulders, letting his hands linger for a moment. Her long eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at him. “Aren’t you cold, too?”

Not as long as she was so near that he could smell her sweet, feminine scent, and see the way her throat twitched with a swallow. “Maybe a little.”

“I don’t mind sharing.” A pink glow rose in her cheeks.

Every nerve and fiber in his body came alive. He set down the plate and slid closer to her, pulling one side of the crocheted blanket around him. But it was her warmth that heated him up. “This is nice.”

He couldn’t recall wanting a woman more than he did at that moment. So he tucked away all the reasons he shouldn’t and focused on her pink-glossed lips. “May I…”

“Don’t ask,” she murmured. “Just do it.”

Unable to resist another second, he ran his thumb over her satiny cheek. Her eyes slipped shut as he brushed his lips against hers. And tasted the sweet wine there. When she let out a soft purr, he deepened the kiss.

Carnal desire coiled tightly through him. All the reasons why this was a bad idea vanished like smoke into the air. And he was lost.

Until a string of fairy lights came loose from the ceiling and fell down right between them. It was as if the universe was trying to keep them apart.

“That was strange.” Stevie hugged her arms around her body as Griffin hooked the fallen strand of lights on a different nail.

He sat down and scratched his head. “Very.”

Was some unseen force trying to sabotage things between them? She usually managed to do that all on her own.

Will he try to control me? Isolate me?

Hurt me?

“I should tell you that I’ve got some baggage. I don’t have the best luck when it comes to guys.”

Griffin whistled out a breath. “We have that in common then. I’m not exactly unscarred when it comes to past relationships.”

“You too, huh?”

“Let’s just say that my ex-wife let me down,” he said. “And not just me. As a vice president of a bank, she broke rules and lost her job because of it. I didn’t think she was that kind of person. I was wrong about her. Apparently, she was just like my mother.”

“Your mother?”

His Adam’s apple slid up and down his neck. “Another rule breaker.” The emotional scars showed in his frown and the deep furrow of his brow. He shook his head. “I digress. I’d much rather talk about you.” He leaned in for another kiss, and she couldn’t stop herself. Didn’t want to.

The world fell away. There was no landlord, no tenant. Only a man and woman. With a powerful attraction. Maybe she could help him to heal those deep-seated wounds.

The scents of wood smoke, pine needles, and her grandma’s yarn seeped through her. But over those comforting smells, the best was Griffin’s cologne.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, and the most wonderful ache settled low in her belly. She didn’t want the kiss to end. Only it had to. Taking things slowly was the only prudent course. Well, keeping their relationship purely platonic would be safest. That didn’t seem a viable option at the moment, though. If they didn’t stop soon, she might do something she’d regret.

Summoning all her willpower, she broke the kiss and eased away from him. “We should really—”

“Slow it down,” he finished. “You’re right, sorry. I guess I got a little carried away.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“So did I.”

Half a second passed before they were locked in another hot and heavy make-out session. She couldn’t get enough of his kisses, or the tendrils of sweet desire making their way to every part of her. Since Tommy, she’d been too afraid to allow herself to feel much of anything for a guy. And in that time, she’d learned every flavor of loneliness. Maybe it was time to move on, to take a chance.

Since Griffin wasn’t going to be in town for long, what could be the harm in a short-term indulgence? He’d be gone before they could get serious. So she surrendered to the building passion, and let herself enjoy the internal heat keeping the cold winter air at bay.

Griffin held her against his chest, and she could hear the steady beats of his heart. “If I don’t get going soon, I’m afraid leaving will be a whole lot more difficult.”

It had been so long since she’d been with a man, and it was way too tempting to completely let loose. She’d never been that sort of woman. Despite her live-and-let-live philosophy, she’d always been cautious in matters of the heart, especially after witnessing several of her mother’s disastrous relationships. “You’re right.” Peeling the blanket off her shoulder, she stood up. “Would you like some lavender bread to go?”

He forked up the rest of his piece and ate it. After he swallowed, he rubbed his flat stomach. “I couldn’t manage another bite tonight, but if it’s okay with you, maybe I could come over tomorrow for seconds?”

Before she could answer, he reeled her in for one last lip-lock. Her legs turned to noodles. Thankfully she was able to lean on Griffin for support. When they parted, she heard herself sigh with pleasure. “Tomorrow then,” she managed.

Taking a step away, he held onto her hand. “Thank you for dinner. It was…incredible.” Fingers still entwined with hers, he backed through the beaded curtain and stepped off the porch. “Good night.”

“Night.”

Finally, they broke contact. She waited there, watching him disappear next door before she went inside. It had been a long day, but she felt as if she could scale a mountain, or float up to the peak. As she cleaned up the dinner dishes, she realized she was humming an old love song. Which was beyond silly.

After she’d fed all the cats, she started toward her bedroom. Her cell phone signaled a missed call. Griffin?

Just the thought of talking to him again made her stomach flutter with anticipation. The call, however, was from her grandmother. Hmm. It was awfully late for her grandma. Hoping everything was all right, she phoned her back.

“Do you miss me yet?” her grandma asked.

“Of course I do.” In truth, though, Griffin had been occupying her thoughts almost since the moment he’d driven away with her grandmother in the passenger seat of his Volvo.

“I don’t believe you, and you just cost me the price of Cousin Etta’s Bingo cards from last night. I bet her that you’d be busy with your handsome young man.”

She bit her lip as she considered what to say to that. “He’s not my young man, Grandma. And besides, no one could ever take your place.”

“If you say so, child.”

“I do.” She definitely didn’t want to discuss her love life with her grandmother. “Are you and Etta having a good time together?”

“We always do,” she said. “You remember that spiritualist community in Florida you were thinking about when you moved to Nocturne Falls?”

“Freedom Moon?”

“That’s it. Etta says they’re expanding it, tripling the size of the place. Her granddaughter’s one of the coven members there. You remember Bree, don’t you? She said they’re looking for people interested in opening metaphysical sorts of businesses. Maybe you could—”

“Thanks, Grandma. But I like it here.”

“I know, I know. Just something to keep in mind for the future.”

She didn’t want to think about anything but the here and now. If she did, she’d certainly ruin her happy mood. For the moment at least, she was enjoying her cozy home and the attention of a guy who definitely wouldn’t be sticking around for long, which made him a lot safer to hang out with.

“I was hoping that you’d use this time while I was away to get to know Griffin better.”

Stevie rolled her eyes. “Oh really?”

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

How’d she know? “Griffin and I are just friends, and it has to stay that way.” Well, mostly.

“Humph. You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“And who’d I inherit that trait from?”

After she and her grandmother said their goodbyes, she got ready for bed, ushering Namaste and Bandit into her bedroom, and turning on the small lamp on her vanity table.

Her head had no sooner hit the pillow when she heard tapping at her window. Sitting up, she teased back the curtain and startled when Griffin waved at her through the glass. She opened the window a few inches and shivered at the brisk midnight air. “What are you doing out there?”

His crooked grin made him even more handsome. “I saw your light on and figured you couldn’t sleep, either.”

Why explain that she always slept with a lamp on?

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His gaze fell to her lips and remained there.

She leaned closer and shut her eyes. Another magical kiss had her practically intoxicated with that champagne bubble high. Desire heated her from the inside out and curled her toes.

When she opened her eyes, they were lying on a soft blanket in a beautiful meadow, surrounded by the sweet smell of wild honeysuckle. Edged in the moonlight, Griffin’s features appeared even more chiseled and masculine.

The realization that this must be a dream didn’t diminish her pleasure one little bit. Quite the contrary. She wanted this, needed it as desperately as air or water. Since it wasn’t really happening, she could relax and indulge.

Griffin lifted off his shirt, and she seized the opportunity to run her hands over the hard planes of his shoulders and sides. He stared down at her and shook his head. “You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Moving over her, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Are you sure?”

What could it hurt to take a lover in her dreams? She answered the question with a kiss.

Hours later, as morning rays of sunshine poked Stevie awake, she peeled open her eyes and glanced around the familiar comforts of her bedroom. Sliding her arm over the mattress, she found it warm, as if someone had recently occupied the spot. Probably just one of the cats.

She threw back the covers and got up, still feeling as if she was walking on air. In the kitchen, she started a pot of coffee and fed the cats.

Movement outside caught her attention. Griffin carried a ladder toward his backyard. She hurriedly poured two cups of coffee then carried them out the back door. “Good morning,” she called to him.

He poked his head over the fence and gave her a smile. “Morning.”

Handing him one of the mugs, her fingers brushed his. She recalled her dream, and a pleasant shiver danced over her skin. “Sleep well?”

Griffin swallowed and dropped her gaze. His ears grew red. “Not really. But it was worth it.” A few beads of perspiration slid down his forehead. Sure, he’d just set down a heavy ladder, but it was a damp, chilly morning. Why was he sweating? He looked into her eyes, and something told her he’d had a similar dream.

He removed his glasses and took a drink of coffee. “Mm, thanks.”

“Sure. When you want to take a break you should come by for that lavender bread.”

His lips flattened. “If now’s convenient, I can fix your kitchen faucet. Then I’d like to inspect your roof. Just to know if it needs any work.” He slipped on his glasses. “Can’t sell a house with a bad roof. Have you noticed any leaks when it rains?”

Reality bitch-slapped her. Why should she care that he was attractive? Or sweet, or anything else? He obviously had only one objective—and that was to kick her out of her house so he could cash out and hightail it back to New York.

She’d read about a serial killer who was handsome, too. Not that Griffin compared to some depraved murderer, or to any criminal. The man had a life, with responsibilities, bills, and who knew what else. And if she were fortunate enough to ever have property willed to her, she’d probably do what he was doing. But that didn’t lessen her resolve to stay. “No leaks,” she said. “Go ahead and inspect away.”

Without waiting for him to respond, she strode toward her back door, went inside, and shut it a little harder than necessary.

No, she had no right to begrudge Griffin his mission, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.

Chapter Six

The hurt in Stevie’s expression ripped through Griffin like an ice pick to his heart. He’d already started to care about her, and he wanted her more than he had any woman in a long time, especially after the dream he’d had about her last night. They’d made love in a field of flowers, under the stars.

But he had to be sensible about this. Just because his tenant was smart and pretty and an amazing cook, didn’t mean he should forgo selling her cottage. He lived almost a thousand miles away from Stevie, and they were as different as night and day. Of course, he felt awful about last night. He should never have allowed his libido to cloud his judgment. Best thing to do now was keep things with Stevie purely businesslike. Bad enough that she was going to have to move because of him. He wouldn’t add insult to injury by getting involved with her and possibly breaking her heart when he inevitably left.

Setting his coffee down on the ground, he was about to position the ladder against Stevie’s house when Bud Weller turned into the driveway. And there was someone in the passenger seat. Griffin hoped it wasn’t the home inspector. Why hadn’t the man called before coming? Irritation prickled the back of his neck.

Weller got out first, followed by a plump blonde in high heels and a red coat. “Sorry, we came unannounced, Griffin. We were in the area and my wife insisted upon seeing the houses. I hope now’s not inconvenient.”

Griffin glanced at Stevie’s door, and his breakfast churned in his stomach. “Actually, I’m in the middle of a few projects at the—”

“Mm-hmm.” Weller cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Charity, this is Griffin, the property owner.”

The woman gave him a tight smile then strode past him toward the porch of his aunt’s house. “Looks a bit small for us, Bud.”

“We haven’t even seen the inside,” he told her. “Maybe Griffin will let us have a look, hmm?” He raised a hopeful eyebrow at Griffin. “As long as we’re all here now.”

Only because the couple had ambushed him. “I was just getting started on something.”

Charity gestured toward Stevie’s cottage. “So that’s where Mama will live?” She crinkled her nose. “First thing we’ll have to do is rip out all those weeds in the yard.”

“They’re not weeds.” Griffin squared his shoulders. “Actually there are lots of medicinal plants growing. The tenant uses them to make teas and other concoctions.”

The older couple exchanged a glance. Finally, Charity said, “Well it looks like a big mess to me.”

Griffin’s jaw automatically tightened. “Best I can offer you is a tour of the other house. You’ll have to make an appointment to view the rental.”

The woman’s frown deepened. “Fine. Let’s see our house. Hopefully, the interior is in better condition than the exterior.”

He took the couple inside but didn’t walk them through. Rather, he waited in the kitchen in order to avoid hearing Mrs. Weller’s constant complaints about the house. When she returned to the kitchen, she hooked her husband’s arm and stage-whispered in Bud’s ear. “The bathrooms are going to cost us a fortune to update, and don’t get me started on everything we’ll need to do to make the kitchen livable.”

Griffin shifted from foot to foot. “I’m a licensed contractor, and I’ve been a code enforcement officer for several years. This house is solid—good bones, structurally sound, water-tight roof.”

A deafening clap of thunder shook the building. Rain pelted the windows as loud as applause in a packed house at Madison Square Garden. And a leak opened up just above Charity Weller. In an instant, she was drenched.

Stepping out from under the water, she shrieked. “Water-tight my sweet patootie!”

Griffin grabbed for the dishtowel at the stove and handed it to her. “That’s got to be new. We had a storm a couple days ago and this didn’t happen.”

Mrs. Weller raised a blond eyebrow at her husband.

Bud cleared his throat. “Our offer will reflect the condition of the roof and the houses in general.”

Griffin rubbed away the beginnings of a headache at the bridge of his nose. He’d personally walked that roof, checked every shingle, and even shored up some old flashing. It wasn’t like him to miss a compromised area.

“Maybe we should take another look, Bud. We went through awfully fast.” Charity strode down the hall to the master bedroom, both men following. “At least this is a decent size, and it has an en-suite bathroom.” She opened the closet door and poked her head inside. “And a nice-size closet.”

The sound of snapping wood shattered the momentary silence, and suddenly the overhead closet shelf gave way. A large cardboard box crashed to the floor, barely missing Charity’s shoulder. The contents—a collection of Aunt Dorothea’s mementos—lay scattered on the closet floor.

Griffin scratched his head. “It’s an easy fix.” He gestured toward the bathroom. “All the fixtures are in great shape. Take a look.”

Charity flipped the light switch before entering but nothing happened. She tried it again, and all the power in the house went out, plunging them into darkness. “This must be quite a storm.”

Indeed, Griffin had never seen it so pitch black during the day. He went to the kitchen to fetch a flashlight. Before he made it to the counter he walked right into a chair, one he’d been sure was somewhere else in the room.

He shook his head and tried to open the drawer. Stuck. Jeez, this just wasn’t his day. He heard the couple enter the room, but he could barely make them out in the darkness. Grasping the handle more firmly, he gave it a hard yank. When it opened, a puff of smoke came out of it.

Charity gasped and coughed. “What in the world?”

“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” he murmured. “Perhaps the fire extinguisher under the sink malfunctioned.”

Bud turned on the light on his phone and aimed it at the drawer. The smoke was pink, of all colors.

Griffin ushered them out of the kitchen, afraid the smoky air could be dangerous. Once they were in the living room, he lit a candle and drew a relieved breath. But when he glimpsed tendrils of pink smoke creeping out from under the coat closet door, his worry returned.

Bud leveled a concerned stare at him. “Issues are piling up here, son.”

“Must be a faulty wire somewhere,” Griffin ventured as he pulled open the closet door. Only a faint earthy smell remained, kind of herbal. And familiar. But he couldn’t place it, so he didn’t even try to remember. He had way more pressing mysteries to figure out.

“If an outage in the area caused a power surge, that might have…ignited a frayed section of wire.” Quite a stretch, but there had to be some rational reason for all the sudden problems. “The lightning could have sparked something.” He pulled back the window curtains, expecting storm clouds, or at least the aftermath of a deluge. Instead, bright sunshine filled the sky, and not a wet sidewalk, tree or blade of grass could be found.

What the heck?

They hadn’t all imagined the storm. “That’s odd.” He blew out the candle.

“We need to discuss this, Bud, privately,” Charity told her husband. “Something’s fishy. I’d like to go. Now.”

He nodded. “We’ll be in touch, Griffin,” Bud told him as they headed to the door.

Had the strange incidents frightened off the couple for good? Strange, or magic.

Far back as he could remember, his dad had always assured him that every weird occurrence in the world had an explanation. Events that appeared to be supernatural could always be explained through research.

“Absolutely everything has a rational explanation if you look hard enough,” his father had told him as they’d watched a meteor shower when Griffin was six or seven years old.

“Mom told me that shooting stars are good luck,” Griffin had responded. “She said if I made a wish on one, it would come true.”

His dad grasped Griffin’s shoulders. “That’s nonsense, you hear me? Shooting stars aren’t stars at all. What you’re seeing is bits of dust and rock. Nothing more. There’s no such thing as luck, good or bad. Your mother told you lies. Another reason we’re better off without her in our life.”

Maybe his dad was right. After all, how many times had Griffin wished that his mother would return home? He’d wished every time he’d blown out his birthday candles, and each time he’d found an eyelash. Yet she never came back. “Is that why she had to go to prison because she lied?”

His father released him and straightened to his full height. “Not exactly. She broke some rules, and that’s how we punish people for bad behavior.”

The buzz of his cell was a welcome interruption to his memories. Checking the display, he found the name of the real estate agent who was handling the purchase of his house in New York. He cleared his throat before answering. “Hello, John. What’s up?”

“We’ve got a bit of a glitch.”

Griffin sat on Aunt Dorothea’s recliner chair. “What kind of glitch?”

The agent heaved a sigh. “The sellers have a backup offer. And it’s higher than yours. What that means is that if any little thing goes wrong on your end, well…the sellers will back out of your deal to take the higher one.”

“What?” he balked. “But I’ve got a signed contract. How can they do that?”

“Calm down. As long as your financing comes through, and you can show that you’ve got the full amount of the down payment, it’ll all be fine.”

Griffin swallowed hard. “I don’t have the money yet, but as soon as I sell these houses here, I will.”

“I sure hope you’ve got a buyer ready to go.”

He glanced out the window at the vacant spot where Bud Weller’s car had been a few minutes before. “I will.” He had to.

After her four pm meditation class, Stevie headed out back, opened the door to the cat area, and was instantaneously surrounded by meowing kitties. “Yes, my loves, it’s time for dinner.” Her feline entourage followed, and a few of them raced in front of her, zigzagging ahead, no doubt making sure she was indeed going the right way.

But when she opened the food bin, all she found was a few lonely nuggets of cat food. Where had the huge sack that Asa brought gone?

The cats’ meows grew louder and more urgent.

“I promise I’m working on it, guys.” She had to step over them to escape the hoard. Grabbing a bag of the food she kept in her pantry for her own cats, she tried to figure out what could have happened to all of that kibble. If a raccoon or some other animal had broken into the enclosure, surely they’d have left some evidence.

As soon as she’d filled the bowls in the lanai with the replacement cat food, she walked the perimeter in search of some breach in the screening, a hole or tunnel under the structure. She was about to retrace her steps when something crunched under her Nikes. Crouching down to get a better look, she gasped at what was apparently a trail of kibble. And it led toward the backyard of Mrs. Percival’s old house.

She followed the path to the shed next door—the same building Griffin had been in and out of time and time again over the past few days.

Who would steal her cats’ food? Griffin? Was he purposely trying to make her angry?

First, he gave her the cold shoulder, and now this. Her jaw automatically clenched. Didn’t help that she hadn’t eaten anything all day, but after Griffin’s rejection, her usually robust appetite had withered. She placed one hand on her chest, and the other on her belly. Drawing a deep breath, she counted to six, then exhaled to the same beat. The Pranayama almost always did the trick to calm her down, but after repeating the technique four more times, her irritation still simmered. She marched around the house in search of Griffin and found him kneeling on the lawn, under the laurel oak, planting flowers around the base of the tree.

Shading his eyes from the sun, he looked up at her and gave her a curt smile. “Hey, how’s your day going?”

She was in no mood for pleasantries. “Did you steal my cat food?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Getting to his feet, he brushed off his gardening gloves and took them off. “Why would I do that?”

“Perhaps you…I don’t know.” But what reason could he have? Why would anyone else do such a thing? She tugged on one of her braids. “I wonder if magic is at play,” she murmured. Then realizing she’d spoken aloud, she bit her bottom lip. Maybe he hadn’t heard.

Griffin let out a laugh. “Magic, huh?” He rolled his eyes.

Hunger growled in the pit of her stomach. “You shouldn’t be so quick to judge things you don’t understand.”

Out of nowhere, a blinding flash of lightning exploded above them. Stars swam before her eyes, and she swooned, suddenly lightheaded. She started to fall and reached out for something to steady her.

Strong arms encircled her waist, but it wasn’t enough to keep the dizziness at bay.

Everything went black.

rang outrand

Griffin’s heart thundered in his ribs as he raced to his porch carrying Stevie. Had she been zapped by that rogue lightning strike?

She shivered in his arms. “What are you doing?” Her voice was raspy and weak but she appeared otherwise fine.

Setting her on the porch swing, he let out the breath he’d been holding. “Thank goodness you’re okay. You passed out. I wasn’t sure if you’d been struck by the lightning.”

Glancing around, she scrunched her forehead for a moment. “That was pretty bizarre, huh? It’s a gorgeous, sunny day.”

“Lots of strange occurrences today,” he said. When she rubbed her arms, he noticed goose bumps on her skin. “I should apologize for my behavior before. I…had a headache. I shouldn’t have taken out my foul mood on you.” The half-truth made him feel almost as guilty as he had when he’d given her the cold shoulder a little while ago. It wasn’t her fault that he’d had a racy dream about her, one that made him want her even more. Nor could she help it that their attraction wasn’t practical or ethical, considering that he was her landlord.

He tipped his chin toward his house. “Let’s go inside and warm up. Aunt Dorothea kept a stash of all kinds of teas, as well as a big bottle of sherry.” He gestured for her to go in ahead of him. “Pick your poison.”

“Tea’s fine.”

He strode in after her and nearly crashed into the sofa. “What the…?” The sofa, the chairs, the coffee table, everything in the room was in a different spot than it had been half an hour ago. His head started pounding. Rubbing his temples, he sat in his aunt’s recliner.

“Are you all right?” Stevie asked.

“I don’t know. Someone’s rearranged all the furniture in here. Maybe I’m going crazy.”

Stevie sat on the couch. “Perhaps you’re the one who needs that sherry.”

Remembering that she’d fainted a few minutes earlier, he slapped a hand to his forehead. “God, I’m sorry. I should be taking care of you, not vice-versa. I’ll go make you a cup of tea.”

“I’m okay, really. I think I was just hungry.” She closed her eyes then stretched her arms over her head. Gradually lowering them, she inhaled deeply. “I’m wondering if there’s a specter here. The energy feels kind of intense.”

“A specter? Like a ghost?” Maybe the house was haunted. He dared not agree with a woman who believed in all kinds of magic, at least not aloud. A week ago, he would’ve written off the notion as complete hogwash. But there were too many weird occurrences that defied explanation. But if it was true, and there were paranormal hijinks afoot, it meant that everything Griffin had always believed about the world was wrong. Heck, his mother really could have supernatural abilities. No, there had to be some rational reason for the day’s crazy events.

Stevie shuddered. “My magical radar is picking up something of a supernatural nature.”

What if she was right? They could be in danger there. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. He wasted no time getting her out of the house. “Come on. I have an idea. But first, why don’t you grab a warm jacket from next door? We need to get you something to eat.”

“O-okay. Why not?”

After Stevie had put on a heavy sweater, he drove them the short distance to the downtown business district and parked on a side street. “If you’re correct about there being some…strange energy at Aunt Dorothea’s house, I thought it best for us to get away from there, go somewhere we could speak without…” He grappled for the right words—a way to convey his confidence in the rational world that he’d always known. “A neutral venue. My new favorite bakery is around the corner. Let’s grab something sinfully fattening. Your grandmother turned me on to their honey-bourbon truffles.”

She widened her eyes. “My grandmother? She’s not supposed to be eating sugar-laden pastries. She’s flirting with diabetes.”

Oops. Cledith would have a major tongue-lashing for him when she found out that he’d ratted her out. He circled his car and helped Stevie get out, holding onto her hand several seconds longer than necessary. When their eyes met, heat ricocheted between them, until he forced himself to drop her gaze.

At Delaney’s Delectibles, they each picked out a cupcake and took them to go, along with a water bottle for each of them. Walking past the alley, a slim blonde with pointy ears passed them going the opposite direction. She nodded politely to them, and Griffin noticed that her eyes were the most unusual shade of aqua. No—not just unusual—unnatural. He stopped walking and glanced over his shoulder as she disappeared into a jewelry store.

“What is it?” Stevie asked.

Gesturing across the street to the bench alongside the park, he took her hand again and led her to the crosswalk. “Let’s sit there and eat.”After the light changed, he took her across. The instant they sat down, Stevie bit into her cupcake, and moaned. The erotic sound snatched Griffin’s breath away. He took a second to compose himself before tasting his own.

“Why were you staring at Willa?” she asked.

“Who?”

“The lady who went into the jewelry store,” she explained. “She owns it. And she’s engaged to one of my neighbors, huge guy who looks like a linebacker.”

He took a swallow of his water. “There was something strange about her eyes, about her. And those pointy ears couldn’t have been prosthetic.” Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he thought about all the weird things he’d seen since arriving in Nocturne Falls. “She isn’t the only one. I’ve noticed many people here who aren’t quite…normal.”

Stevie’s throat twitched with a swallow. “Oh?”

She wasn’t telling him something, he was sure of it. “Come on,” he said. “What’s going on here? I just saw a guy with fangs across the street, and there are icicles hanging from Santa’s Workshop even though the temperature is in the fifties. Those are real icicles, trust me.”

Taking another bite of her cupcake, Stevie met his stare. “It’s all smoke and mirrors. You know, just a show for the tourists.” She tipped her chin at his water bottle. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

“No, I’m not.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I think that maybe…”

“What?” Setting a gentle hand on his knee, she slid closer.

He shook his head. “I’ve never once doubted my sanity, but now, this odd town…I don’t know. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. I’ve seen a gargoyle move, pink smoke come out of nowhere inside my house, and maybe even a ghost. How else would I explain those things?”

“A ghost?”

“Yeah, yesterday. Could have been a very unusual shadow. I don’t know.” He tossed the remnants of his cupcake into the trashcan. “Maybe I should get the heck out of this place, go back to New York and find a really good shrink.”

Stevie took his hand. “I have to tell you something, Griffin. It might be hard to believe, but it’s the truth. And it’ll answer all your questions about Nocturne Falls.”

Chapter Seven

There could only be one explanation for the fact that the Nocturne Falls water wasn’t working for Griffin. He had to be at least part supernatural himself. Stevie cleared her throat. “Do you have any relatives who are…special?”

His brow creased. “Special how?”

She shifted on the bench. “Well, I’m a witch.”

Muscles around his jaw ticked, which was the same reaction he had every time she mentioned anything to do with the occult. “I’ve read that some people consider themselves witches, sort of like a religion. Is that what you mean?”

“Some witches don’t have magic. Those like me…some of us possess certain gifts, or powers.”

He nodded slowly. “Like when you blew up that cat hair tornado?”

So the water really didn’t work on him. “I didn’t do that, but it did happen.”

“At the time I brushed it off, assuming I’d imagined that someone or something had—what’d you call it—manipulated energy. I’ve been thinking about that night and everything that’s happened since. So either I’m losing my mind, or there really is such a thing as magic.”

Her heart pounded. “There is. But those who aren’t supernatural aren’t supposed to see any of that—if they drink the local water, which is from the falls.”

His brow furrowed. “What are you saying?”

“That somewhere in your gene pool, there must be magic. That would be the only reason the water doesn’t work for you.”

He backed away, and new lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. “Could it be?”

“Watch.” She turned up her palms and concentrated on the very first spell her grandmother had taught her. Envisioning a sphere of energy, she manifested it. A swirling, shimmering orb appeared there, hovering just above her hands.

Griffin gasped. “My God.”

“Do you want to hold it?”

His eyes widened. “How?”

“Just believe.”

He tentatively reached out for the ball, and she passed it to him. If Griffin possessed no magic, he might have felt the energy, but he wouldn’t have seen it. After a moment, she heard footsteps nearby, so she let the energy go. The sphere shrank to a spark then disappeared completely.

“Holy cow,” he said. “I wouldn’t have believed that if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

She nodded, thinking about the day so many years ago when her grandmother had done the same demonstration for her. “I was very young when my grandmother realized that I’d inherited her gift.”

“What about the rest of your family?”

His question poked at the emotional wounds that she tried so hard to keep from opening. “My father—her son—he doesn’t have any magic, nor did Grandma’s sister. But her mother did, and so does her cousin, Etta.” No need to mention her brother. Simon’s only gift was making those who loved him believe that he’d changed, that he’d gotten the drug monkey off his back when he hadn’t. She tamped down the sadness so she could continue. “One of your ancestors might have passed down some supernatural power to you. That’d be the only way you’d be immune to the effects of the Nocturne Falls water.”

A cloud passed over his features. “Hmm.”

She sensed there was something he wasn’t saying. “What?”

His lips flattened into a thin line. “My dad always told me that my mother had professed to be a witch, but he said it was all hogwash, that there was no such thing. That’s what I’ve always believed. Until today.”

“Can you ask her?”

The furrow of his brow deepened.

Hadn’t he once mentioned something about his mother? Darn, obviously that was a sore spot for him. She grasped his lower arm. “Sorry. Is she…gone?”

His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. “No, but we’re not in contact.”

Her chest squeezed. “I know it’s none of my business, but if I were you, I’d do everything in my power to make things right. I’ll never have that choice with my mother, but I hope that someday, I’ll find my brother Simon, and apologize for not being there for him when he needed me.”

He stiffened and sat up taller. “It’s not that simple with my mother.”

“It never is. I was taken away from my mother, and I was compelled to leave Charleston when my ex-boyfriend tried to hurt me. I had no idea that Simon would fall back into his old ways and start doing meth again, but I abandoned him. Without me there to make sure he went to his meetings, he fell off the wagon. Perhaps someday he’ll come back. But my mother’s gone forever, and I’d give anything to be able to talk to her one more time.”

Griffin squeezed her shoulder. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for your brother’s issues. You didn’t abandon him.”

But she had. “Simon is why I first started taking in stray cats. And why the thought of leaving them is so painful.”

“I get that, Stevie, I really do.” He hung his head. “I’ve never owned a home, and until recently, I didn’t think I’d ever find one I wanted to buy. In my job, I see all the things that can go wrong in houses, from electrical to plumbing to structural problems. Then I lucked into the most perfect little brownstone in Brooklyn. The money I’ll get from the sale of the properties here will cover my down payment, and hopefully a little for improvements.”

She tried to find the words to talk him out of his dream, but couldn’t bring herself to do that.

“When I was growing up, my dad moved us at least every year or two,” he said. “He always attributed the change to his work, although I suspected he was afraid my mom would find us. After I married my ex-wife, I was sure at least then I’d found some permanence. That wasn’t meant to be, though.”

The cupcake in her stomach turned to lead.

Silence stretched between them for a long moment. Finally, Griffin spoke. “Maybe my mother is a witch. If I’d inherited something like that, wouldn’t I know it?”

“Not necessarily. Particularly if your father squelched that in you. I’m sure we can figure it out.”

Clasping his hands, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. “I’m not sure I’m ready to delve into that right now.” He stood up. “Ready to head back?”

Shrugging, she crinkled up her napkin and stuffed it into the bag. Then she tossed it into the trash and strode with him to the Volvo. “Mind if we stop at the Shop-n-Save? I need cat food.”

“No problem.” He drove them to the supermarket and insisted on buying the largest sack they had in stock.

After a short, mostly silent drive home, Griffin hit the remote to raise his garage door. He parked and turned off the motor.

As he opened the passenger door for her, Stevie looked up at him. “You know, I understand why you want to sell my house.” She climbed out, taking the moment to tamp down her emotions. “I won’t stand in your way.”

He nodded soberly, and they started out of the garage. Until the loudest boom she’d ever heard exploded overhead. The garage door crashed down an instant before they’d have walked under it.

Stevie screamed, her heart lodged in her throat.

Griffin shoved her toward the wall just as the huge cable that had kept the door suspended swung past them. “You okay?”

Nodding, she blew out a breath. “Fine, you?”

He lifted the door to let them out. “Actually, I’m starting to wonder if someone’s trying to hurt one of us.”

There was definitely some supernatural energy in the vicinity, but in Nocturne Falls, that could be coming from nearly any home or business. “A lot of these weird things are happening in or around your house, right?”

“Mm-hmm. You have an idea what it is?”

She bit her bottom lip. “You said before that you thought you saw a ghost inside. What did it look like?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure. It was more shadow than form. In fact, at the time I figured that was all it was—a strange shadow.”

“I doubt that. Would it be okay if I shore up the magical protection around the house?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea what that entails, but as long as there’s no tail of puppy dog, I’m okay with it.”

With a chuckle, she nodded. “I promise there’ll be no puppies involved. However, I will need sea salt and white sage, both of which I’ve got at my house.”

A little while later, she’d saged the perimeter of both houses, and ringed each one with salt and then with water.

Griffin met her on her front porch. “I’ve checked the locks on all the doors and windows on both houses.”

“Can’t hurt,” she told him. Noticing the backpack slung over his left shoulder, she tipped her chin at it. “What’s that for?”

“Hear me out before answering.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “All right.”

“Even though we’ve both made sure we’re as safe as possible, we have no idea if it’s enough. True?”

“Okay, that’s true.”

“You’re all by yourself here. As a former Eagle Scout, I can’t possibly allow you to stay alone tonight. It might not be safe.”

Those silly butterflies flitted around in her stomach. “I appreciate the gesture, but—”

“But nothing. If that notion offends your feminist soul, then just think of it as mutual protection. Safety in numbers, right?”

Much as the idea of having a sleepover with Griffin spoke to her libido, he’d already rejected her once. Why subject herself to another round of letdown? “I have a phone, and by the way, I have some pretty awesome magical powers.”

He shook his head. “All I’m suggesting is that you let me spend the night on your sofa. Scout’s honor. My motives are pure.”

Her heart sank a little. “Of course the sofa. Where else?”

“So you’re good with that?”

“Just for tonight. We’ll have to come up with a better plan tomorrow. Grandma’s cousin Etta’s granddaughter is a medium down in Florida. I doubt that Bree would come up here, but she could have some advice for us. Or maybe some of my friends from the coven can help figure out what’s going on.”

“The coven?” He shook his head. “Of course there’s a coven. There are witches here.”

She smiled. “Glad you’re finally coming around to that truth.” Turning to go inside, she glanced over her shoulder at him. “We’re everywhere, you know. Even in Brooklyn.”

Griffin leaned back in the deck chair behind Stevie’s cottage and rubbed his belly. “That was a great dinner.”

Stevie grinned. “Even if you do say so yourself.”

He zipped up his hoodie. “I had no idea that it would be so easy to change my world famous quesadilla recipe into a vegetarian dish.”

Stevie stoked the logs in the firepit, and the flames grew. “So much of being a vegetarian is just reimagining your favorite foods. By replacing the beef with mushrooms and broccoli, we upped the fiber and nutrients while lowering the overall calories.”

Skimming his gaze over her trim figure, he smirked. “You don’t look like someone who needs to count your calories.” He couldn’t imagine how she could be in better shape.

Or any sexier.

He forced his thoughts off that dangerous path and got up to move closer to the fire. “Should we make s’mores and tell ghost stories?”

She gave him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. “Um, considering that we might be living in our very own ghost story, do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I guess not.”

Standing, she shut her eyes and stretched, giving him another opportunity to admire her long neck, sleek, muscular torso, and those fantastic legs. He’d never been particularly fond of yoga wear, but on Stevie, even drawstring pants, a simple T-shirt, and a zippered jersey jacket looked great. She picked up her empty wine glass and headed for the back door. “Coming inside?”

“Yeah, sure.” He followed her into the kitchen, and together they cleaned up the dinner dishes. Hanging the kitchen towel over the oven handle, he realized how relaxed he felt, more comfortable than he’d been since he’d arrived in Georgia. But he couldn’t get too cozy here. Soon enough he’d be heading back home to New York.

The reminder that sooner or later, he’d have to leave, hit him like a slap of icy morning air. How had he grown so fond of Stevie in only a week? Didn’t matter, though. His whole life was back in New York—his job, his soon-to-be house, his friends.

Stevie lit several candles in the living room. “I don’t know about you, but I need a meditation. I’ve gone two days without it, and that’s not good for my state of mind.”

He went into the room after her. “Should I leave while you do?”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “You could join me.”

Backing up, he shook his head. “I’ve never done that. Sounds kind of new agey.”

“Meditation is hardly new. It’s been around for a very long time, and the reason for that is all the benefits. Like increasing self-awareness, reducing stress, and improving concentration.” She set two oversized pillows on the floor, sat on one, and patted the other. “We can do a guided meditation. Just listen and do what the woman says, okay?”

Although he doubted that any of those things would happen for him, he played along and sat akimbo on the pillow.

“Back straight.” She monkeyed with her phone. “And you can close your eyes if you want.”

“Take a deep breath to the count of four,” a smooth female voice instructed from a Bluetooth speaker a few yards away from them. “Hold it to the count of four then let it out slowly.”

Griffin removed his glasses and did his best to get into the moment. To his surprise, he soon found himself completely relaxed as he walked along a forest path. He couldn’t even feel his body, as if he was no longer inhabiting the space, but rather floating above it.

The voice guided him into the most deeply relaxing state he’d ever experienced. Even after the meditation was over, he felt all tingly, yet incredibly serene. He was vaguely aware of Stevie getting up to leave the room.

Setting a pile of bedding on the sofa, she asked, “What’d you think?”

He helped her make up his temporary bed. “It was better than I thought it’d be. Not hokey at all.”

Stevie tucked a blanket over the sheets. “I’m so glad you don’t find my chosen career to be all about nonsense.”

Whoops. “Sorry, that was insensitive of me. What I should have said was that I was pleasantly surprised by how powerful I found the experience.”

“Better.” She handed him the TV remote. “If you’re like my grandmother, who apparently can’t get through the night without television, go for it.”

Everything in him yearned to take her in his arms, and give her a passionate kiss, one she’d never forget. But he couldn’t give in to those urges, so he merely waved and said goodnight as she disappeared down the hallway.

A few minutes after he’d stretched out on the sofa, something sharp jabbed his thigh. He threw back the covers and discovered that the top of a coil had poked through the cushion. That definitely hadn’t been there when they’d made up the couch a little while ago. He relocated to a wingback chair and pushed an ottoman to it for his feet. Then he turned on the television and found a western series on cable. Just as he was getting comfortable, his aunt’s old cat climbed up onto his lap. Didn’t take but a minute for his nose to start running.

Cursing under his brath, he shut off the TV and went down the hall to the bathroom. He wasn’t actually tired at all. Well, maybe a little. Only he didn’t want to fall asleep and find himself in the throes of another passionate dream starring none other than his beautiful hostess.

On his way back to the living room, he noticed light spilling out from under Stevie’s ajar door. He stopped and listened. Only silence greeted him. Leaning his head against the jamb, he wondered if she was still awake.

He thought about his dream the night before, about Stevie in a skimpy purple negligee. He closed his eyes and he was kissing her, touching and tasting every gorgeous inch of her. Her skin felt smooth as the finest silk. She hooked her ankle around his calf, rubbing it up and down.

Suddenly her door inched open. Frozen in shame, he held his breath. Until one of the cats walked out and meowed an admonishment at him before it disappeared down the hall.

From inside the room, he heard Stevie’s soft purr and the creak of her bedsprings. Unable to stop himself, he peeked through the door. There she was, sheets wrapped around one leg, clutching her pillow. And wearing that very same purple nightgown from his dream. How was that possible?

She stirred, let out a quiet moan. Feeling a lot like a voyeur, Griffin eased away from the gap and started back to the living room. Seconds after he’d walked away, her door opened.

“Oh, hey.” Standing in the shadows, hair slightly messy, with that slinky gown clinging to her curves, she took his breath away.

Afraid his voice would fail him, he coughed. “I hope I didn’t wake you on my way to the bathroom.”

“Nope, my dream did.” She tucked a stray braid behind her ear.

“I thought that maybe you were awake.”

Her brow knotted in confusion.

“Your light was on,” he clarified.

Her shoulders sank, and her expression grew sad. “I got in the habit of leaving it on after my brother went missing. Something inside me still hopes that he’ll come back, which is crazy since he never lived anywhere but Charleston.”

His chest constricted.

She hugged her arms around her body. “Actually, I was sleeping with a lamp on before Simon left. I’m…afraid of the dark.” Shaking her head, she leaned against the wall. “Want some tea?”

Not particularly, but he sensed she needed to talk. “Sure.”

In the kitchen, she filled an old-fashioned kettle and set it to boil on the stove.

Griffin sat at the table. “Isn’t midnight the official witching hour?”

His attempt at levity earned him a shortlived smile.

“For some spells it is.” She took out two mugs and put what looked like homemade tea bags in each one. “But the reason for my fear has nothing to do with magic.”

He waited for her to go on, dreading whatever it was she’d say.

After several moments, she continued. “When we lived with my mom after our father had left, she had this man who’d come to the house. He might have been her boyfriend or just her dealer. I was never sure. Simon and I were scared to death of him because he yelled at Mama a lot. He shoved us around and threatened to take us to the Battery—the waterfront park in Charleston—and toss us into the harbor.”

Griffin’s stomach turned at the thought of a grown man bullying innocent kids that way.

The kettle whistled, and Stevie filled their mugs then handed one to him. “Mama finally worked up the nerve to tell him to get lost. But that just made him angrier. Next time he came around she told us to hide in the crawlspace under the stairs. She locked us in there and told us to be quiet no matter what we heard.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “We hid in there for hours. Even after all the shouting stopped after Mama’s screams finally ended.”

He wished he could hold her, comfort her, but something about the way she was sitting—so stiff and unyielding—convinced him that wasn’t what she wanted.

“It was so dark in there. Spiders and other bugs crawled on me. I might have imagined that part, but it felt pretty real at the time.” She shuddered. “I could never handle being in the dark since, and confined spaces make my skin crawl.”

“When did your mother let you out?”

Wrapping her fingers around her mug, she exhaled deeply. “She didn’t. A social worker did. When a neighbor called the cops because of the noise, they arrested Mama for child endangerment. She overdosed shortly after she got out of jail. Simon and I ended up in foster care until our grandparents were able to get custody of us a few months later.”

A chill rolled over his skin. “What about your father?”

Her brow furrowed. “He was never in the picture much. Even when Grandma told him that Mama had lost custody of us, he refused to step up. According to my grandmother, he was the one who first introduced our mother to drugs. Runs in the family I guess.”

Reaching across the table, he took her hand. “I’m sorry, Stevie. Sounds as if your childhood was a lot worse than mine. My mother wasn’t in my life, either. Dad wasn’t easy to live with, and all the moving around got really old, but at least he was there for me.”

She eased her hand out from under his. “Too bad you didn’t get to know your great aunt. She was quite a lady. I miss her.”

A thought occurred to him. “I can’t believe I’m thinking this, let alone giving it voice, but I wonder if Aunt Dorothea’s spirit is still in her house. Maybe she wants me to leave.”

Stevie immediately shook her head. “Doesn’t make sense. Why would she have left the property to you if she didn’t want you there?”

He couldn’t answer that, but he knew one thing for sure. Whatever was going on didn’t have one of those rational explanations that his father was so fond of. Until they knew the cause, neither he nor Stevie was safe.

Chapter Eight

Stevie yawned as she poured herself a cup of coffee. Another super-steamy and very vivid dream had kept her awake until the wee hours. For the second night in a row she’d dreamed that she’d made love with Griffin, and in the morning her body felt stretched and just a little sore in all the right places. Strange.

The ring of her doorbell jarred her out of her thoughts. Could Griffin be back already from the DIY Depot? He’d only left twenty minutes ago.

She headed to the living room and opened the door to a short, balding, middle-aged man.

“Bud Weller.” He shook hands with her. “I hope it’s all right that I came unannounced. I’ve been dealing with Griffin Dunlap, hoping to purchase this house. Mind if I come inside?”

“Well—”

Before she could answer, he barged in and started examining the place as if he already owned it. “I promise I won’t take much of your time. Please forgive the intrusion, but time is of the essence.”

Really? Would he throw her out as soon as he bought the place? Her temples pounded. She couldn’t kick the guy out, though. What if he got angry and decided not to buy the houses? She couldn’t rob Griffin of his dream, especially knowing how important it was to him to have the stability of his own home.

Namaste ran in front of the man, nearly tripping him.

“Uh oh.” He chuckled. “A black cat just crossed my path. Sure hope that doesn’t mean bad luck for me.” No sooner had the words left his lips when he tripped, falling into the wingback chair.

Stevie rushed over. “Are you all right?”

Standing, he waved off her concern. “Sure, yeah.” He stopped at the altar and frowned.

Stevie held her breath, waiting for him to make a derogatory comment about witchcraft, but instead, he touched the mirror hanging on the wall.

“There’s a spot here.” He scratched at it, and suddenly the mirror fell off the wall, shattering into a hundred shards. “Oh, my. I’m so sorry.” Bending to pick up some of the fragments, he shrieked. “Ouch. Damn thing cut me.”

“Leave it, please. I’ll get it.” She hurried from the room to fetch a broom and dustpan. The sound of another crash and more glass breaking made her cringe. What now? Racing toward Mr. Weller’s groans, she found him in the hallway, leaning against her bedroom door. The ceiling light fixture lay in pieces on the floor.

“What is wrong with these properties?” he asked. “No wonder Dunlap wants to unload them.”

“No, it’s not like that. Griffin’s an honest guy.” Wait, what was she doing? She shouldn’t encourage Mr. Weller to buy her cottage. She was so torn between her own needs and Griffin’s.

“Hello? Stevie?”

At the familiar sound of Griffin’s voice, she went to her door.

“It was open,” he said as he came toward her. “Everything okay?”

“Um, yeah. I guess so.” She glanced over her shoulder as Bud Weller approached.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” the older man said as he passed her and strode to the door.

“Mr. Weller.” Griffin’s glasses slid halfway down his nose. He gave Stevie an apologetic shrug.

“I wanted to at least see this house before I made my final decision.” Weller shrugged. “We discussed it after we left here yesterday. I talked Charity into giving it another chance. But after seeing this one, well, there’s just too much going on here, paranormally speaking.”

“Would you at least think about it?” Griffin asked.

Brushing past Griffin and out the door, he mumbled something Stevie didn’t catch. Seconds later, she heard him drive off.

“I’m sorry,” she told Griffin.

“What happened?”

After explaining about the freaky mishaps, she shrugged. “It was so weird. Maybe a spirit is trying to sabotage the sale. My second cousin is a medium. Remember I told you about her? I can call her and see what she thinks.”

His shoulders sank. “I guess. Whatever you think. Need some help cleaning up?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

He nodded. “I’ll go back to the DIY Depot later and pick up a new light fixture, and a replacement mirror.”

Stevie’s insides twisted at Griffin’s dejected expression.

Griffin hung his head. “I’ll be next door,” he said. “The well needs to be fixed, and I’ve got the supplies already out there.”

She ought to be relieved that the investor was backing out of the deal, but she couldn’t muster anything except compassion for Griffin.

This was no victory for her, merely a stay of execution.

Griffin stared down into the well and frowned. The submersible pump appeared at least thirty years old, which was about a decade longer than they usually lasted. He hated to get into a big, dirty job like this, but with the investor all but certain to back out of the deal, Griffin didn’t have much choice. He started digging to widen the hole enough to remove the old pump. Half an hour into the job, his cell buzzed. Taking advantage of the opportunity for a break, he pushed his shovel into the dirt and wiped his hands on his jeans. His phone displayed Better Bedding Depot. Could Weller have changed his mind again?

Offering up a silent prayer, he answered. “Good afternoon, Mr. Weller.”

“Afternoon.” The man cleared his throat. “Listen, Griffin, I’m hoping we might still be able to salvage this deal. My mother-in-law is driving me nuts. I was thinking that if you had the houses exorcised or whatever, and lowered the price a little, my wife might be persuaded to go ahead with the purchase.”

“I’m listening.” Heart pounding, he walked around the house to the front porch and sat on the swing.

“Of course there are the obvious repairs, which you’re already working on. It’s clear that there’s some sort of paranormal activity at play there.”

Griffin remained silent.

“As often as I swear that my mother-in-law is a witch, she doesn’t actually have those powers.” He laughed at his own joke. “Charity knows a woman who knows a woman who’s supposed to be some big-time medium over in Atlanta. Lady’s got her own cable TV show, so she must be good. Charity contacted her. She charges ten thousand bucks to psychically cleanse a house. Maybe she’ll give us a volume discount on the two properties.”

Griffin rubbed his chin as he mentally calculated what he’d net if Weller lowered his offer by twenty thousand. He could still walk away with enough for his down payment, just not the extra he’d been hoping for to fix up the Brooklyn house. “Would you agree to—”

Stevie’s piercing scream cut through the afternoon like a knife to his gut. Dropping his phone, he raced toward the backyard in search of her.

He found her crouched on the ground by the well, reaching her arm into the hole. Looking up at him, she cried, “Help! The kitten must have fallen in. It can’t get out.”

His heart lodged in his throat at Stevie’s tear-stained cheeks, and the desperation in her voice. “I-I should have covered it,” he said. “I got distracted by a call. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t care,” she shouted. “We’ve got to get the cat out of there.”

Damn it. He knew better than to walk away from an open hole. If he’d run across that in his job, he’d have cited the culprit. “Let me see if I can get it out of there.” He reached his arm as deep as he could, but not far enough to grab the kitten. “I’ll call the fire department.”

She tossed her phone at him. “Call Aiden first. The cat’s got blood on her fur. Aiden’s a healer. You’ll find him in my contacts.” A shiver racked her body. “I might be able to get her out.”

Slim as she was, she was probably correct. It would be a tight squeeze, but the quickest way to reach the animal.

As Griffin phoned Aiden, Stevie inched closer to the hole and peered down it. “I-I’m not sure I can do this.”

He relayed the message to the healer then quickly got off the phone. Remembering what she’d told him about her fear of dark, enclosed spaces, he touched the small of her back. “I’m right here, Stevie. I’ll get you out of there as soon as you say the word.”

Tiny mews echoed from the well.

Terror flashed in Stevie’s eyes, yet she sat up and squared her shoulders. “I think she’s injured. Maybe she was running from a predator and fell down there.” Beads of sweat slid down the side of her face. “I can’t do this.”

“You can.”

She gulped in a breath and nodded. “I have to.” As Stevie crawled into the hole head first, he held her feet. “She’s definitely injured.”

Another meow.

“Close your eyes and imagine a white, protective light surrounding the kitten,” she called out to him.

He did as she asked.

“Bast of grace and beauty, protectress of all animals, shield this cat from all harm and hurt. Keep it well through day and night. So mote it be.”

In his mind’s eye, he saw the feline, and Stevie’s fingers reaching for it, so close. He concentrated on keeping the circle of light around the animal, and also around Stevie, because this had to be difficult for her.

“I can’t get her. She’s too far down.”

“I’m going to lower you a little farther.”

“I’m scared, Griffin.”

“I’m right here. I’ve got you. I promise.” Tightening his grip on her ankles, he eased her down a few inches more.

“It’s not enough,” she cried.

Bracing himself on the ground, he lowered her a couple more inches.

“I’ve got her!”

Pulling on Stevie’s legs, he managed to get her out. The tiny ball of white hissed in her hands, but as soon as Stevie held the cat against her chest, it started purring.

“She’s definitely been attacked by another animal.”

“Hey there,” a man called to them. “You got it out, huh?”

A tall, brown-haired guy headed toward them. “I’m Aiden,” he told Griffin.

“Thanks for coming,” Griffin said.

“Looks like she was mauled.” Stevie handed the kitten to Aiden, who quickly examined it before sitting on the ground with it.

Aiden shut his eyes and murmured a chant in another language. “Hey, hey, oh wah hey. Hey, hey, oh wah hey.” Then he rocked the animal in his arms for several minutes. When he finally set the kitten down, the cuts Griffin had seen a few minutes before on the cat’s side were gone.

“How’d you do that?” he asked Aiden.

Stevie picked up the cat and kissed its white fur. “He’s a Kachina healer.”

Aiden stood up. “My patients are usually people, but I’m a cat lover, and I’ve learned how to heal them as well.” He shook hands with Griffin. “I’m just glad that I was home and available. I live only a few blocks away.”

“Thank you so much, Aiden.” Stevie gave him a hug. “I owe you one.”

He shrugged. “Your classes do a lot for Darcy. It’s the least I could do.” With a wave, he left.

Griffin watched Stevie cuddle the kitten, and his chest tightened. “Is there anything I can do?”

She looked up at him and shook her head. “I think you’ve done enough.” With that, she walked away.

He stared down the well. The situation could have had a terrible outcome, and it would have all been his fault. Because he hadn’t followed the rules that he should know like the back of his hand.

Despite the fact that he’d now witnessed supernatural events with own eyes, the knowledge that such things existed had him reeling. His whole life was based on certain rules and premises. If anything was possible—events that defied rational explanation—then where did that leave his worldview?

As much as he’d grown to care about Stevie, as much as he wanted her, he knew that this strange new reality was too much for him. And in light of his gross negligence with the well, he couldn’t trust himself to protect her and to be there for her. Heck, he was selling her home out from under her. He was selfish, and she was too generous. He was all about standing on solid ground, and she was somewhere up in the clouds.

Clearly, it would never have worked out between them.

Stevie’s focus refused to stay with the yoga class she was teaching. All she could think about was the events of the day—the kitten incident, and then the shabby way she’d spoken to Griffin. She needed to apologize to him. That was the least she owed him after he’d helped her save the cat. As soon as her students left, she started next door to speak to him, until she noticed the redhead in his driveway.

“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” Griffin told Pandora Williams. “But you can contact me anytime. I really appreciate you handling the details from here on out.”

Stevie ducked behind a bush. Her heart sank as she listened to Griffin enumerate the repairs still left to be completed—items that Pandora’s contractor would have to handle.

Stevie wondered if she was the reason he was leaving? Not only was she going to lose her home, but now she’d never see Griffin again. Clamping down on her emotions, she quietly returned to her cottage. She tried to meditate to clear her mind, to no avail.

Half an hour after she’d overheard his conversation with the real estate agent, Stevie paced the floor of her living room. Why was the thought of never seeing Griffin again so painful? He’d come into her life less than two weeks earlier. Surely that wasn’t long enough to fall for a guy.

Or was it?

She marched out to her porch and saw one of her neighbors toting his trash cans in from the curb. Which would give her the perfect excuse to check out what was going on next door. She glanced in the small wicker-framed mirror on the porch and smoothed her hair into place. Then she strode to the street for the cans, glancing at Griffin’s place, hoping for one last glimpse of him. But he was nowhere in sight.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she murmured a quick spell. “Goddess, goddess, three times three. Bring Griffin out to look at me. Goddess, goddess, one last time. If it’s meant for me, so mote it be.” Hearing a door open, she looked over in time to catch Griffin setting two suitcases on his porch.

He waved tentatively. “How’s the kitten doing?”

Heart thundering, she put the cans away then met him in the driveway. “Sleeping. She’s had quite a day.”

“We all have.” His lips compressed. “Stevie, I want to apologize for—”

“You don’t need to. I feel awful for losing my cool. That’s not me. I hope you can accept my apology.”

“Who could blame you for being upset? Not only did I endanger the kitten, but from the moment we met, I’ve brought you nothing but problems.” He hung his head. “It was completely my fault. I walked away from an open hole, which is such a huge no-no. I can’t believe that I broke such a basic safety rule.”

A lump lodged in her throat. “That’s not true. My life is richer for having met you.” She reached out for his hand.

He took it and gave her a ghost of a smile. “That’s awfully generous of you to say, especially considering that because of me you’ll have to move.”

Her stomach knotted. How could she let her cats down? Abandoning her mother and her brother had had disastrous consequences. On top of that, she was losing Griffin, which somehow overshadowed the rest. But she forced herself to be strong. “You have to follow your dream. I know your aunt would have wanted that.”

His brow knitted. “I never expected any of this, Stevie. I figured that I’d fix up the properties then head back up to New York.” He met her stare. “I never counted on you.”

Her pulse kicked up several notches.

He skimmed his thumb over her cheek. “You’ve taught me so much. In fact, as soon as I get home I’m going to start looking for my mother. I don’t believe that she’s the awful person my dad made her out to be all these years. I guess that I got so wrapped up in my rules that I failed to see the forest for the trees. The laws of nature don’t apply here all the time, or maybe not anywhere.”

She squeezed his hand. “There’s a comfort in rules—the solid foundation they provide. But at times they’ve got to bend. People aren’t so rigid, nor are the laws of nature.”

Stepping closer, he gave her a sweet kiss. When she looked into his eyes, she noticed a new sparkle there. “What is it?”

“I just realized what I’ve been missing my whole life. It’s magic, Stevie. And that magic is switched on when I’m with you.” He stood up taller and held her at arms’ length. “I’m going to turn down the offer on the properties here.”

She gasped. “You…how will you make the down payment on your house in Brooklyn?”

“I’ve always yearned for a solid foundation, a home of my own. Only now that I’ve met you, I know that the house I’d planned to buy in New York will never be my home, not when it’s a thousand miles away from you. It’s only a building. It has no heart and soul. The solid ground that I’ve sought is a person. It’s you.”

Tears stung her eyes. As their lips met, a million tiny butterflies fluttered inside her. After the best kiss ever, they held each other for several minutes, until her cell phone rang. She checked the display. “It’s my grandma,” she told him.

“Go ahead and answer,” he said. “When you’re finished speaking to her, you and I have a few things to discuss.”

“Yes, I suppose we do.” As she answered her call, Griffin returned to his porch and carried his suitcases back inside. “Hi, Grandma.”

“How are you, child?” her grandmother asked.

She couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’m fantastic. How’s your visit going?”

“Etta and I are troublemakers together.” She giggled like a schoolgirl. “We’ll be there in a little while.”

“What? I was going to drive over tomorrow to pick you up.”

“Etta’s driving us. I keep telling her to slow down before we get pulled over.”

“Oy.”

“My plans have changed, honey.”

Stevie held the phone closer to her ear. “Changed how?”

“As you know, Etta’s granddaughter, Bree lives down in north Florida, at the spiritualist camp.”

“Freedom Moon, yes.”

“Well, she invited us for a visit. Bree says that the camp is undergoing a big expansion. They’re building a senior center and a whole new commerce area. In fact, they’re looking for people who want to open spirituality-related businesses. Why don’t you come with us?”

She brushed off her grandmother’s suggestion. Now that she and Griffin were going to explore the possibility of a relationship, she wanted to stay close to home. “I don’t know.”

“Just think about it. We might need you to chaperone and keep us out of trouble.”

In the background, she heard Cousin Etta’s laughter. “We can discuss it when you get here.” Something about two old women with supernatural gifts conspiring together made Stevie just a little bit nervous.

Chapter Nine

For the past couple of hours—ever since Stevie’s grandmother had phoned her—there had been people at her house. First, her grandmother and Etta had arrived and had ushered Stevie inside the house. Then one of Stevie’s students had shown up. Griffin could hardly have a conversation with Stevie about their future when she had three other people around her.

He paced the floor, stopping every few minutes to check to see if the cars in front of Stevie’s house were still there, which they were. Rather than continue to drive himself nuts, he headed into the kitchen for a snack and fixed himself a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

“What am I going to say to her?” he asked aloud. He cared about Stevie. And he wanted to give this thing a chance. But what if that wasn’t practical? Was he making a mistake by walking away from a potential offer?

He got up to get himself a drink. As he stood at the counter pouring a glass of milk, a book fell off the shelf in the corner. When he retrieved it from the floor, he glanced at the title.

Magic is the Key

He recalled his conversation with Stevie at the park. He’d seen that little orb of energy. All he had to do was explore his own magic. So he shut his eyes and conjured a ball of white light. He felt its heat in his palm. The instant he opened his eye, it evaporated in a puff of smoke.

A chill rolled over his skin. He opened the book, and on the first page, in his aunt’s handwriting—with which he’d become familiar as he’d packed up her things—she’d written, “Follow your heart and the rest will fall in line.”

His heart was telling him not to wait another moment. Grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door, he left. To heck with the crowd at Stevie’s place. Being at his aunt’s house was getting a little too weird.

Before he’d made it off of his porch, though, he got a call. Bud Weller’s name showed on the display. He answered, ready to tell the investor that he couldn’t accept his offer. “Sorry we got cut off earlier,” Griffin said.

“I’ve gotten my wife onboard, so we can proceed now,” Weller told him.

Griffin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry to have wasted your time. Circumstances have changed. I’m going to keep both houses for the time being.”

Weller muttered a curse. “You can’t do this to me. We want to be in that neighborhood. It could be years before side-by-side houses come on the market again.”

But Griffin had to give whatever this was between him and Stevie a chance. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Listen,” Weller pleaded. “What if I up my offer by twenty thousand?”

“I don’t—”

“Fifty. Has someone else made you an offer? Come on, Griffin. I need this. My mother-in-law is a force of nature. I had all my hair before she arrived here to stay with us. A thick, full head of hair. Now I’m almost completely bald. What does that tell you?”

Griffin chuckled.

“Okay, fine. You win. Another hundred thousand. And that’s my final offer.”

Griffin gulped. If Weller was serious, his revised offer was a lot more than the deal was worth. He couldn’t just turn down all that money. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Weller. Give me a few days to think it over, okay?”

“Of course,” the investor said. “As long as your answer will be yes.”

After he hung up, Griffin glanced next door. One of the cars that had been parked in front of Stevie’s place was gone. Catching her alone might be nearly impossible with Cledith there. But he didn’t want to show up empty-handed, so he grabbed a pair of scissors and made a detour the far corner of Aunt Dorothea’s backyard.

Minutes later he rang Stevie’s doorbell.

When she answered, her gaze dropped to the pink roses in his hand. “For me?” She ushered him inside.

“For your grandmother, actually.”

Stevie’s smile broadened. “Look who’s here, Grandma.”

Cledith was sitting on the sofa holding a teacup. “Hello, Griffin.”

He handed her the flowers and her face lit up. “How sweet.” She winked at Stevie. “This one’s a keeper, child. If I was fifty years younger, I’d snatch him up in a heartbeat.”

Etta came into the room. “Me too.”

“Why don’t I put those in a vase for you, Grandma.” Stevie took the bouquet. “Want to help me?” she asked Griffin.”

He followed her into the kitchen. “I was hoping we could talk.”

Stevie arranged the roses. “Me too. My grandmother and Etta are trying to convince me to take a trip to Florida with them. They want to check out a spiritualist camp there where Etta’s granddaughter lives.”

“Is that anything like summer camp?”

She laughed. “Not exactly. Honestly, I think Etta just wants company for the drive.”

“When are you going?” He prayed it wasn’t right away.

“I haven’t agreed to it yet, but maybe tomorrow.” She set the vase on the table.

He closed the distance between them. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“The investor offered me more money, a lot more.”

Her smile slipped as she backed away from him and sat on the bench seat. “You should probably accept it, huh?”

“I think I should.”

She clasped her hands on top of the table. “So you’ll be going back to New York soon?”

“I’m not so sure.” He sat down. “I could take some of the proceeds and buy a house here in Nocturne Falls, become an investor myself. What if I could find another house here for you to rent? I could build you an even bigger enclosure for your cats.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand. Where would you live?”

“I haven’t exactly worked that out yet.”

Cledith screamed from the other room. Griffin and Stevie ran in and found her standing over Etta, who was lying on the floor, eyes wide open.

“What happened?” Stevie cried.

“I don’t know,” her grandmother said. “She got up and started mumbling something about a spirit. Next thing I knew she was flat on the floor.”

Griffin crouched down and felt the woman’s wrist. Her pulse was regular and strong. “Etta, can you hear me?”

“Not Etta,” she said.

Stevie and her grandmother gasped in unison.

“Who are you?” Cledith asked Etta. To Griffin and Stevie, she said, “Etta is sensitive to spirit energy.”

Griffin backed away from her. “Maybe she just hit her head.”

“A spirit is borrowing her body, son.” Cledith gripped the arm of the couch. “I’ve seen this happen to her before.”

“Who are you?” Stevie asked Etta.

“Leo,” came the response in a voice deeper than Etta’s.

Griffin wasn’t ready to accept that a ghost had commandeered the elderly woman’s body. “How can we be sure?” he asked no one in particular.

Stevie crouched on the floor next to the old woman. “Why are you here, Leo?”

“I was here before you arrived.” A wry smile lifted the corners of Etta’s lips. “I love you. I won’t let anyone else have you.”

Stevie gulped and backed away from Etta. Wide-eyed, she looked from Griffin to her grandmother, and back again. “My friend Jordan told me that one of the rescue cats felt a presence. She said he mentioned something about a Leo. I assumed she’d meant the zodiac sign, not a man’s name.”

Griffin eased Stevie away from Etta. “Leo?”

“Yes?” Etta answered.

“What is that you want?” he asked.

“I want Stevie to myself.” Etta pointed to Griffin. “And for you to leave her alone.”

Cledith touched Stevie’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s him who’s caused all the mischief around here that you told me about.”

Stevie nodded. “What do we do?”

Before Cledith could answer, Etta gasped. Then she blinked several times and pressed her hand to her chest. “Cledith?”

Griffin helped Etta sit up.

“Is that you, Etta?” Cledith asked her.

“Yes,” she answered. “I’m back.”

After they’d filled in Etta on what had transpired, she suggested calling her granddaughter. “Bree has handled situations like this before.”

Griffin rubbed the bridge of his nose. With a lovesick ghost around, there was no telling what could happen. All he knew for sure was that he had to stay close in order to protect Stevie.

“I’m so sorry about this.” Stevie wiped ash from Griffin’s face in the living room of Miss Percival’s house. They’d learned about Leo just last night, and the ghost had lashed out twice today at the man that the ghost perceived as his rival—locking Griffin out of her house this morning when he’d showed up with bagels and lox for the women, and then again a few minutes ago when Griffin had been cleaning the fireplace here. Leo had somehow dropped a ton of ash down on Griffin.

“It’s not your fault.” Griffin pressed a sooty kiss to Stevie’s cheek. “I can hardly blame the old ghost for falling for you.”

“My cousin will be arriving this afternoon,” she said. “Hopefully Bree will be able to get through to Leo and convince him to quit messing with you.”

“I’m more concerned about Leo hurting you,” he said.

She couldn’t resist giving him another kiss. Having someone want to protect her felt pretty amazing since she’d always been the one to take care of others—her mother, her brother, and even the few boyfriends she’d had. “If Leo had wanted to hurt me, he’d have already done it. Seems as if he’s been gunning for you.”

A car’s horn pulled her attention away. She hurried to the window and teased back the curtain in time to see an old VW van turn into the driveway. “That must be Bree now.”

“What’s the plan?” Griffin joined Stevie at the window.

She thought about the phone conversation she’d had with her cousin the night before. “As soon as it gets dark, Bree will lead a séance. If she can get Leo to show up, she’ll try to talk him into leaving you alone.”

“I’ll tell him that he can’t have you.” He drew her into his arms. “You’re spoken for now.”

“And so are you.” She couldn’t remember ever being happier. Even though she’d probably have to move at some point, she knew in her heart that Griffin had her back. And that wherever she finally landed, she’d make sure that her cats were well taken care of. “Let’s go and greet Bree. I haven’t seen her in years.”

A little while later she introduced her cousin to Griffin.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Bree told him. “I hope I’ll be able to help you both out.”

“Neither of us have ever participated in a séance,” Stevie told Bree. “Anything we should know?”

Bree cinched her long black hair into a side ponytail. “Let’s see.” She counted the people in the room. “With my grandmother and yours, we have five people. I’d rather that we were six. It’s just better if the total number of guests is divisible by three.”

Stevie nodded. She understood about magical numbers. “I have a friend who can communicate with animals, and she’s very sensitive.”

“Perfect,” Bree said. “Why don’t you invite her.”

While Bree enlisted Griffin’s help to set up the séance table, Stevie phoned Jordan.

“Sounds like fun,” Jordan said.

“It would be if Griffin and I didn’t have so much at stake.”

“True. I’ll be over after I drop off Truffle at the house where I’m dog sitting this week.”

“Thanks, Jordan.” She went to the kitchen to check on the preparations. Bree had covered the kitchen table with a black cloth and had three pillar candles in the center.

Griffin set a plate with grapes and some bread near the candles. “Bree’s in your bedroom. She said she likes to meditate before conducting a séance.”

“Makes sense.” When he offered his hand, she took it, drawing comfort from his touch. “I sure hope this works.”

“Me too.”

Her grandmother and Etta came in through the back door just as the doorbell rang.

“That’s my friend, Jordan,” she told the others. “Excuse me.” She went to the living room and let in Jordan. “You’re a lifesaver. Thanks for joining us on such short notice.”

Jordan pulled her into a hug. “I’m always down for helping a friend in need. When I was kidnapped a few months ago, I had lots of time to think. I resolved to be a better sister to Mallory and a better friend to those I care about.” She picked up Namaste from the sofa. “She likes your boyfriend.”

Stevie beamed. “Nice to know that she has good taste.” Hearing her bedroom door open, she took Jordan to the kitchen.

Bree came into the room and lit the candles. “Welcome. Would everyone please take a seat at the table?” She shut off the overhead light.

Stevie sat next to Griffin after the others took their places. He nodded reassuringly at her.

Bree took a seat. “Let’s all join hands.”

The group did as she asked.

“Now clear your mind. Take a few deep breaths, in and out, in and out.”

Stevie relaxed as best she could.

“Close your eyes if you want,” Bree said. After a few seconds, she spoke louder and with authority. “Ancestors, we bid you protect us from all harm on any level. Hail and welcome.” She touched the plate of food. “We bring you gifts from life into death, and we ask that Leo, departed soul, join our table.”

Stevie opened her eyes and scanned the room, but didn’t see or feel anything unusual.

“Commune with us, Leo,” Bree said. “Come into our fold.” She waited a few beats before repeating her request. “Leo, please commune with us. We seek to understand, and mean you no harm.”

The candles created fluid shadows, but one of those shadows grew bigger and darker. Stevie gulped.

Etta sat up taller than her normally arthritic posture allowed. “Why have you summoned me?” a voice deeper than Etta’s asked.

“Please tell us who you are,” Bree said.

“Leo,” Etta said.

“Thank you for joining us, Leo.” Bree tightened her grip on Stevie’s right hand. “We beseech you to stop interfering in Stevie’s life. Griffin is a good man who doesn’t deserve your ire.”

Silence met the medium’s request.

“Leo,” Bree continued. “Are you still with us?”

“I love Stevie,” Leo said through Etta. “Why should I relinquish her?”

“You never had her heart. Would you want her to be sad for her entire earthly life? You had your own time on the earthly plane. Please allow her the same, and take your place among those who have passed on to the spirit world. Return to your place in the universe, there to rest and remain.”

Stevie held her breath, but the spirit didn’t speak.

A minute or two passed before Etta huffed loudly. Then her head fell forward.

“He’s left.” Bree inhaled. “Thank you spirits, ancestors and friends for joining our table, and protecting us. We bid you farewell. So mote it be.”

Stevie’s shoulders felt lighter. “So mote it be.”

Bree blew out the candles. “You can all let go. The spirits have departed.”

“Well?” Griffin asked.

Bree shrugged. “We’ll know soon.”

“Shh,” Jordan said. “Mittens has a message.”

“Who’s Mittens?” Griffin whispered to Stevie.

“One of the rescue cats.” She faced her cousin. “What’s the message.”

Jordan closed her eyes. “He doesn’t feel the energy anymore. Leo’s gone.”

“Thank the goddess,” Grandma said.

Bree stood up. “We should all have something to eat, to ground all the energy.”

“I have just the thing.” Stevie brought over the lavender tea bread she’d baked that morning.

The mood lightened as they talked, ate, and cleaned up from the séance.

“I can’t thank you enough for coming here on such short notice,” Griffin told Bree. “Only a week ago, I never believed in anything I couldn’t see with my own eyes. It’s like the world is a whole different place.” He lifted Stevie’s hand and kissed it. “It’s a much better place now.”

“You guys are adorable together.” Bree put her arm around Stevie’s shoulder. “You’ve got to come to Freedom Moon. The camp is growing by leaps and bounds. And we’re desperate for a meditation teacher.”

Stevie smiled at Griffin. “We’ll have to do a road trip soon.”

He nodded. “Considering I’m about to be homeless and maybe jobless soon, why not?”

“Jobless?” Stevie asked.

“Do you think I’m leaving you alone here? I’m not going back to New York, except to pack up my apartment.”

“What do you do?” Etta asked.

“I’m a general contractor, but I’ve been working as a code enforcement officer,” he said.

Bree widened her eyes. “He’s a contractor?”

Stevie nodded. “Why?”

“They’re looking for licensed contractors to head up several of the building projects going on at Freedom Moon.” Bree took Stevie’s arm. “You guys totally need to pay us a visit down in Florida.”

Stevie wished she could. “I can’t leave the cats alone. There aren’t a lot of people I can count on to handle the rescue, even for a few days.”

“I’ll do it,” Jordan said. “I’ve been having conversations with several of them since after the séance. We’re already old friends.”

“Just do it, child.” Stevie’s grandmother threw her a wink. “Follow your heart, and the rest will fall in line.”

Griffin gasped.

“What?” Stevie asked him.

“That’s the exact same advice I got yesterday.”

“From whom?”

His face lit up with a smile. “From Aunt Dorothea. She wanted me to know that magic is the key. Our magic.”

“Our magic,” Stevie repeated. “I like the sound of that. And I’d like to hear all about your conversation with your aunt’s spirit, Mr. Everything-has-a-rational-explanation.”

“Yeah, well she didn’t exactly appear to me, but she gave me the message.”

Her grandmother elbowed Etta. “How much do you want to bet that Griffin ends up being part of the family?”

Stevie’s face burned with embarrassment as the women all laughed. “Grandma!”

Griffin waggled his eyebrows at her grandmother. “I’ll take that wager. Just don’t bet against us.” He reeled Stevie in for a kiss, and she suspected that they’d both just won forever.

Epilogue

Three months later…

The instant Griffin entered the cabin, he inhaled the aromas of garlic, basil, and oregano. Stevie had her back to him, stirring a pot on the stove.

Home.

For now, this was Stevie’s place, but someday soon, he’d live here with her. Warmth radiated through him. They’d agreed to take their time in getting to know each other, but love had had other plans for them.

Stevie looked over her shoulder and gave him a smile that made his whole day. “How was work?”

He closed the distance between them and kissed the back of her neck. “Great. The permits came through today, so we'll be starting work next week on Phase II of the Freedom Moon Commerce Center.”

She set down a wooden spoon then faced him wearing that gorgeous smile. “I can’t wait for the new meditation studio to be done.”

Drawing her against him, he nuzzled her earlobe.

“Tsk, tsk.” Cledith tapped her cane on the wood floor. “Granny in the house. Cool it, lovebirds.”

Stevie laughed. “I forgot to tell you that Grandma was joining us for dinner.”

He backed away from his girlfriend and waved to her grandmother. “Nice to see you, Cledith. I hope you and Etta are staying out of trouble this week.”

Taking a seat on the rocker, she huffed. “Without the two of us that senior center wouldn’t be half as much fun. I don’t what they did before we moved in.”

Stevie served up three bowls of pasta. “Bree says they’re naming the new wing for you—Frick and Frack.”

Chuckling, Griffin carried the plates to the table while Stevie tossed the salad.

“I rescued a calico cat today,” Stevie said. “Dinner’s ready, Grandma.”

Cledith made her way to the dining area. “You might have to expand the screened porch you built for the rescue cats here, Griffin. Stevie’s had two new visitors this week alone.”

“Indeed,” he said. “Speaking of visitors…”

Stevie stabbed a grape tomato with her fork. “Yeah?”

“I accepted my mother’s friend request from Facebook.”

Stevie’s eyes lit up. “Really?” She set down her fork and leaned across the table to give him a quick kiss. “I’m so glad.”

“We sent a few messages back and forth. Then she called me, and we spoke for almost an hour.” He replayed the conversation they’d had. “She’d like to come down this summer for a couple weeks.”

She cheered. “That’s awesome.”

“I think so. We haven’t seen each other for more than twenty years. But she sounds as if she really wants to get to know me. And you, too.”

“I can’t wait to meet her.” Stevie rubbed her hands together. “That’s such great news.”

Cledith narrowed her eyes.

“What is it, Grandma?”

A slow smile lifted the corners of Cledith’s mouth. “Who wants to bet that Griffin got his allergy to cats from his mom?”

About the Author

Wynter Daniels has authored more than three dozen romances, including contemporary, romantic suspense, and paranormal romance books for several publishers including Entangled Publishing and Carina Press. She lives in sunny Florida with her family and a very spoiled cat. After careers in marketing and the salon industry, Wynter’s wicked prose begged to be set free. You can find her on the web on Facebook, Twitter and her website.

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