“Is that my pink apron?” I asked Petyr, ignoring the agitated Shifter.

  “Sorry, my witchy. It cannot be saved.”

  “Dammit!”

  I stomped my foot angrily.

  “Sorry about your apron, Maribella,” Conrad murmured, sympathetically.

  I was still holding the remnants of my favorite rolling pin in my hand. Between that and my pink apron, I was positively shaking with emotion.

  “Maribella? Are you alright?”

  Conrad’s eyebrows were raised, and he backed up a step. I couldn’t blame him. Magical sparks in pinks and white were shooting from my fingertips, where they landed, plain, hardtack littered the ground.

  Hardtack was disgusting stuff. Dry, brittle, and downright dangerous to teeth—real and fake alike. It was the worst possible substance a Kitchen witch could make. A food so completely devoid of love, it could hardly provide ample nutrition to keep a rodent alive.

  “Bella? Bella!” Conrad called my name, but I was not listening. The piles of hardtack grew and grew until some were taller than my familiar.

  Usually, my magic helped me create the sweetest, most delicious treats, but not when I was angry. These stale, tough biscuits were better suited to a sixteenth century pirate ship than my store. But I was beyond reason at the moment.

  “I don’t know who you are, you loathsome, dirty, rotten arsonist! But I am going to find you, and when I do, your goose is cooked, buddy!” I shouted into the night air like some avenging angel or a desperate lunatic. Take your pick.

  “Bella? You good?”

  Conrad stepped over a huge pile of revolting crackers and took me by the shoulders, giving me a gentle shake. His emerald eyes glittered with worry, but there was nothing wrong with me other than the obvious.

  I was just pissed off.

  “What? Yeah. I’m fine,” I bit out.

  “Breathe with me,” he instructed.

  Hypnotized by that verdant stare, I did as the tall python Shifter said. His simmering smolder had a noticeable effect on me, and I struggled to keep our meetings purely platonic.

  It wasn’t easy. I felt myself wavering, but the sound of crunching brought my attention elsewhere.

  “Huh. Well, that’s handy,” Conrad said, and I had to agree.

  The piles of hardtack I’d created were bound to cause a mess, but apparently Petyr was a fan of the vile stuff. The Domovyk had even called in his pals, Ivan and Gryn, to join him.

  The three familiars sat down with their own handles of vodka, munching on hardtack, as they started playing a round of preferans—a Ukranian card game I did not quite understand.

  “Well, at least they’ll eat through this stuff before you open today,” the snake man pointed out, and I grunted my reply.

  Lucky me.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Want me to stay to help?” Conrad asked.

  I was tempted to let him, I really was. But that wouldn’t be fair to either of us.

  “Oooh, when I catch you, you bothersome little fire bug, I am gonna turn you into a toad,” I muttered, nearly tripping over Petyr.

  The Domovyk replied in his native tongue, some cross between Russian, Romanian, and Klingon, I think. Anyway, I sure as heck could not decipher it.

  Generally, the furry little dude was happy-go-lucky. But ever since we’d been targeted by some pyro-happy punk, Petyr’s typically jovial panties had gotten into a gnarly twist.

  I couldn’t blame him. He was probably sick and tired of cleaning this mess up. Having access to immeasurable magic didn’t mean expending it wasn’t exhausting. The fact he did it all for me made tears well in my eyes.

  “My witchy must not cry! The arson must be stopped, da? I will set trap for him and tear him limb from limb!”

  “Oh, um, catching him, or her, would be nice, but maybe no limb-tearing?”

  “Fine. Will make torture device instead, da?”

  Yikes. I supposed I would have to set up a Swoosh call with Sassy for advice on how to talk down a homicidal Domovyk. She was excellent with languages. I made a mental note, but it would have to wait.

  First, I had to finish cleaning. The smell of burned sheetrock and lighter fluid was making me dizzy, and I had to finish this before I could get my buxom butt back inside the kitchen to try to magically catch up on everything that needed baking before we opened for business.

  It wasn’t money or greed that made it necessary to open shop. It was love for my town. What would the good people of Castor’s Corner do without their goodies? I shuddered to think.

  “Petyr, will you open the back door? We need some fresh air in here,” I said, picking up what was left of a small placard I received for winning best blueberry scones at the Annual Witches Tea & Jam-boree last year at the Charmed Embers Women and Witches Social Club, before I gave in and asked him to hunt the fire-setting villain and tear him to bits.

  “Da. I will return, my witchy.”

  Second, I had to give my statement to a certain sexy firefighter and newly appointed deputy, who I’d been avoiding ever since we slept together, and I snuck out the next day without so much as a bye-bye.

  Third, if I didn’t get this all sorted in the next twenty minutes, I was going to have a line of unhappy customers outside. I mentioned Castor’s Corner was filled with supernaturals, didn’t I? Well, did I also mention they were creatures of habit?

  The Tasty Tart was the go to place for coffee and treats. One thing I did not want was a town full of hangry witches and supes knocking down my door.

  It happened once when I extended a vacation and came home a day late. There’d been picketers outside, for Goddess’ sake!

  I wiped my forehead with a clean kitchen towel, donned a fresh apron, and got to work. Sweeping, scrubbing, spraying, and polishing everything I could before dumping the last of the debris in the enormous trash bag I’d set in the middle of the room.

  The good news was the arsonist had started this fire on one side of the storefront—one of my custom-made, natural oak, floor to ceiling baker’s racks. I just loved the homey feel of wood.

  Yep. That was another of my unfortunate word choices. Oh well, I was sticking with it. Wood was good. It could be my new motto.

  “Put that right on a business card,” I muttered to myself.

  I passed beneath the brand new alarm system I ordered and stuck my middle finger up at the camera. Best supernatural system out there, my left toe! The thing was utterly useless.

  I really could not believe it. The arsonist had not only gotten in undetected and set an entire wooden display shelf on fire, singeing the wall behind it, but he or she had destroyed several of my favorite things.

  Like my rolling pin. My pink apron. That placard. And a mug I loved with a photo of me, Evie, and Donny printed on it. The girls gave it to me on my last birthday.

  Ugh.

  Who could do such a thing? And why? I was mulling it all over when someone spoke from right behind me.

  “Aghhhh!” I yelled—what can I say? I startled easily. Just another of my loveable qualities.

  To add to my embarrassment, a pile of hardtack shot from my fingertips in a spray of pink and white glitter. Dang it. I wished that would stop happening.

  Note to self, send Petyr this location for hardtack cleanup, stat.

  “Sorry for scaring you, sweetheart, um, Maribella,” he corrected himself. My heart was practically pounding out of my chest at the python Shifter’s sudden appearance.

  Why was he back?

  “Um, someone called about some noise, and I decided to check before I went off shift to make sure you were alright. Are you?”

  “Am I what?” I asked stupidly.

  “Well, are you alright?”

  He stepped closer to me, and I pressed my lips together before I did something stupid. Like jumped him.

  “You work fast,” he said, looking around the place.

  “I suppose, but that’s mostly because of Petyr.”

  “Petyr, huh? Are you and your familiar having any issues? I noticed he was a little possessive of you earlier,” he added with a slightly growly hiss.

  Ermagerd.

  Just like that, a wave of lust hit me like a sucker punch. Conrad Boman had the sexiest, huskiest voice I had ever heard. That snaky hiss at the end of words that didn’t even end in the letter s made my panties positively wet.

  “No, Petyr and I get along great. In fact, he is so happy here, he is about to ask Zelda if he can bring his wife and sons over,” I told him.

  “Oh. I didn’t realize he was married,” Conrad replied. “That’s good. What about you?”

  “What about me what?”

  “Any ex-boyfriends with grudges? Someone who would want to hurt you, Bella?”

  I frowned. Sure, I had ex-boyfriends, men I’d dated in my past. One in particular who’d broken my heart, but he’d moved to Chicago last I’d heard.

  “The only ex I have who might want to cause me grief is Jameson Vorhees, but he took a position with the Warlock World Coven and moved to Chicago.”

  “Vorhees,” he growled and jotted down the name. “Anyone else?” he asked.

  “Uh, no. You alright there?”

  “Sorry, I might be a little possessive myself,” he confessed, and his eyes were positively glowing with emotion.

  Whether it was lust or jealousy, I couldn’t say. But either way, the man was totally hot. Like smoking.

  “No reason for you to be,” I hedged.

  “Isn’t there, sweetheart? I know what you taste like. I know what sounds you make when you like something,” he whispered, close enough now that I could feel heat seep from his body through my clothes.

  “That’s in the past,” I said, but even I didn’t believe me.

  “You know I can hear lies, sweetheart. Those memories have been playing over and over in my mind.”

  “So. What difference does it make? We slept together. It was a one off—”

  “Not for me. I want you, Maribella Strega. And I promise you, little witch, I’m not giving up.”

  “No? You say that, but you will. You’ll get bored. Find something else shiny to chase,” I whispered.

  “Nuh uh. No way, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere. Admit it. You want me, too.”

  With a few well-spoken words, the man had the power to make my heart speed up and my body hum with desire. I closed my eyes, willing myself to show no reaction. I couldn’t do this with him.

  “You just want what you can’t have. It’s the chase that you crave. It will pass,” I said and moved out of his reach.

  I had no time for smexy Shifters. Even blond-haired, square-jawed, six and a half foot tall Shifters with muscles on his muscles and the skill to make my body tingle with hardly any effort at all.

  Wait. Why wasn’t I dating him again?

  Oh yeah.

  The guy had all the moves, said all the right words, but he wanted something from me I didn’t know I could give. He wanted commitment. Call me crazy, but that was a serious problem for me.

  First off, I could not fathom why on the Goddess’ green earth a man who looked like that would want to be with me. I mean, I was cute, but I wasn’t anything special.

  Yeah, I baked a good cake, and sure, I told the odd joke or two. But let’s face it. He would get bored, and he would leave. Most men did. And I was not in the market to get my heart stomped on.

  “This ain’t gonna pass, sweetheart. Just let me know when you’re ready for me. I’ll be waiting.”

  The rumble that emanated from his chest hit me right between the legs. I moaned aloud, unable to stop the sound from escaping my mouth. As if that was all the assent he needed, Conrad leaned in and crushed his lips to mine.

  With only thirty minutes left to get ready for opening, I should not be making out with a sexy python in Deputy’s clothing, but there I was. Letting Conrad Boman kiss the heck out of me.

  I closed my eyes and held on just to stop myself from swooning. The man kissed like the devil. He was hot enough to burn me up from the inside out. When he broke off the kiss, I almost face planted on the newly swept floor.

  Sure, it was clean, but the tile would have hurt. Thankfully, he held me until my knees stopped knocking. The man was dangerous. Seriously.

  Hmm. Maybe I should rethink my position on our relationship.

  CHAPTER 4

  Later that week…

  I’d been fire free for a few days, and that meant no more visits from Deputy Boman. I didn’t know what game he was playing, but maybe I’d been right all along. Maybe he’d found something shiny to pursue.

  Sad face.

  Business was good. I’d been working on the wedding cake design for Bella and Donny, and I could not wait to show them after our monthly bonfire.

  “Good evening, Bella!” a shrill voice rang out, and I cringed.

  Why did this always happen? Mrs. Gennaro walked into the bakery just as I was getting ready to switch the window sign from open to closed. I inhaled a fortifying breath, determined not to let my grumpiness show.

  But really? It was 5:59.

  “Hello, Mrs. Gennaro,” I replied as she walked her petite self to the counter.

  I typically had a few employees here at closing and through the day, of course. They usually worked the register, prepped the deliveries, and got the mail orders ready.

  The young witch who’d been on schedule today, Mira, had to leave earlier than planned. That meant double duty for me, baking and filling in front when we got busy. I had sent everyone else home already since it was literally one minute till closing. Just my luck, to get a late customer.

  If you’re here, you’re open.

  Granny’s voice rang in my head, and I accepted the truth in her sentiments. I was here, so I was open. Even if I was dead on my feet. Petyr would be back soon. He’d gone home to fetch the half gallon of paint I’d left in my garage.

  We’d patched up the damaged wall earlier this week with spackle. But it had rained all week, and it took days of waiting for it to dry completely before we could sand it. Finally, the wall was ready to be painted.

  I know, I know. Why didn’t I simply use magic? The answer was simple. Magic came with rules, and one of those was a somewhat ambiguous one about no personal gain.

  Not willing to take a chance with anything backfiring on me, my friends, or The Tasty Tart, I insisted all repairs be done by hand. Just a little elbow grease, and everything would be better.

  Petyr had already sanded the spot, and all that was left was to paint over it. I had a new baker’s rack coming tomorrow from Happy’s Natural Wood Furniture & Lumber.

  That beaver Shifter was an artist with shelves and racks. One more day, and there would be no more evidence of that nasty little fire bug who’d been terrorizing me.

  Creep. Wait till I find you.

  I listened to the sound of the back door creaking open and heard Petyr muttering in his unique language, telling me he was back with the stuff I needed to finish the job. My familiar was feisty when he felt threatened, and I knew he was not a fan of our unwanted guest.

  Petyr was a good Domovyk. I actually enjoyed his company and truly believed he was helping make me a better witch. After tonight, I was going to bake him a special treat.

  I just had to finish with this customer and go meet the girls.

  Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

  Or it would be if Mrs. Gennaro hurried up. I waited while she perused the display cases, most of which had already been cleared out for the day. She really needed to get a move on. I had a wall to paint.

  After which, I had to haul ass to catch up with Evie and Donny. It was that time of month again, and no, I don’t mean that time of month. It was trifecta time!

  That meant we had to meet in the pine barrens to strengthen the wards surrounding our precious hometown. Every month, like clockwork, we gathered deep in the heart of the forest.

  Our little clearing was sort of like a mini field. It was a special place, right atop some pretty important ley lines, where our magic could surge and do what it did best—keep our town safe.

  Once there, we’d light our traditional bonfire to better focus our powers, and connect with the universe, and the Goddess. Singing our special casts and chants into the air, my besties, aka my cousins, and I would dance in the moonlight and use our magic to commune with our wards.

  Yes, we actually shook our buxom booties while completely naked in the flickering light of a huge bonfire. It was there we wove our magic into being, strengthening the force field that kept Castor’s Corner hidden from mortal eyes.

  The last thing we wanted around here was a bunch of non-magicals snooping around. Bad enough we’d let in some Shifters without meaning to.

  In our defense, Jaxson made an excellent Sheriff. Ryan and Conrad weren’t so bad either, filling positions as firefighters or deputies when they weren’t performing their other jobs.

  Ryan, of course, worked for me, baking, and Conrad was making a name for himself locally as a fine electrician. I was glad for him.

  I really hated the way we left things. Or rather, the way he left things. He was so dang confusing. One second hot, the next cold. Turned on, then off. It was more than I could bear. Why couldn’t the man just be happy with a little no-strings boinking?

  Relationships and me, we never worked out. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, I supposed. I mean, was it normal for every guy I dated to want to change me the second I said yes to being his girlfriend?

  I was so not joking. No sooner did I enter a committed relationship, then the diet books started piling up. Next came the well-meaning advice about changing my lifestyle. Then the self-doubt and unhappy feelings I was not good enough—gross.

  I hated that. I didn’t want to doubt myself. I was thirty-something years old—mind your business—and I was tired of hearing how I should get another job, a healthier one. Or that I should join a gym and learn to love myself.

  I had many things to say to the last boyfriend who tried that crap with me. First, loving myself was never a problem, thank you very much. Second, I happened to enjoy my profession.

 

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