“Let’s head over,” I whisper to the furry beast as I plop her into my tote bag right next to the fire extinguisher I’m hauling around, and she promptly pokes her head out so she can see the drama play out in real time.
I speed over as quickly as my legs can carry me, traversing toddlers and pumpkins alike.
Regina spots me, and her eyes enlarge with horror.
The dark-haired steed she’s speaking to turns my way, and I gasp in his presence.
“Shepherd Wexler,” I say, completely thrown for a loop to see him looking like the specimen he is—not that it surprises me.
Shep’s baby blues siren out my way as a smile struggles to break free on his lips, but he’s too ornery to gift it to me.
“Bowie Binx.” He motions toward my face. “Where’s Chuckles?”
I take a moment to glower at him.
“Never to be seen again,” I say. “Wish I can say the same for some of us here.”
A dark laugh strums from Regina. “Now is that any way to speak of Winifred?”
The fluffy feline roars at the witch in our presence. I think Winifred doesn’t like how Regina is speaking in mine.
Regina lifts her nose my way. “I’m consulting the Sanderson sisters today on how to best optimize their business. Once I’m through, their profits will be doubled.”
“Really?” I muse. “Once you’re through with your fiscal sorcery here, I invite you to take a look at the inner workings of the Manor Café. We could use a full renovation—and doubling the profits should provide for that nicely. Oh, wait. You managed that place for years and nearly ran it into the ground. Never mind. Let’s hope the Sanderson sisters read the warning label on your consulting services.”
It’s true. Regina bought the supplies for the café at the local grocery store. And the food waste in the kitchen? Well, you could have fed a small island nation if you bundled up all those half-empty containers she threw out.
I have a feeling Regina’s advice will be more of a deterrent to the Sanderson sisters than it will be a financial boon, but who am I to point that out? After all, she might just be my in with Annabelle.
Someone calls Regina’s name from the tent to our left where the registers are situated. I glance that way to see a line of children holding pumpkins twice as big as their heads as they wait to pay for their prizes.
Regina looks to Shep. “I’ll be back,” she shouts it out like a threat.
I wait until she’s good and gone before taking a step in toward the handsome homicide detective.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m interrupting your hot date at the pumpkin patch?”
“You’re not interrupting.” He folds his arms across his chest. “In fact, you’re right on time. I figured you’d show up this afternoon. You ready?”
“For what? A pair of shiny silver bracelets?”
He tips his chin up a notch. “You seem to bring them up a lot.”
“I have a natural inclination toward shiny things that can lead to a prison cell.”
Shep pulls out his wallet and momentarily flashes his badge my way.
My mouth falls open as I look back up at him.
“Are you flirting with me, Detective?”
“I’m flirting with justice. Take it how you will.” His cheek flinches. “I told Annabelle it was my day off, and that I was meeting my girlfriend here for a date.”
“Your girlfriend?” My brows hike into my forehead. “I’m sure Regina was thrilled to inject herself into that little twisted liaison.”
“Regina isn’t aware. I was waiting for you, Sweet Cheeks.”
“Now we’re talking, Honey Bunch. But just FYI, I prefer Kitten.” A thought comes to me. “But what would you have done if I didn’t show up?”
“I had faith.”
Winifred bleats a sweet meow, and Shep fishes her out of my bag.
“Come here.” He holds her like a football, his eyes still glued to my tote bag. “Is that a fire extinguisher?”
“You can never be too safe.” I glance over to the register and note Regina talking to two women, the younger of whom I recognize from that night with her long caramel hair, dimples, and bright eyes. “That’s her!”
“It seems she’s busy. Let’s give her a moment.” Shep holds out his hand my way. “Play the part.” He nods for me to take it.
My hand meets with his and our fingers lace together. Shep’s hand is warm, strong, as his thick fingers firm over mine.
Shep and I walk between rows and rows of pumpkins as the cool, crisp, autumn breeze lashes our way.
“Favorite fall memory,” I say, swinging our hands between us. “Go.”
“Caramel apples. My mom made them a few times. Back when my family was still intact. And, of course, Halloween night. What’s not to love about Halloween?”
“I bet you were a rabble-rouser. Have any skeletons in the closet you care to rattle my way?”
“Not a one. And you?” He lifts a brow.
“Now, now. You know about the most important skeletons. Besides, every good relationship has an air of mystery.”
“And”—he gives a wistful shake of the head— “you’ve been a mystery to me ever since you came into town.”
“You made quick work of that,” I say and Winifred yowls as if agreeing.
“No, I don’t believe I have, Stella.” He pierces me with those glowing eyes as he says my true name and a thrill rides up and down my spine. “Bowie.” He nods into it as if acquiescing.
“Tread lightly, Detective. Not every mystery is meant to be solved.”
His lips twist as if that didn’t settle well with him, and I have no doubt it didn’t.
“And what do you think will happen if this mystery is discovered?” His gait slows as he asks the question until we come to a halt.
Our eyes lock, and I can tell by that mischievous look he has no intention of letting sleeping supernatural powers lie. Shep is determined to dive deep into the darkest part of me. And, believe you me, I’d much rather hold those supernatural powers close to my vest forever.
“That mystery will remain one,” I whisper with a plea layered just beneath my tone.
“Bowie,” he whispers with his own plea buried in his voice. Shep steps in front of me, his chest a hair from mine, his head bowing down enough, and I lift my face toward his.
The idea of a smile curves his lips as he bends his head ever so close. My heart drums hard, my breathing grows erratic, and just as we’re about to land our lips where they’ve been craving to be, a wild cry erupts behind us.
Winifred lets out a roar as she spasms between us with her hair on end and a wild look in her eyes.
Shep and I turn around and spot Regina sprinting our way, brandishing a scarecrow over her head.
In the blink of a scarecrow’s eye, Winifred uses my chest as a springboard and darts into the field behind us.
“Winifred!” I shout so loud my vocal cords burn from the effort. “Get back here! Opal is going to skin me alive if I lose you. And don’t you think she won’t notice!”
Shep grunts, “I think I can get her.” He takes off like a running back headed for the goalpost, and I’m suddenly moved to pluck out Regina’s hair and fashion it into pompoms.