The thing about fuzzies is that they’re only adorable until they open their mouths. They’re actually ferocious carnivores, with dozens of sharp canines. Basically, just floofs with teeth. And don’t even get me started on a fuzzy’s growl. It’d put a tiger to shame. A Yeti, too.
I warn Mini to stay far, far away. Don’t want her losing a finger. Or a limb. Even if she is a lying thief. Then I make sure the containment spell gives her the run of the apartment. Just in case her makeover spell runs out, and she wants to admire herself in the mirror—or you know, needs to pee. Then, I grab a quick snack from the fridge and head to the Silver Stein Brewery.
The cleanup is pretty uneventful—if you don’t count being told I can’t, under any circumstances, touch any of the spilled spelled beer. Try repeating that five times in a row. But there’s no sign of a thief, since Mini’s safely locked up at my place, and I’m done in record time.
My next stop is Silver Skates, the new outdoor ice rink that everyone in town is talking about. As I drive, I think about how Amber injured her ankle and roll my eyes. After so many magical screwups, Julian should just stop using his powers. But the guy just doesn’t give up.
Then again, I already got betrayed by Ghost once, and I just let him get to me. Again. So which one of us is the real fool?
Plus, a few of Julian’s spells did work out really well. Even if they weren’t intentional. Like the spelled pumpkin spice lattes that helped so many people in this town find their mates—Amber and her guys included. Or the paperback that helped Amber’s sister, Violet, and a dozen other women find theirs.
For a split second, I wonder if that’s why Ghost is back. Did Julian move on to spelling Mood Teas? Or cleaning supplies?
Except there’s no way an asshole like Ghost would be my mate. Just thinking about him makes me feel like he left some of his invisible magic behind, and it’s squeezing my heart like a vise. Luckily, Ghost’s magic stays within a few feet of him at all times, so the best way to shake this off is not to think about the man.
I focus on the job at the ice rink instead. The rink had a soft opening back in December, right before Christmas, for the locals to enjoy. And Wes managed to snag the contract for the Cleanly Den right away. It also let him hire his brother, Nyle. Who, come to think of it, started with us part-time a few weeks ago. Right before all the robberies began.
I frown.
I know Mini’s the thief—even if she keeps denying it—but what if I’m wrong? Could Wes’s baby brother be involved? Unlike his other brother, Nole, who works at the library and is mated to Violet, Nyle’s been unemployed since high school. Hearing Wes talk about him, I don’t think the guy does anything with his life except play video games, fish, prank his brothers, and lounge around in bear form. He’s never had a steady income—or any income—and he’s never wanted to work at the Cleanly Den before. So why now? Is he finally growing up? Or did he decide to rob some stores for easy money instead of earning an honest wage?
I shake my head.
The culprit is obviously Mini. The only reason she’s denying it is that she’s a seasoned liar. Everyone knows that. And I bet now that I’ve got her under magical lock and key at my place, the robberies will stop. And on the tiny off chance that they don’t, I’ll broach the topic with Wes.
The ice rink is closed for the night by the time I arrive. I pull into the lot and look for Ember’s car, since she’s often out here practicing late at night. But it’s just my luck that the one time I could use someone to talk to other than Shifter Roulette Amber, she isn’t here. And, no, it doesn’t escape me that my closest friends are named Amber and Ember.
I pull into the closest spot in the empty lot and check the inventory on my phone to make sure I grab the right supplies, and get to work. I’m still not in the mood for fancy magic—which says a lot. I work quickly and efficiently, and finish in record time. It’s not even 1am when I’m done and have all my cleaning supplies packed up in the van. Heading back to the apartment to hang out with Mini really doesn’t sound all that fun. Plus, there’s a huge, empty ice rink calling my name.
It’s a beautiful winter night. The stars are out, and snowflakes fall lightly onto the ice. For a split second, I wish I had someone to share all this with. Which makes me think of Ghost. Which makes me want to strangle Ghost. And I’m not quite so lonely anymore. In fact, I don’t want anything to do with a guy. Ever again.
I head straight for the skate rental shack, unlock it with my key, and look for a pair I can use. They’re actually all exactly the same. They magically transform and resize to mold to their wearer’s foot. It’s how shifters can keep skating, even if their feet suddenly change into paws. And how chameleons keep them on even if they shift forms.
I reach for the first pair I see, but another one further down into the shed draws my gaze. It’s got a splash of neon green paint on the right shoe, near the blade, and a ripped shoelace on the left. But that’s not why I pick it up. It’s the magical glow that makes it stand out among the rest.
The magic is oddly familiar, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was Julian’s. Okay, fine, it is Julian’s. Which makes this the pair he spelled to help Amber figure skate.
I should probably throw it out before it hurts anyone else, but I can’t say I’m not curious. And if his magic goes haywire, I can always levitate, take the things off, and dump them in the trash then.
I don’t bother with the change rooms, since I’m not planning a wardrobe change, and head to the bleachers. I make it halfway before I spot a man sitting in the bleachers. A man who definitely wasn’t there when I went to get my skates.
Chapter Six
Zoe
I freeze mid-step, wondering for a second if I should leave. I didn’t plan on sharing the rink, but maybe this is just the kind of distraction I need.
The man is heart-stoppingly hot, in a rugged sort of way. Tall, broad-shouldered, with strong cheekbones and a reddish blond beard. And he’s a hockey player, no less.
He’s got a red Silver Springs Blades duffel bag on the bench next to him, he’s wearing a Blades jersey and he’s pulling on some professional-looking skates. Skates that put my rentals to shame.
My best guess is he’s here for some late night practice, though it’s beyond me why someone would want to skate in the middle of the night.
I glance down at my rental skates and mentally roll my eyes. I’m here to skate in the middle of the night, too, but that’s different. I’ve got a Mini-infested apartment I’m trying to avoid. If that isn’t a solid reason, I don’t know what is.
The man doesn’t seem to notice me, so I grab a bench some distance away and covertly take him in.
I’ve never been into hockey—or hockey players, for that matter—but there’s something hot about a man wearing a jersey. And lucky for me, supes always wear uniforms, even during practice.
Unlike human jerseys, supe ones are spelled to resist wear or tear. Nothing clings to them. Not dirt, or sweat, or smells. And if that’s not reason enough to wear one twenty-four-seven, they’re spelled to protect against injury. Not all injury—that would be near impossible—but all the common ones you see on ice. And when players run the risk of getting hexed or tossed by a bear, they need all the help they can get.