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She ended the call and tucked her phone into her bag. Her shoulders slumped and she gripped the straps. Of their own accord, her eyes turned down Sherwood Boulevard, in the direction of the ash-haired man and his two friends. Foolish to think he’d be waiting for her somewhere up the road. Foolish to believe the gods would ever grant her a man of her own.

No.

They’d gifted her with a knack for finding everyone else a perfect match. A perfect mate. Her talents were whispered far and wide. She answered calls and inquiries through emails, traveling here and there to try and find some lonely creature their one true love.

It wasn’t easy at times. Heck, it wasn’t easymostof the time. But the moment two people came together and that spark flared?

It made all her efforts worth the struggle.

Those of inhuman origins called her the Mystical Matchmaker, while those without magical abilities considered her a miracle worker.

All in all, she had the gift to make everyone around her happy—and lacked all the power in the world to experience that happiness herself.

Here she stood, at the corner of Tabby and Sherwood, the sea at her back assaulting her senses, answering the call of her friend.

For Annise, she’d swim across that wretched sea, face down the sea fae and their belligerence, all for the sake of making her friend happy.

She’d do her part, do what she did best. Hopefully make her one-hundredth match and avoid catastrophe.

Somewhere in Cat’s Paw Cove resided a male placed on this Earth for her friend alone. Annise swore she’d found him, a man she started dating only a couple of weeks ago, but who was, without a doubt, her mate.

Niera just had to confirm the match before the prophetic dream from last night came to fruition.

Before the first snowflake fell from the sky.

Before all hope of future happiness for her was lost, and her gift became a curse.

* * *

Alistair Cummings glancedover his shoulder for the umpteenth time, pining after the strange woman with the mahogany hair and shocking honey eyes. He had no explanation for why he felt so drawn to the stranger except for her attractive petite frame and almost pixie-like features, and something in the energy that poured off her skin.

He’d crossed a few pixies in his time at Cat’s Paw Cove. His friend was dating one, or so Alistair believed. She definitely had something faery-ish about her.

“Hey, bud, where you at?”

Brayden Conner knocked him in the shoulder, jolting his thoughts from the woman. The sweet briny air called to him like the sun on his skin, cocooning him in its embrace. He lived for the water, the ocean, the waves. Lived for the feel of salt on his skin and the rightness of the blue abyss. He passed most of his days paddling on a surfboard or diving around the reefs, waiting for the day he could return to his home.

“Right here with you,” Alistair said, flashing his friend an unwavering smile. “Think we’ll have full classes today with the dip in the temperature?”

Brayden shrugged one of his thick shoulders and smirked. “Dude, we’ll make good use of the time on the water. Always do.” His dark brows shot up beneath his dark spill of shaggy bangs, flattened by the baseball cap he wore like a teen. “Why?” He wagged those brows. “Chick got your tongue?”

Alistair laughed. “Yeah, like that’ll happen. I broke my own record with the last gal, making it four months before she took off. Women in the age bracket I’m looking for don’t care for beach bums.”

“Maybe you need to divulge your reasons for being beach bum material.” Brayden twirled a hand in the air, cutting him off before he could mutter a word of comment or protest. “Then again, they wouldn’t understand.”

And therein lay the problem he faced with every relationship, or attempted relationship.

Women wanted men with secure jobs. Financially-fit futures.

All he could offer was the promise of happiness, protection, and a life by the ocean, and it would only be a temporary life, at that.

He never divulged his history to anyone, including his friends. He kept his funds—what wasn’t tucked away in the reefs—safely hidden at the local bank. His friends speculated where his money came from, casually teasing him about a trust fund or an impressive lottery win. They had no idea what he concealed from them.

“Know her?” Brayden asked, shooting a look over his own shoulder. “Haven’t seen her in these parts.”

“Between tourists and newcomers, I don’t keep up. But no.” He’d never forget a woman like her. “Never seen her before.”

“Hmm. Wonder if she’s hanging around for a bit. Maybe we can track her down after the minnows class.”