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Chapter one

Mika

“Mary Ellen Thompson, what are you doing?”

The last thing I expected to see when I walked into the butler’s pantry was my eighty-three-year-old employer standing on top of a stepstool, stretching to reach something.

“I’m having people over for tea today, and I was trying to reach my tiered platter.”

“Well, get down from there and let me get it. That’s what I’m here for.”

“I’m perfectly capable of getting it myself.”

“Oh really? And what do you think your physical therapist would have to say about you climbing stepstools?” She’d had a hip replacement a few months ago, and the last thing she needed was a fall.

“Fine then, you get it, but be careful and support it from the bottom. It’s old like me, and I’m not sure how well it’ll hold up if you don’t.”

I held my breath until her feet were firmly on the ground, and then I climbed up the stepstool and oh-so-carefully took down the serving platter. “Is there anything else you need that you can’t reach?” I asked.

“Not that I can think of, but we’ll be having tea in the conservatory. Could you be a dear and light the fireplace so it can warm up?” Mary Ellen asked.

“Of course. I’ll go do that now, but I’ll be right back. No climbing while I’m gone.” I crossed the foyer and went down the hallway to the conservatory, chuckling to myself.

A conservatory. I didn’t even know conservatories were real things until I came to work here. A room in the board game my sister had loved to play when we were kids, sure, but I didn’t think real houses had them. Of course, I’d never been in a house like this one before I came to work for the Thompsons.

This wasn’t just any house—it was one of the oldest homes in the city and sat in one of the most desirable neighborhoods in all of Vesper. The portion of Elm Street that ran in front of the house was made of carefully maintained brick and was lined with beautiful antique streetlights. Each house was stately and well-maintained, and you never even saw a for-sale sign go up because there were lists of buyers just waiting for an opportunity to live in the neighborhood. This particular home had been in the Thompson family for generations and would go to Mary Ellen’s niece, Vivian, when she passed away since she and her husband had never had children.

I got a fire going and then headed back to see what else she needed me to do. “The fire’s going. What else can I do to help?”

“I ordered some lovely finger sandwiches and desserts from Apertivo. They should be delivered any minute. But while we wait, we can get the table all set.”

“Do you know which dishes you want to use?” I asked. She had some of the most beautiful china I’d ever seen to choose from.

“I was trying to decide between this set and this one.” She pointed at one set that had a dark red rim with beautiful roses and another set with blue trim and yellow flowers. I didn’t know much about china, but I could tell, like everything else here, they were valuable.

“Why don’t you mismatch them?”

She got a thoughtful expression on her face and then smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea, and it’ll be so pretty with the centerpiece.”

“How many people are coming to the tea?”

“Four plus me, so there will be five of us in total. Which is perfect. Everyone can have a different pattern.” She gave me a fond smile and patted my arm. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mika.”

“Right back at you. I mean, seriously, who would teach me to crochet?” I tried to keep it light, but the truth was, I’d been a wreck when I arrived in Vesper two years ago, and she’d been just what I’d needed.

I’d started working for Helping Hands because there were always jobs open, and I needed work fast when I got here with little more than a change of clothes and enough money to rent a room. I hadn’t expected to love the work, but I did, and in those early months when I was alone and afraid, my clients had filled the void and become like my family. Especially the Thompsons. I’d originally been sent to sit with Mr. Thompson, but when he passed away, Mary Ellen asked me to stay on as a companion, so I’d left the agency and gone to work for her privately.

I mostly ran errands for her, helped her out with things around the house, and kept her company. She insisted that having someone around to talk to and lend a hand when she needed it was priceless to her.

“I don’t think you need me to teach you anymore, Mika. I’ve seen your latest project, and I’m pretty sure you could teach me a thing or two. Now, enough of that, let’s get that table set before the food arrives. Then you can take off for the rest of the day.”

“Are you sure? I can stick around and help with the party.”

“I’m sure. The last thing you want to do is hang around and listen to a bunch of old women complain about their latest aches and pains.”

“You just want me to leave so I won’t hear y’all gossiping about Mr. Waddell and his neighbor.”

“Why, Mika Simpson, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But if you want to stay, Marjorie Davis will be happy to tell you all about her grandson, the foot doctor. She’d love to set the two of you up on a date.”

“Now, Mary Ellen, you know I’ve sworn off men, so that’s not going to happen.”

“Not all men are assholes, Mika. Take my David—”

“Your David was one of a kind, and you were the lucky lady who got to spend your life with him. Not all of us are that fortunate.” I knew she meant well. She and David had been a love story for the ages, but experience had taught me that happy ever afters weren’t for me.

“You’ll find your David. I know you will. Now, let’s get everything set up.”

It took us a couple of hours, but by the time the first of her guests arrived, the conservatory looked like it was set for a formal afternoon tea, and she was beaming. Thankfully, Georgette Shirley arrived first, so I was able to make my escape without having to listen to Marjorie take another shot at setting me up with her son. I was sure he was perfectly nice, but even if I wasn’t on a break, he touched feet for a living, and I just couldn’t go there. Call me weird, but feet freaked me out.

Normally, on days I got off work early, I went and hung out with my bestie Andy, but he was on shift at the local fire station today, so I went by my other friend Mars’s shop instead. I went inside, and Zeva was standing behind the counter. “Hey, Mika. You looking for Mars?”

“Yeah, is he around?”

“He’s out in the workshop setting up for a tincture class his mom will be teaching this weekend.”

“Cool. I’ll go see if he needs a hand.” I walked through the shop, out the back door, and down the short path that led to the workshop out back. The door to the shop was standing wide open. I’d never been to one of his classes, but I had to say the vibe fit Mars perfectly. It was bright, cheerful, and welcoming, just like him.

“Oh, hey, Mika.” He grinned at me. “Perfect timing. I’m trying to set up these tables in a U-shape. Wanna help?”

“Sure, why not?”

We got to work, and it didn’t take us long to get both the tables set up and the chairs placed around the outside.

“That went quick with both of us. Thanks. Now, did you need something? I didn’t even ask. I just put you right to work.”

“Nah, I don’t need anything. Mrs. Thompson’s having some friends over for tea today, so I made myself scarce.”

“Great. I was about to order lunch. Do you want something?”

“Did Samuel not send you with lunch today?” Mars and Samuel had been together for months now, and I knew most days, Samuel sent Mars something to eat because he had a bad habit of getting lost in work and not eating properly—something Samuel’s sweet Daddy heart couldn’t tolerate.

“Not today. The fire station had a late call last night, and it was an ugly one, so, as the station chief, Samuel went. That doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, I’m on my own for lunch. So how do tacos sound?”

“Tacos sound good. Want me to run to get them and bring them back, or do you want to leave the shop?”

“Let’s eat there. Zeva can handle things here, and tacos really don’t travel well.”

“True. We can always bring her something back if she wants.”

He closed up the workshop, and we went back inside.

“Hey, Zeva, we’re headed out to get Mexican. Do you want me to bring you something back?”

“Nah, Charlie’s going to bring me something. But why don’t you just call it a day? It’s slow today, and you know you’re going to be up here all day Saturday for your mom’s class.”

“Are you sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure.”

I looked at Mars. “Isn’t this your store?” I teased.

He looked at me and shook his head. “You know, we only pretend it’s mine. Zeva’s the one who really runs the place.”

“Oh, I’m aware, my friend. I’d already figured that out.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Zeva. If you need anything, call me.”

I hadn’t had really good Mexican since I left Las Cruces, so I left our destination up to him. We went to Farolitos because Mars said they had the best food. I’d never been there before, but I was willing to give it a shot.

“Do you want to sit inside or on the patio?” he asked. “The weather is so nice.”

For the first few months after I’d left Butch, I wouldn’t have dreamed of sitting out in the open, but eventually, I realized I was being silly. He had no idea where I was and probably didn’t give a shit anyway. The money I’d taken was a drop in the bucket to him, and finding someone else to slap around wouldn’t have been hard for him either.

“You’re right, it’s a beautiful day. Let’s sit outside.”

A few minutes later, we were seated and had ordered appetizers while we looked over the menu. Our server pushed over a cart and started on our guacamole while we chowed down on the delicious, fresh-made salsa and warm tortilla chips.

When she was done, she put the bowl in the center of the table.

“Dig in, guys. I’ll grab you a fresh bowl of chips and then take your order.”

I took a bite of the tableside guac, and the flavors burst on my tongue.

“Oh my god, this is the best guac I’ve ever tasted.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.” Mars laughed. “Wait until the tacos get here. They’re even better.”

“We’re coming here all the time from now on. How are the margaritas?”

“Out of this world. Want to try one?”

“We should, shouldn’t we?”

“Yep, especially since it seems I have the rest of the day off since Zeva kicked me out of my shop.”

“She did, didn’t she?” I laughed and waved the waitress over so we could order our drinks.

“So what are you doing Thursday night? We’re going to be having a class working with your spirit guides. You should come.”

“I wish I could, but I have self-defense class on Thursday.”

“Really? I didn’t know you were taking self-defense classes.”

“It’s new. Andy talked me into doing it. Gator suggested them back when he was hanging out up here at the shop, but I didn’t have the time or the money until now. I took the first class last week.”

Last fall, there had been a serial arsonist running around town, and Samuel had been worried about Mars, so he hired Gator to keep watch over the shop, and he’d told me about the classes. Andy and I had had a run-in with a jerk out behind his boyfriend Jesse’s club—or I should say I had a run-in, and Andy saved my ass, and that brought back a lot of old fears I thought I’d buried. So when Gator had mentioned the classes, I decided that while the self-defense classes might not make me completely safe, they couldn’t hurt.

“Oh, are those the classes that Hawk’s teaching?” Mars asked, and for a second, I was surprised he would know that, but then I remembered that Hawk and Samuel were close friends.

“They are. I don’t know what I think just yet. The first week, we really just went over stuff like situational awareness and ways to avoid needing what the class teaches. Believe me, I’m totally aware of my surroundings.” You didn’t go through something like what I went through with Butch and not come out hyperaware.

“I think that’s awesome. Hawk knows his stuff, so I’m sure you’ll learn a lot.”

“I hope so. I kind of expected Gator to be teaching the class, but when I got there, it was Hawk. He’s kind of scary.” I swear the man was a full foot taller than me, with muscles for days. At only five foot four, I was used to most guys towering over me, but Hawk was next-level tall.

“Hawk? Nah, he’s a sweetheart.”

“I’m sure he is, but he’s a fucking giant, and he doesn’t have a sense of humor—or at least if he does, I haven’t seen it. He’s all super serious, like each of us in the class are in immediate danger.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that, but he’s hot, so at least there’s that.”

I shrugged like I hadn’t noticed that Hawk was pretty much the hottest guy I’d ever seen. “I guess. He totally isn’t my type, though.” That was a lie.

I’d always been attracted to guys who were bigger and stronger than me—and if they had a little bit of a bad attitude, even better.

But that was the old me. Experience had taught me that guys like that were nothing but trouble. If I ever decided to take another stab at a relationship, I was going for a nice, gentle guy. Men like that might not rev my engine, but they were safe—and there was something to be said for safe.

Our server returned with our drinks and our tacos, saving me from any further questions about my type or about Hawk. I took a sip of the drink and grinned.

“Oh yeah, that’s just what I needed.”

Two hours and four of the strongest margaritas ever later, we tipped our waitress and waited for Mars’s Daddy to come pick us up and take us home.