Page 4

Chapter

Four

brIDGETTE

I couldn’t have counted how many times I pulled that business card out of my pocket just to stare at the name printed there in black ink. Detective Logan Storm. It was a sexy name, fit for the sexy-as-sin detective.

Our whole initial meeting was full of mixed emotions swinging from holy shit; that man is hot to, of course, he only wants to ask me questions because I’m a witch. What would a sexy older detective want to do with me? I mean, he wasn’t that much older than me, at least not more than eight to ten years. It was a reasonable age gap. The worst part of meeting him and having all those emotions flooding me at once was the overriding one screaming at me to get away from him.

As I stood at the register fingering the edges of the business card that was nowhere near as stiff and crisp as it was when Detective Storm had handed it to me, the bell over the door rang. I jerked my head up, caught off guard. The greeting died on my lips as I watched Shayla stride in with her middle finger up and waving in Mildred’s general location. I just shook my head and slipped the card back into my pocket after giving it one last glance.

“Hey, girl,” Shayla called out as she approached. She was wearing one of her Boss Bitch outfits, as she is fond of referring to the pantsuit. It made her already long, lithe body look even more streamlined while showing off her femininity to perfection. My best friend could have been on the runways in Milan.

“Hey, Shay.” I knew my returning smile was weak at best. It was most definitely forced. I started fiddling with the cup of pens next to the register and decided it had been too long since I’d cleaned them. While I reached for a disinfectant wipe under the counter, I saw Shayla’s eyebrows draw together as she watched me.

“Okay, what happened? Do I need to tit punch someone?”

My face brightened as I picked up the first pen and rubbed the wipe over the surface. “You’re the best friend in the whole world.” I shook my head as I grabbed a sparkly purple ballpoint with a matching puffball attached to the cap. It was cute and fun, but germ city. “I blinked down at the pen and then slowly raised my head to look at my best friend. I could feel the first tear track down my cheek as I finally told her my greatest fear. “I think I met my fated mate today.”

It took Shayla a solid five seconds as she stared at me in shock before she burst into action. “Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Tell me everything.” She tossed her purse on the glass and rounded the counter. I fell into her arms as the dam finally broke on my emotions.

Through my sniffles, I relayed the meeting with Logan Storm.

“He isn’t even a little ugly?”

I shook my head ruefully. “No”

“Does he have good hair?”

“Great hair,” I pouted.

“What color eyes does he have?”

“ Gray !” I wailed to the ceiling.

“Oh, damn,” Shayla breathed as she took in my words. Then I felt her fingers brush against mine as she took the purple puff ball pen away from me. I blinked back my tears and looked down to see the destruction I’d caused. Shayla tossed the pen in the garbage can on the floor and started wiping up all the little sparkly strands I had been pulling out of the puffball. “So your mate is hot, has great hair, fantastic eyes, and is a detective. Did he seem like a nice guy? Was he rude or pushy? Did he make you feel uncomfortable in any way?”

I was already shaking my head before she’d completed the question. “We didn’t speak that long, but I never felt any fear or trepidation being alone with a stranger. I did get the impression that he has an alpha-type personality.” I glanced up at Shayla with hopeful eyes. “Alphas are jerks, right? They are bossy and dominant, always trying to make demands? You know I don’t take demands well.”

Shayla cocked her head as she studied me. “Being an alpha male isn’t synonymous with being an asshole. You like him.”

I felt my cheeks flame. My movements felt jerky as I snatched another pen from the cup and reached for another disinfectant wipe. “I don’t even know him.”

Her tone was soft and gentle, an attempt at soothing me as she watched my every movement. “But you want to. I know you’re scared, Bridge. After what happened with your grandmother and then losing your father, you don’t want a fated mate. I understand, and I love you. It’s because I love you and want to see you happy that I’m going to tell you to get over your shit.”

I jerked my head up and stared at my best friend in shock. With wide eyes and my mouth hanging open, I spluttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Finally, I firmed my chin, lifting it in my best impression of a haughty queen. “I beg your finest pardon.”

Shayla sighed. “Sweetie, your sperm donor sucked ass, okay? He was a grade-A douchebag, but if I remember right, your mom said she couldn’t be certain if he was her fated mate because she wasn’t a witch. She fell in love with him on sight, but that isn’t exclusive to fated mates. Ordinary people everywhere fall into love—or lust—at first sight, all the time. Sometimes their relationships work, sometimes they don’t.”

I could feel another tear tracking down my cheek as I took in her words. “The women in my family are cursed, Shay. I don’t want to feel that betrayal. I’ve seen the sadness in their eyes when they talk about the men they lost. They would rather be alone for the rest of their lives than take another chance on a man. I decided long ago that I would skip the heartache and never allow my mate into my life to begin with.”

“I know you did, Bridge. But excuse me when I say this with all the love in my heart for you. You can be hard-headed, stubborn, and hold a grudge. I’m not saying those are all bad things; Karma knows we all love a good grudge, but, my friend, you could also be missing out on the best thing that ever happened to you. You won’t ever know until you put yourself out there and try .”

I sniffed again, half in indignation, half in resignation. “I’m not stubborn.”

Shayla just looked at me, exasperation written all over her gorgeous features. “You went on a hunger strike for three days when your mom wouldn’t let you dye your hair black.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “I was a kid.”

“Honey, you were seventeen. That was only five years ago. When she finally gave in, you hated the color because it washed you out, making you look like a corpse. It’s a good thing she only bought you the temporary dye.”

I tilted my chin up. “My hair, my choice.”

“True, but sometimes you have to weigh the advice you’re given before putting your foot down and making a decision that could potentially cause you harm. Bridge, I want to see you happy. Maybe you’re right, and this fated mate will break your heart and leave you lonely for the rest of your life. But you’ve already decided to be lonely. Would it really be so bad if you had a short time of bliss? And what if there is no curse and that bliss turns into seventy years? You believe in the Fates and Karma and the Goddess. Shouldn’t you give Her a chance that she has something wonderful planned for you?”

My chin dropped to my chest as I took in her words. It was the worst thing to throw away a gift from the Goddess. Even as I thought it, my heart sped up at the thought of giving in and seeing if the detective truly was my fated mate.

“What’s his name?” Shayla asked quietly. I closed my eyes and reached into my apron pocket to withdraw the card. I knew she would immediately see the wear on the card and know how often I’d handled it throughout the day. I placed it softly down on the glass and then slid it over with one finger. A low whistle came from my best friend. “Logan Storm. Wow. Even his name sounds hot.” Yeah, it did. I let out a groan.

“So what’s going on? Are you supposed to call him for something?” She let out a gasp and leaned forward, her eyes bright. “Are you a suspect?”

I laughed and shook my head. “No. But he asked me if I could help him understand rituals and ceremonies. He said he couldn’t tell me anything about the case, but there are things he doesn’t know about witchcraft and needs expert help.”

“So are you supposed to call him?”

I took the card back and flipped it over, showing her where he’d written his personal number on the back. “He told me to call him tonight after I close the shop and we would have dinner while we talked.”

Shayla’s gasp was loud and dramatic. “You have a date with your fated mate! Why didn’t you lead with that?” she demanded.

I shook my head. “It’s not a date. It’s dinner to discuss witchy things.”

“And he couldn’t have asked his questions here, in the store, during business hours?” She gave me an are you that dense look. “Girl.”

“Look, I agreed to help him. But I don’t think I can go further than that. Not right now. Maybe never. I don’t even know if he has a girlfriend or a wife already. Maybe he has a string of girlfriends, or,” I wrinkled my nose, “one night stands. After I get to know him, I’ll think about the future and if I want to give him a chance.” I gave Shayla an imploring look, one that I hoped masked some of my fear. “Please, just let it go. For now.”

With a huff, Shayla finally conceded, nodding her head before giving me a bright smile. “Okay, I’ll stop pushing on one condition.”

I eyed her warily. As stubborn as she claimed I was, my best friend was just as bad, if not worse, than I was when it came to digging in her heels. It was why she was going to be a great lawyer. She wouldn’t quit until she won. “What’s that?”

“If you get too far into your head and start running scared, you talk to me. Or better yet—him. You are smart, brave, beautiful, and a badass witch. You don’t run. Ever . Hear me?”

I swallowed hard at her words, knowing that it was going to be a hard promise to make. I’d done nothing but run scared since I was old enough to understand what fated mates were and how they had hurt the women in my life. I closed my eyes while taking in a deep breath. When I opened them again, it was to see Shayla with an understanding expression but determined eyes. I nodded.

“Okay. I’ll talk it out first before running.”

She gripped my hand in hers, giving it a tight squeeze, letting me know she was with me in this. “Good. Though you do have questionable taste in art.”

I laughed, the comment breaking the tension, allowing me to relax my shoulders. “You know you secretly love Mildred.”

“Hell no. She’s a fucking menace. Though I do like Frank.” We both looked up at the corner where the crow statue was perched near the ceiling on a shelf made just for him. He watched over the store and always let me know when the others got into too much mayhem. He’d been a fixture since Grandmother opened the shop years ago and was the unofficial mascot of Oohs, Ahhhs, and Orbs.

“Now, call your detective and tell him you’re closing, then go freshen up.” She eyed me critically. “I don’t know how you can still look amazing after working all day.”

We walked to the front of the store, where I turned the sign around to close. Then, I leaned in to squeeze her in a big hug. “Are you kidding? You never look less than ready for a runway, even after you’ve been exercising for an hour.”

Shayla winked at me. “Okay, we are just badass women who are beautiful and know our worth. Just like our mamas taught us.” She started to walk out the door but stopped before I could swing it shut. “Call me after your dinner. I don’t care how late it is.” She gave me a dead-eye stare, showing me how serious she was, and I knew I’d be in trouble if I didn’t call.

“Yes, ma’am. I promise to call. Love you!”

“Love you too, girl. Have fun!”

I locked the door, giving one last wave through the glass, and then sighed. Looking around the shop, I felt lost. I was going to have to pull myself together and face my greatest fear. I looked at Mildred, who was grinning at me while giving a little shimmy.

“It’s only dinner. Basically, it’s a business meeting. I can do this.”

Mildred’s wink reminded me an awful lot of Shayla’s, who I was sure would not be pleased at the comparison. I headed toward the back of the room, where the doorway led to the stairs of my small apartment while untying the apron I was wearing. I hung it on a hook next to the wooden table where I did much of my potion work, then paused. Reaching into the pocket, I slid the business card back out.

Mortimer meowed at my feet, rubbing against my leg, knowing he was about to get a plate of his favorite canned food once we got upstairs. I bent down to scratch behind his ears as I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. I would go to dinner, but I was driving myself. After dialing the number written in bold, masculine handwriting, I drew in a fortifying breath as I waited for the call to connect.