Page 10 of Shift of Heart (Shifter Lords #1)

Chapter

Eight

O ne week had passed since the Shifter Lord had come into my shop, and I was just starting to calm down after his visit. If he’d recognized me, something would have come of it by now. Even Moira had been as nervous as a cat around tin foil, completely unlike her.

A shout of dismay came from the back. Moira and I glanced at each other in alarm and hurried toward the sound.

Ash stood in front of the flower cooler holding the remains of the metal door—the door usually hinged to keep the cooler closed. He stared at it with dismay.

I cleared my throat. “Ash?”

He jerked and blinked. “Err. Hey. Umm. This is not what it looks like.”

Moira snorted. “So, it’s not you holding the cooler door that you apparently ripped off the hinges like some kind of wooden superhero?”

Ash sighed. “Well. Yes. Then I guess it’s exactly what it looks like.” He gently set the door against the wall with a booming thud. “I’ve been chilling those bonsais for weeks now, and it was time to collect them.” He shook his head. “I got so excited I forgot my own strength.”

I’d forgotten about how strong he was, too. Ash was always so kind and gentle I sometimes forgot he was a male dryad. He had the strength of a mighty oak and the occasional stubbornness to match.

“I’ll replace it,” he said. “Until then, I think I can rig it up to keep the cool air in.” He grimaced. “I hope.”

The tainted wedding bouquet was in there. Allowing it to thaw wasn’t a good idea. “I’ll call some repair places today. Until then, see what you can do.”

The dryad nodded, misery all over his face. I reached out and pulled him in for a hug. “Not your fault. Whenever you think it is, just remember the Great Pothos Debacle of 2023.”

That got a chuckle out of him.

I’d still been learning how to juggle my mixed magic when my Floromancy went wild.

Every single pothos I had in the shop grew several feet and tangled everything up in vines.

They grew so fast and so long, they’d broken the front door and the main window.

We’d taken several thousands of dollars in damages and had to explain to a group of handsome, confused firefighters that we were developing a new fertilizer for the market, but the experiment had gone awry.

Pretty sure they didn’t believe us, but since we hadn’t hurt anyone and damaged nothing except my own property, they helped us sweep up the glass and let us be.

“Moira banned pothos up until this year,” Ash reminisced with a hearty laugh.

“Moira should have banned them forever,” the vampire muttered. “I still get PTSD flashbacks when I walk past one.”

We helped Ash carry out his bonsais before assisting with the replacement of the door. It didn’t seal all the way, but it should be okay until we got a repairman in.

“No one opens this door again without a buddy,” I lectured, making my voice loud enough for Tess to hear.

The banshee’s sad moan of agreement filtered back to us.

I slapped the dust from my hands and headed toward the front, making a mental note to set aside the funds for the repairman.

We stood around the phone waiting for it to ring. A lot rode on this call. At first, when Mr. Jeffers started contacting the shop, no one thought anything of it. Every two weeks, he ordered a huge seasonal bouquet for delivery to an address about twenty miles away, far away from the downtown area.

We all, like the emotional saps we were, assumed the flowers were for his wife.

Joy Springs was full of paranormals. Few of them were dumb enough to cheat on their wives, simply because the wives were just as deadly as their husbands.

There was no way to tell what Mr. Jeffers was—human or paranormal—so we assumed he was a good dude being a great husband.

Oh, how wrong we were.

Moira took the calls at first, and I’d work putting the bouquets together for delivery. Every time, he’d ask for a different message on the card. Most messages were sweet, but over time, things had gotten progressively spicier. Again, no big deal.

But then, a woman came into the shop looking for some flowers for a vow renewal cake. Her last name was Jeffers. One of the big rules in our shop was to never, ever speak about any past orders or deliveries if a spouse came in.

For this exact reason.

Also, Jeffers wasn’t a rare name, but Tess had spotted a picture of the woman’s husband when the wife opened her wallet, and it was the same guy we Googled when we got curious about all of those deliveries.

However, she gave us a completely new address that got us curious, and we’d huddled around as Tess accessed some website that gave us a bird’s-eye view of the address the husband had given us and then the apartment address the wife gave us.

So we were nosy. Sue us. We had to do something to keep things lively around the shop, and this one ended up being way more interesting than we could stand once we brought up the property records for the first house and linked it to a powerful mage with suspected ties to organized crime.

Ash guessed the home was a paranormal brothel and Mr. Jeffers was availing himself of the talents there, showing his appreciation through bi-weekly flower donations, in addition to the no doubt substantial amount of money he was dropping there.

Moira thought Mr. Jeffers had a single mistress who was either one of the workers or the Madame who ran the place.

Tess was more into the investigating part of it and didn’t care a whit what Mr. Jeffers was or wasn’t doing. She wasn’t great at board games, either, but that was Tess.

I, after thoroughly researching the house, thought he wasn’t cheating and maybe the woman we thought was his wife might be a familial relation. Everyone groaned at that because, and I quote, “Seriously, Evie, where is your sense of drama?!” So, we decided to make a bet.

If Mr. Jeffers was cheating, Moira had to wear the enchanted bee suit, and Ash had to turn into a Honeycrisp apple tree and grow enough apples for a week.

Ash grumbled about it because he hated when we used him for his fruit growing abilities. Moira balked at the thought of wearing that suit around, but was so convinced she was right, she finally agreed.

I kept the suit in a locked closet because it was a huge distraction.

And a little terrifying. Originally designed by Marnie and Twila, the owners of the cafe I loved so much, as protective gear to wear while they maintained their poison garden, the enchantment had gone.

..wrong. They’d offered it to me, and I’d accepted because I had a soft spot for the weird and faulty.

The phone rang.

Moira hip checked me. I swore and stumbled over a potted plant, landing on my tailbone.

“Moira!”

She gave me a fanged grin and snatched up the phone. “Little Shop of Florals, this is Moira. How may I assist you with your floral needs today?”

Tess waved a hand, and the speakerphone turned on. Moira shot her a dark look. I stuck my tongue out at her and pulled myself up with the help of the edge of the counter.

“Hello, Moira. This is Wayne Jeffers. I’m calling to place my weekly order, but I wondered if there’s any way you could have it done and delivered today. For a generous rush fee, of course.”

Moira grimaced and looked my way.

I gave her a thumbs up and a wicked grin. After that dirty play by Moira, I’d do anything to see her miserable in that bee suit.

She paled at the look in my eyes. “Err. Of course we can. What would you like, sir?”

Mr. Jeffers rattled off an ambitious flower order. We charged him an arm and a leg to have it done and delivered today, and when he hung up, I clapped my hands together. “We’re all doing the delivery today, so no one can cheat.”

Moira gasped in mock offense. “I would never.”

Tess burbled a warbly laugh. “No one wins Park Place and Boardwalk every single game of Monopoly.”

Ash laughed. “True story.”

“I’m heading to the back to get this done. We’ll leave right when the shop closes. Tomorrow morning, first thing in the a.m., Moira is in the bee suit, and Ash is apple central.” Tomorrow was going to be epic.

“Hardly,” Moira scoffed. “I can’t wait to see you trying to handle cash wearing that thing.”

But I knew in my bones I was going to win. “I guess we’ll see.” Flicking my hands, I waved them away. “Everyone back to work. We’ve got two hours before quitting time.”

The team rarely did deliveries together. Tess and Ash were crammed in the backseat, each holding on to one side of the massive basket of flowers I’d made for Mr. Jeffers.

I was in the driver’s seat, and Moira quivered with anticipation in the passenger seat.

“You really outdid yourself with this one,” Ash commented. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Thanks!” I’d added a few extras in because I was feeling generous.

The basket spilled over with roses, daisies, peonies, baby’s breath, and numerous other flowers.

A heady fragrance rose in the air, calming my nerves as we exited the highway.

Fredericksburg and the surrounding areas didn’t usually have a ton of traffic, but I’d always been a nervous driver.

There was something about being responsible for a two-ton vehicle while also being responsible for everyone and everything else in the vehicle with you and ensuring you stayed alert for anyone outside of the vehicle making mistakes.

I preferred taking my bicycle for most deliveries, but some, like this one, required a vehicle. Moira offered to drive, but I declined. Getting over my fear required immersive therapy. Even if my knuckles were bone white as they clenched the steering wheel.

“You can afford a driver, you know,” Moira said quietly, as I took a corner going about 15 miles per hour.

The temp dropped about ten degrees—Tess’s way of silently agreeing. I’d never heard her wail, and I hoped I never would, because being in an enclosed space with her required sweaters and sometimes gloves. Hearing a full-on banshee wail might require a healer.