A Southern Charms Cozy Potluck Box Set Page 22

  Turning around, I gazed at the house. Too many emotions mixed inside me. It would take time for me to feel normal again. Or maybe, my sense of normal might be shifted forever. And that might not be a bad thing.

  Biddy squawked in my ear, and I scratched her head. “You ready to fly? Yeah, me too.”

  She nudged my head with the tip of hers, and without another sound, she flapped her wings and took off into the air. My heart soared with her, and I shaded my eyes to watch her free form until she disappeared into the horizon.

  Epilogue

  I admired my reflection in the mirror, more satisfied with my appearance than the first time I'd worn my mother's altered dress.

  Alison Kate continued to fuss with my hair. “I like it pinned up, but it’s a bit formal. Maybe we should take it down for tonight?”

  “Ali Kat, you’ve already put it up and taken it down five times. It looks good no matter what you do to it, and I appreciate your efforts. But everybody's going to think that the curse still has me if I don't get down to the party eventually.” I winked at her in the mirror.

  My friend backed away and inspected my hair. “We’re leaving it up,” she said with determination.

  “Good choice.”

  “That dress looks fabulous on you, by the way. Patty Lou does some good work.” Alison Kate made me twirl around.

  I slipped on a pair of high heels. “She can create magic with a needle, that's for sure.”

  Loki did his best to trip me at the top of the stairs. Peaches took over that job halfway down, wrapping herself around my ankles. I picked her tiny body up and held her under my chin to feel her gentle purring.

  “You keep your claws out of the silk. My sweet little Peach Cobbler Yum Yum Fuzzy Pants wouldn't hurt my mother’s dress, would she? No, she wouldn’t,” I cooed at my orange kitten.

  Nana met me at the bottom of the stairs. “That's a pretty big name for such a small little creature.”

  “Trust me, she'll grow into it.” I rubbed Peach’s orange fuzzy face against mine and set her down. Music wafted in from the backyard. “Is the rest of the gang here?”

  “They’re out back, eating food and waiting for you along with a few others,” she said, leading the way.

  I watched her take charge, directing people. At some point, I would have to muster the courage to ask her what she knew about Tipper and my adoption. But we were supposed to be celebrating, not digging up more information. My curiosity could take the night off.

  Fairy lights twinkled over the entire lawn, most of them pink. Friendly faces cheered for me when I stepped into the backyard. Nana had gone all out with the celebration. Two tables spilled over with food, enough to feed most of Honeysuckle. Our invited guests quieted down and waited for someone to say something.

  “I think they want you to make a speech, Nana,” I whispered to my grandmother.

  “No, sweet bird. They want to hear from you.” She patted my back.

  A shyness crept over me, and no spell would lessen my embarrassment. I panicked, unable to think of anything to say.

  My grandmother whispered back, “When in doubt, keep it short and sweet.”

  Short and sweet. I could handle that. “Everybody,” I began. My voice caught in my throat when all eyes gazed at me. I scanned the crowd to find those who gave me courage.

  Goss floated beside Flint, her fluttering wings dusting her husband in pink. My gaggle of girls hugged each other close as they waited. Ben stood off to the side, but his eyes tracked Lily’s movement. And Alison Kate held Lee’s attention. At some point, I would have to help those boys find a clue so that my friends might have a chance to be happy together.

  Matt hugged TJ around the waist, his chin resting on her head. With an admiring nod to me, Patty Lou joined her husband Steve behind the tables of food. And Mason stood at the back, wearing a nice suit and tie. He winked at me, his eyes shining in approval. His presence gave me a strange sense of strength. He'd done so much for me, and yet, I'd never had the chance to thank him. Since the night at Tipper’s house, he’d never given me one.

  With a cough, I started again. “I’d like to thank you for your support. I couldn't have been here tonight without it.” I looked directly at the detective. “I owe y'all my life.”

  Mason looked down at the ground, slipping his hands into his pockets. I scanned the crowd but couldn't find Dash. The wolf shifter still hadn't forgiven me.

  “Charli,” my grandmother prompted.

  “I guess I should say, thanks a lot, and let's enjoy ourselves tonight.” Everyone whooped and hollered while the music resumed.

  After much food and drink filled our stomachs, we all got down to some serious dancing. It seemed like everyone wanted to make up for me missing the barn dance, and I got passed from partner to partner.

  My brother teased me during a slow song, and my friends and I stirred up the dirt during a rousing one. Sweat trickled down my brow and the back of my neck, and I couldn't be happier or more carefree. Tonight was the perfect way to celebrate my life, say a proper goodbye to Tipper, and get on with things.

  “May I have this dance?” Mason held out his hand to me. I placed mine in his and allowed him to lead me.

  “I meant what I said.” I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Thank you,” I murmured into his warm body.

  “My pleasure, ma'am,” he chuckled.

  “You seem to be picking up some of our customs, sir.”

  “What can I say? I'm starting to feel at home.”

  My heart picked up the pace. “Before long, you’ll be developing an accent,” I teased. “And a serious addiction to sweet tea.”

  He pulled back so he could look at me. “As long as it's sweetened with honeysuckle syrup, right?”

  With savvy moves, he twirled me out, showing off the movement of my mom’s dress. With a slight yank on my hand, he led me back to him and pulled me in close to his chest, rocking us back and forth.

  “May I cut in,” a deep voice rumbled behind me.

  Mason broke away from me, his jaw clenched. But he nodded once and handed me off to Dash.

  The wolf shifter rocked me back and forth, his steps awkward and not as coordinated. He wore a nice shirt and clean jeans, and his beard smelled like cologne.

  After the second time he stepped on my foot, he stopped. “I’m no good at this.”

  “You don't have to be,” I reassured him. “It's just a dance. Two people figuring out a way to move together through a song.

  “Yeah, well, I've never been good at moving with anybody,” he complained. “Would you mind if I showed you something?”

  I stopped dancing. “You're being very mysterious, Mr. Channing.”

  A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes. “I thought you liked mysteries, Charli Bird.”

  “Only my closest friends and family use that nickname.”

  Taking my hand, he pulled me out of the crowd of my friends. Once we were out of sight of the others, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “And what do I qualify as?”

  I still hadn’t come up with an answer to that question. “I’m not sure yet.”

  We made our way to the front of the house. Sitting beside the front porch steps was a shiny new bicycle.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  Dash placed his hands in his pockets and kicked at the dirt. “I wanted to surprise you with Old Joe. But it seems that my temper tantrum did more damage than I thought. It's going to take some time to fix your father's bike.”

  I touched the handles and rang the little bell on it. “You do know that this is a bicycle, not a motorcycle, don't you?”

  He lifted an eyebrow at me. “You’ve seen what's in my garage. Of course, I know the difference. But I wanted you to have this to get around temporarily until I can fix Old Joe. And then, maybe you’d honor me by riding with me.”

  The thought of riding side-by-side on some road far away sounded tempting. Of course, if Dash asked me to, I’d ride behind him on hi
s motorcycle any day.

  “So am I forgiven?” the wolf shifter asked in a quieter voice. “I shouldn’t have left.”

  “No. You shouldn’t have. You should have stayed and been there for me. That’s what friends do. They have each other’s backs.” A little bit of my frustration I’d bottled up came spilling out.

  He winced. “I know. I just figured that you’d be better off if I wasn’t around.”

  “You were wrong,” I said. “Because I almost didn’t make it.”

  His eyes flashed amber in the dark. “I would have killed that man if he hadn’t taken that privilege away from me. Seeing you under his hands…”

  “Trust me, it was no picnic for me,” I joked with a weak smile.

  Dash frowned. “I don’t ever want to see you like that again.”

  “Oh, you won’t. There are a bunch of people standing in my backyard that are determined to make sure I stay safe and out of trouble from here on out.” I jutted my thumb to the back of the house.

  “And yet, why do I get the feelin’ that trouble will come find you anyway, Charli Goodwin?” He managed a smile but stopped himself. “Listen, I would completely understand if you never wanted to talk to me again. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

  “But I would hold it against me. I got a small glimpse of what life is like for those on the outside. And it can be a cold, lonely existence. Nobody deserves that, Dash. Especially you.”

  With a growl, he scooped me up and twirled me around.

  “What are you doing?” I huffed through my hysterical giggles.

  “I’m dancing.”

  “Put me down, you crazy man.” I slapped his back and kicked my feet.

  He dropped me with great care. When my feet hit the ground, my head stayed in the air, a little dizzy and confused.

  Nana appeared out of nowhere on the front porch. “Young lady, you've got guests to attend to. Get your behind back there. You too, Dashiel Thaddeus Channing.”

  The wolf shifter’s mouth dropped. “How did she find out?”

  I couldn’t hold back my mirth. “Small town. No secrets. And that woman has her ways.”

  “You Goodwin women,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Y’all movin’ your feet yet?” Nana called out.

  “Yes, ma'am,” the two of us replied in unison.

  My grandmother narrowed her eyes at us as we passed by, but her smile gave her amusement away.

  When we returned to the backyard, Dash squeezed my arm and left my side. He joined Steve behind the tables of food, choosing a private conversation rather than mixing with the noisy crowd.

  Mason stood on the other side of the yard, drinking sweet tea and watching me. He lifted his glass in the air and saluted me. I stood in the middle, not ready to make any big decisions tonight. Giving into the music and the call of my friends, I rejoined the party and left the next mystery for tomorrow.

  Dear Reader -

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  Fried Chicken & Fangs: Book 2 is ready to be one-clicked!

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  Fried Chicken & Fangs: Book 2

  Preface

  The story of Fried Chicken & Fangs occurs after the Southern Charms short Lemonade & Love Potions, formerly included in the Hexes & Ohs Anthology, where failed cupid Skeeter Jones throws a singles mingle event that goes slightly wrong.

  Reading the short isn’t necessary, but it will enhance your experience in enjoying Southern Charms Cozy Mystery Book 2.

  Chapter One

  “I hate you.” I glared at Blythe, sitting down next to me, smugness radiating off her.

  The bright sun’s rays beat down on us, giving me a powerful hankerin’ for some sweet tea. But even some of the delicious nectar of the South might not improve my mood.

  “Next time, maybe you should volunteer to be on the committee. Then you might not get stuck doing something you don’t want to do. Here.” One of my closest friends and longtime confidantes pushed a tall cup with a lid and straw into my hand. “Maybe this will make it all better and stop your sulking.”

  I had been one of the biggest supporters of making changes to Honeysuckle Hollow, and I counted the idea to add a Saturday market open to the magical community at large surrounding our small isolated town as one of my better contributions…behind the scenes. But I would figure out who volunteered my behind to sit at a table with a sign labeled Lost & Found. I would find them, and then I would hex their hiney into the next century.

  “Not likely,” I pouted. “Who’s bright idea was it to put me in charge of this?” I tore off the sign and waved it in front of my friend’s face.

  Blythe made little effort to stifle a chuckle. “Someone said that at other farmers’ and flea markets they’ve visited, there’s always a Lost & Found table. We wanted to be like all the others.”

  “But who decided to make me be in charge of it?” I narrowed my eyes at her. I didn’t know how a table like mine worked at markets outside in the human world, but I had a nagging suspicion how it would turn out with me and my tracking powers in charge of things.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Not my place to tell. If you want to join the committee—”

  “I am not going to join a group with that name,” I interrupted.

  “Aw, come on. You know that’s not the official name. That’s what Henry calls us whenever he hangs out at Harvest Moon,” protested my friend.

  “He calls you POOP. Posse Of Open Progress. Nobody should volunteer to be a part of POOP. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Names are important.” Taking a sip of sweet tea, I slumped into the back of my chair, giving side eye to the few people lingering in front of my table and reading the sign that Blythe had put back in place.

  “The committee doesn’t have a name. It’s just a group of us the council put together to discuss and help implement new ideas and changes to our sleepy little Southern community. With the upcoming election for the new council seat, you know things are gonna get tense around here.” Blythe looked over at the gazebo where others were setting up for the candidate speeches later that evening.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Whenever Nana’s stressed, she cooks and bakes up a storm. She’s sent so much good food home with me to Tipper’s house, I haven’t had to fire up the stove once.”

  “Not Tipper’s house. Your house. You need to get used to saying that. It’s been long enough, honey bun.” My friend rubbed my back. “How’s the clean out going, by the way?”

  “It’s gonna take me a long time to go through all of my great-uncle’s things. I don’t want to throw anything out that has value.” I sighed at the thought of the daunting task. “Beau has actually been a big help.”

  When I’d offered the plump older vampire and former best friend to my great-uncle the opportunity to continue to stay and live in the house as my roommate, I would have never guessed how much I would appreciate his presence. And not just for his cheerful willingness to sort through all of the stuff that Tipper had hoarded, although my occasional and usually empty threats to kick him out might have been an influencing factor.

  Blythe pointed at something. “Uh-oh. Incoming.”

  Skeeter Johnson bobbed and fluttered in our direction until he hovered up and down in front of us, his wings working overtime to hold up his plump cherub body. The disgraced and unemployed cupid’s hangdog face drooped with even more disappointment than usual. “Excuse me, Miss Charli. But I could use your help findin’ something.” He pointed at the sign.

  “What’s missing?” I asked. “Did you lose something here at the market?”

  He shook his head, the trucker’s hat he wore on top of
his messy curls shaking off-center. “No, no, Miss Charli. I mean, I could use your skills to help me find a specific item that I seem to have misplaced.” He cast his eyes to the ground in shame.

  My heart took pity on the poor fella, and I sighed. “Fine. What is it you lost?”

  His eyes brightened at my willingness to help. “You see, I have an interview coming up. The supervisor of Cupid Local 303 is willing to reinstate me on a probationary basis.”

  “That’s great. Congratulations.” Unable to clap him on the back due to his wings, I held up my fist for him to bump.

  He stared at my hand, unwilling to accept my praise, his lower lip trembling. “Except, I lost my quiver.” He wrung his small hands together in worry, his eyes darting around to make sure nobody heard his shame.

  Having had experience with one of his disasters, I pushed the tiny troublemaker. “Just the quiver? Or what goes inside it as well?”

  Any cupid worth his or her salt needed their official equipment. On top of that, having a Cupid's arrow out in the open for anyone to find meant trouble with a capital T. The little bugger blushed and averted his eyes in response. Pixie poop.

  I stood up, stopping Blythe from yelling at the helpless guy. “Okay, Skeeter. Give me your hand, and I'll see what I can do.” I concentrated and gathered my energy and focus, waiting for the touch of his skin.

  For a few months, I had been working on building my tracking skills, or birddoggin’ as my late great-Uncle Tipper used to call it. Before that, I had left my hometown to learn from others with magical talents like mine. When I'd first returned, my practice time got waylaid by a teeny tiny little death curse that almost killed me. My skin had grown much tougher to the odd stares and occasional whispers. Still, after details of how I’d helped solve my great-uncle’s murder leaked, most everybody at least respected my peculiar magic.

  With the cupid’s hands clasped in mine, I gave him instructions to help me. “Picture the items you want. It might help to think about where they were the last time that you saw your things? You got that in your mind?”