A Southern Charms Cozy Potluck Box Set Page 32

  The detective’s face dropped, and he shook it off. With his cool mask of professionalism back in place, he turned to greet the shifter. “Dash.” He stuck out his hand to shake.

  “Mason,” Dash replied. The wolf shifter opened the screen door wide and moved to let the detective walk by.

  “Thank you for your assistance,” Mason said to me over his shoulder.

  “Am I interrupting something?” Dash asked.

  “We’re done here.” Mason left without looking back.

  A butter knife couldn’t cut the tension in the air. The clock ticked every tense second.

  Dash regarded me with wary eyes. “If you don't want to go, I won't be upset.” The glare in his eyes told a different story.

  “Just give me a quick second, and I'll be ready for our,” I paused. “Lunch… thing… picnic.”

  “Then I'll wait right here to take you to our lunch, thing, picnic,” Dash teased. “But hurry up because I'm hungry.” His eyes flashed, and, I swear, he licked his fangs.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The twisting branches of the Founders’ tree dripped with lush strands of Spanish moss. Its leafy canopy offered shade from the hot sun. It surprised me they had picked this location for our lunch, but the low-hanging branches that dipped into and out of the ground did provide a decent place to sit.

  Blythe busied herself arranging the food on a blanket in front of us, the contents so numerous that she almost ran out of room. She hummed out of tune under her breath. She never hummed.

  Damien watched with fascination. “I must admit, I do not recall partaking in a picnic that was so bounteous. Explain to me what we have.”

  Blythe pointed at her contributions. “This one is coleslaw, which is grated cabbage. I also fixed macaroni salad and stole some of Mr. Steve's potato salad as well.”

  The vampire examined each one. “I find it fascinating that you use that word, and yet, I see no green in those dishes.”

  My friend held up a finger. “That's why I made an actual salad salad as well.”

  Damien laughed with enthusiasm, and Dash smiled. I did my best not to mock my friend for her bubbly joke, trying to remind myself that everyone deserved a chance at whatever happiness they found. Even if it changed their personalities.

  The vampire took a sip of his drink and screwed up his face. “I am not sure I will ever get used to that amount of sugar nor having my teeth cold.”

  “I thought you were from London,” Dash remarked. “Isn't that place full tea drinkers?”

  Damien set his cup down, balancing it on the ground. “Yes, of course. But we prefer that it is hot, and usually take either milk or lemon with it depending on what type of tea it is. My particular favorite is the Oolong blend they serve at The Savoy. It is the Queen’s favorite, you know. What kind do you use to make this concoction?”

  “The kind that comes in a bag,” I answered.

  Blythe shot me a look of warning at my sarcastic remark before continuing. “Dash here has provided us with our main course, fried chicken.” She unfolded the red-and-white checkered towel covering the delectable golden brown treat.

  “You made it?” I asked.

  Dash lifted his finger to my chin and closed my mouth. “Don't be so surprised. I have many talents you don't know about.” He placed a couple of pieces on a plate next to the other food he'd already scooped out and handed it to me.

  “And many secrets,” I added.

  “But not as many as I used to keep from you,” he replied in a low voice.

  I stared at his lips. “I kind of like a man who can cook.”

  “Good. Because I like a girl who can bake. I can't wait to get a piece of your pie.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me, and the heat between us almost matched the midday temperature.

  I shoved him in play to break the tension.

  “Try it,” he insisted with enthusiasm and little bit of nerves, waiting for me to taste his contribution.

  I sank my teeth into the slightly warm chicken leg. The crust crackled and flaked in my mouth with good crunch. The meat tasted tender and juicy, almost rivaling my Nana's recipe. “Holy unicorn horn, so good,” I managed through my full mouth.

  Blythe nodded in agreement. “You've got a nice scald on it. Did you brine the meat first?”

  “Of course.” Dash chewed off a piece. “That's my secret.”

  “Buttermilk?” I asked, taking another large bite.

  He shook his head. “Nope. I might as well tell you because you'll never guess. It's sweet tea.”

  “Really? Steve uses buttermilk at the cafe,” Blythe said.

  The shifter swallowed. “My mother didn't always have access to buttermilk. But there was always sweet tea in the house growing up.”

  “I take it back. Maybe your sweet tea concoction does have its place. This is indeed delicious.” The vampire picked up a thigh with his fingers, unable to hide his discomfort at our lack of utensils.

  Curling his upper lip, he took the teeniest bite I'd ever seen with his non-fanged teeth. “Mmm,” he emitted, chewing. “Truly delicious.” It didn't escape my notice that he did not partake of much of the food, which made me question why we were all here in the first place.

  Blythe wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Did you hear that Horatio has officially dropped out of the election?”

  The information didn't surprise me after my talk with Juniper, but disappointment still filled my chest. “It really is too bad that DK has given Linsey a full-time reporter's job. She seems to walk a fine line between facts and conjecture.”

  “Scandal remains one of the world's best currencies,” commented Damien. “It sells newspapers and generates money as well as gossip. It can take a person from obscurity and raise them into infamy or sink an entire nation.”

  “Is that what you found in your travels?” I asked, my cold gaze landing on the vampire’s, trying to figure him out.

  “One of many things,” replied Damien, not backing down from my visual challenge.

  “Let's not talk politics, guys,” insisted Blythe.

  The four of us settled into quiet eating. Well, three of us. Damien continued to pick at the food on his plate rather than indulge. I got lost in my thoughts, going over Mrs. K’s diary entries in my head. The poor woman had been so lonely, and not one of her former students came by to visit. We’d all mocked her and locked her away in our memory, assigning her the role of a ridiculous caricature of who she really was. Only the mysterious he had made an attempt to connect with her, and even that person seemed questionable.

  When I remembered that Mason wanted me to help find her missing brooch, I stopped eating, my stomach turning a bit with worry.

  Dash kicked my shin, interrupting my thoughts.

  “What?” I rubbed the spot.

  Blythe stared daggers at me. “You didn't answer Damien’s question.”

  “Ask me again,” I insisted, giving him my full attention.

  My friend repeated the vampire’s words with slow deliberation. “He wants to know if you've lived here all your life.”

  “Oh. Yes, for the most part, Honeysuckle was and still is my home, although I don’t know if Blythe told you about my year spent away. But I’m honestly glad to be back.” There. Now, she couldn’t complain that I wasn’t taking part in the conversation.

  “And your brother works with the town’s wardens?” asked Damien, barely waiting for my reply before adding, “And with the last name of Goodwin, may I presume that you are related to the honorable woman who sits in the high seat on the town council?”

  “It seems you’ve done your homework.” If the man wanted to start a better conversation, he needed to ask me more than yes or no questions.

  “Tell him what it's like being a member of one the founding families, Charli.” Blythe lifted her eyebrows at me, her unspoken irritation clear as day.

  “It’s…fine?” What could I really say?

  Dash leaned over to me and whispered in my ear. “Be nice.�
�

  I shrugged him off and added, “It means my grandmother tends to be pretty busy all year-round.” There. Damien could chew on that since he wasn't chewing on anything else.

  “You could tell him about your family’s participation in things like the founding ceremony.” My friend turned to Damien. “Only the founding family members know what treasures are buried underneath this tree.”

  I dropped my cup, and ice-cold sweet tea spilled all over me. “Blythe,” I exclaimed.

  “What?” she snapped back. “He's been showing an interest in our town history. And since he's thinking of putting down roots here, I don't see the harm in him knowing about stuff like that.”

  “But you're not supposed to say anything about the specifics. If he stays, he'll find out on his own.” I batted Dash’s hand away from mopping up the liquid with a napkin, wiping it overly close to my chest.

  Blythe set her plate down and stood up, towering over me. “What's your problem, Charli?”

  “What's yours?” I returned, struggling to stand so I could face her.

  “He has been nothing but nice, and you can't summon up the energy to engage in regular conversation.” She placed her hand on her hip.

  “And you said you would never let a man turn you into a fool.” I countered. “You never giggle or hum.”

  She stepped closer to me and narrowed her eyes. “The only foolish thing I've done is invited you here today.”

  “I didn't want to come anyway,” I yelled.

  “Then leave,” she demanded.

  Before I could reply, Dash pulled me by my arm until we stood a few feet away. I kept my eyes on Damien who comforted Blythe with his arms around her.

  “What is wrong with you?” Dash repeated with a bit of a snarl in his tone.

  Fed up with trying to ignore my gut, I bellowed the truth. “I don't like him.”

  The shifter didn’t let me off that easy. “What don't you like?”

  “There's something about him.” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake that nagging feeling inside. “He makes me uneasy.”

  A shadow crossed Dash’s face. “Because he's hogging your friend’s attention? Or because he's not like you guys?”

  I pointed at Damien. “But he's not. Look at him. The guy is wearing a suit on a picnic. Clearly, he's used to being around others, and doesn't quite fit in here.”

  “You mean like I didn’t,” Dash countered in a lower voice.

  My eyes snapped away from Blythe and landed on him. “I didn't say that.”

  “But you are implying it,” he challenged. “Just because he doesn't fit in your witch world doesn't mean he should be discounted.”

  “So now you're coming to his defense? I thought wolves and vampires didn't get along.” My bratty statement landed the blow I desired.

  Dash winced. “That's werewolves, and that’s only in fiction.”

  I sucked in a breath, knowing I’d crossed a line. “Dash, I didn't mean it.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  My head spun with everything going on. The bit of lunch I'd eaten threatened to come back up. “I’ve got to go.” Hopping on my bike, I ran away from yet another problem. Dash’s question gnawed on me as I rode away.

  What was wrong with me?

  Chapter Fourteen

  I must have circled the streets surrounding the warden station more than ten times, unable to decide whether or not to go in or go home. After another circuit around, Zeke stood in front of my path, blocking me from riding past the station. I braked hard to avoid hitting him.

  He held onto my handlebars. “Miss Charli, your brother sent me out here to find out why you keep passing by. He suggested that you either come in or go home. Except…he didn't say it in such a nice way.”

  “Let me guess. He said something about using the bathroom or not, right?” I smirked.

  Zeke avoided my devious glance. “Something like that, miss.”

  I put the young warden out of his misery. “Tell my brother I'll stop in to see him in a few.” Parking my bike in the lot, I followed Zeke inside.

  Mason stood by the front desk. “And how was your lunch date?” he mocked.

  “Don't ask,” I warned.

  The detective acted interested. “That good?”

  “Or that bad.” He didn't need the specifics, but he could wipe that smug satisfaction off his face anytime now.

  “Come to my office,” he requested.

  Once inside, Mason closed the door behind me. He pointed to a box on his desk. “I’ve brought in some of her things that seemed more personal to her.”

  I stood on my tiptoes to try and catch a glimpse of what things he’d chosen. “Why?”

  “I thought that's how it worked. If you couldn't hold the person's hand, you could use something of value to them to help find whatever it is you’re searching for.” The detective proved his skills in observation, knowing my exact methods.

  My hands trembled, and I squeezed them into fists. Twice now, I’d tried and failed. If I attempted to help Mason and nothing happened, I didn't think I could face his disappointment in me.

  “I don't know if now is a good time. Maybe we should try later,” I managed. With fast feet, I moved to the door, turning the knob.

  Mason took long strides to catch up and slammed the door shut with his hand, trapping me inside. “Charli, I don't get it. You made it clear that you wanted to work with me, but as soon as I ask for your help, you refuse? Tell me what it is you do want.”

  I started to explain to him the reason I needed to leave had more to do with me than him, but he didn't give me a chance to respond.

  He leaned against the door, trapping me with his body. “I don't know what you want me to say. I guess I felt like you see me differently after that thing with Skeeter. I know that my actions weren’t exactly honorable.” He cast his eyes to the floor, swallowing hard.

  Nana was right, not that she didn’t have a gold medal in that. Still, my heart melted a bit at his embarrassment. “Mason, everyone in there was under the influence. Remember how no one was arrested? That's because my grandmother was right when she said that none of you could be held responsible for your actions. All this time you avoided me because you thought I would think less of you?”

  He closed the distance between us, and I could detect a slight whiff of soap and cologne from his skin. “No. I was afraid you would see too much.” Mason stood in front of me stripped bare of any pretense. The truth radiated off of him, raw and rare. Instead of keeping me at arm’s length, he was drawing me in as close as I'd ever been. His trust and vulnerability shattered me, and I couldn't stop the tears from streaming down my cheeks.

  The detective's face softened. “I didn't mean to make you cry.”

  I waved my hand in protest, unable to speak for fear that a sob would rack my body.

  He didn't hesitate or leave. Instead, he wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me in tight. There was no demand from his touch other than for me to take the comfort that he gave freely. I soaked it all up, snotting into his shoulder until my body stopped shaking and the flood of emotions evened out.

  His whispers of assurances ceased, and he rubbed my back in slower circles. The heat from his body penetrated mine, and I became intensely aware of his touch. With a sniff, I extracted myself from his embrace. Like a true gentleman, he offered me a tissue from a box on his desk. It took a few deep breaths for me to compose myself before I could give a full explanation.

  “My magic isn't working,” I admitted in shame.

  My effort to cut to the chase caught him off guard. “I don't understand.”

  “That night with Raif’s dog, when you brought me to him to help. When I tried to use my magic to find his pug, nothing happened.”

  Mason shook his head. “You mean you were interrupted. I remember that you tried, but your brother brought Mrs. K before anything happened.”

  The detective's point of view was a little skewed. I wished it were true, but
I needed him to hear the truth. “No. I took Raif’s hand, and when I focused my magic, nothing appeared for me. Literally, nothing. Normally, I can connect to whatever it is I'm searching for at least a little. But with Raif, it was all one big blank.”

  Mason rubbed his chin, scratching his afternoon stubble. “Maybe that's his fault. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic to have you help in the first place.”

  “Yeah, but I think his desire to find his beloved dog would overrule any personal feelings he has for me.” I took a deep breath and steadied myself to continue. “But that's not the only time.”

  I described my experience with Ben and Ms. Alma’s ring. “Again, I've never had it go so wrong. I've worked with a loose connection before, and have managed to make it work. Frosted fairy wings, searching for things like that is child's play for me. I mean, when I was a child, I could do better. I have no idea why I can't wield my magic, and if I can't anymore, then I'll be nothing.” The tears started all over again, and I grabbed more tissues from the box.

  Mason leaned on the edge of his desk, giving me the space to cry. When the sniffles stopped, he spoke in a gentle voice, “You're being ridiculous.”

  “No, I'm not.” I sounded like a petulant child.

  “You are. You've grown up in a world that hammered into you that your talents made you special. Either you were bullied because you were different or you were told how rare you really were. You've gotten used to the attention that your magic brings to you.” He touched my arm. “But you have no idea what it is that makes you special.”

  He ran his hand down my skin and grasped both of my hands in his. “You, Charlotte Goodwin, have more strength and backbone than one hundred people I've known. You stand up for what you believe in without a care for the consequences. You are loyal to a fault, and you love hard.”

  Unable to bear the weight of his words, I glanced down. He let go of one of my hands and cupped my chin, lifting my head to face him. “The biggest magic you wield is how, even though you can be infuriatingly stubborn at times, you make those around you care about you. More than maybe they should.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “It's a spell that's hard to break,” he said in almost a whisper.