Rabbits. Obviously. #2
Unfortunately, the divination store is next. And though I haven’t met Theodosia, she makes me nervous. Leprechauns are known to be…feisty.
To my immense relief, the sign on the door says, “Madam Theodosia is out for the day, due to a misalignment of the planets.”
“What does that mean?” I ask Rowan.
“She’s most likely getting her nails done at Gertie’s salon.”
“Where’s that?” I ask.
“Just a few streets over.”
“Oh.” I shake my head. “Okay.”
I stop by the post office, deciding the clerks might like tea, and then drop into the bike shop.
When I cross the street, I pause in front of the bed and breakfast. A for-sale sign is skewered into the front lawn, standing a little lopsided.
Weeds have taken over the flower beds, and there’s a general feeling of neglect about the place.
I’m surprised it hasn’t given Ash an aneurysm.
“This is the place your fiancée’s family used to run?” I ask, and then I remember our surroundings and pull out my phone. The cafe is next door, and the patio is busy.
“Mmm,” Rowan agrees, sounding a touch melancholy.
“Are they selling it?”
“They sold it several years ago. The new owner is getting rid of it.”
“Why?”
“He’s high fae, from Albany. He hired a man to take care of it for him, but his heart was never into it. Guests noticed and stopped coming.”
“That’s sad.” The house is large, with a covered porch and ornate scrollwork trim, resembling an oversized, multi-story gingerbread house. The white paint is peeling, and a few of the boards on the steps need to be replaced. “It must have been beautiful at one time.”
“It was.”
I turn to Rowan, who’s perched on the rail. No one from the cafe seems to have noticed him yet.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“I’m fine.”
Though I don’t believe him, I let it go and continue down the sidewalk, past the people enjoying brunch. Soft instrumental music plays through the cafe’s speakers, adding to the eatery’s magic-meets-Paris aesthetic.
“I don’t imagine anyone in there would be interested in my tea,” I say when I pause just beyond the entrance, out of the way of the people waiting for tables.
“Maybe not, but you have to leave a flyer,” Rowan says. “Perry is an easily offended brownie.”
“A brownie? Really?”
“You say that like you’ve never met one before.”
“I haven’t.”
“Of course you have—what do you think Mrs. Thimbleberry is?”
“The librarian?”
“She’s his wife.”
So that’s what she is.
“Mrs. Thimbleberry is awfully tall for a brownie, isn’t she?” Which seems like a weird thing to say about the petite woman. “Don’t they stand about three feet?”
“It’s a charm. She’s probably closer to two-seven.”
Weird.
I end up going into the cafe and leaving the flyer with a harried-looking woman at the hostess stand. Then I walk next door, to the bookshop.
A little nervous, I push through the door.
“I’ll be right out,” River calls from the back, his voice deep and smooth.
I fidget with my flyers, looking around the space. Unlike the library, the books smell new, and three walls of windows make the space bright and cheerful. But like Ash’s place, there is a complete lack of plant life.
Maybe it’s a winter fae thing.
Meg’s brother appears, wearing a white shirt and gray slacks. He’s opted for a casual look today, forgoing a waistcoat or a tie. With his tidy, short black hair and distinguished air, he looks like a hot professor.
River smiles when he sees me, setting several books on the counter before coming over to greet me. “Hello, Kit. I was hoping you’d visit.”
I wait for the inevitable sparkle, but the butterflies in my stomach are asleep, thank goodness. It appears my heart is a loyal creature, and Ash has claimed it.
“Are you still interested in the book for your father?” the shopkeeper asks.
“I am,” I answer somewhat shyly, unnerved by all the confident fae men who have entered my life. I might not be sparkling, but River is still intimidating. “Though I also wanted to invite you to the soft reopening of my aunt’s tea shop.”
River accepts a flyer, scanning the text, and then he looks up, his eyes meeting mine. “Your tea shop, you mean.”
“Y-yes,” I say, flustered. “Though I’m not sure I’m qualified to claim it yet.”
“I’ll be happy to assist you in any way I can.” He sets the flyer aside, giving me his full attention. “Please tell me how I can make your transition to our small town more comfortable.”
I giggle. Once. And then I control myself.
“T-thank you,” I manage. “So much. That’s very kind.”
He lifts a dark eyebrow, his deep blue eyes on mine. “My collection of fae books is in the back room. Would you care to browse them? It’s slow today, so I can assist you.”
“I…” My mouth goes dry. “I can’t. Today. Because…” I clear my throat and hold up the flyers. “These.”
“Another time, perhaps,” he says knowingly.
“Yes. For sure. Most definitely.” I point to the door. “I need to go.”
He taps the flyer. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I’ll stop by before I open the shop.”
“Great.” I offer him a wobbly smile. “Thanks so much.”
I nearly collide with the door when I turn around. Behind me, River chuckles and steps forward. Reaching around me, surrounding me with his winter scent, he pulls down the lever and pushes the door open. “It sticks sometimes.”
Like that was the problem.
“Thank you,” I murmur, all but running out of the shop.
As soon as I dart outside, I find myself face to face with Rowan. He sits on a bike post, waiting for me—and he doesn’t look amused.
“I swear it’s not my fault,” I say.
“I know,” he answers sharply. Then he sighs. “Fae men are competitive by nature.”
“Competitive?”
“Word is circling that Ash stole your heart before you met anyone else, and now the entire male population of the town is determined to get their chance with the pretty new pixie.”
“You called me pretty again.”
“Would you rather I call you a troll?”
“No, I’m just worried.” I take a step closer, teasing him. “Are you competitive, Rowan?”
“I’m a bird.”
Laughing, I continue down the street. “Come on. We have a dozen more shops to visit before noon.”
Ryder knocks on the door three minutes after two, only five minutes after we get back.
“Did he run here?” Rowan grumbles.
I turn to the owl. “I thought you liked Ryder? Didn’t you say you were friends?”
“We were,” he grumps. When I raise my brows, he scrunches in on himself like the angry little thing he is, and then adds, “No, I do like him. I just don’t want him here for this. He can’t help us, Kit.”
“Would you please have a little more faith in people? Be nice.”
“Why do you keep saying that? I’m always nice.”
“Sure,” I laugh, and then I hurry to the front of the shop.
I’m nervous, not sure how this is going to go.
“As promised,” Ryder says when I open the door for him, offering me a small white box that smells like lemon heaven.
“Oh goodness.” I accept the gift, bringing it to my nose. “Let’s make some tea and share it.”
Ryder steps inside. Dramatically, he closes the door and places his hand on the knob. “Shall I…lock this?”
“You’re rather incorrigible, aren’t you?”
He chuckles, amused. Dropping the overly flirtatious act, he wanders into the shop, his manner becoming friendly. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I actually need your help.”
“Oh really?” He turns from the tea, intrigued.
“My friend is a mage—”
“Is this friend a man or a woman?”
“A man.”
“Eh,” he says like he’s disappointed. “That’s all right, continue.”
“Okay, my friend who is a mage and a man turned himself into an owl, and he needs—”
“I’m sorry, he did what?”
“He turned himself into an owl.”
Ryder slowly raises his eyebrows like he’s questioning my sanity.
“I’m serious,” I insist.
“I can tell,” he laughs. “But are you certain he’s not a shifter who’s lying to you? Do you have a thing for mages? Maybe he’s trying to pull a fast one on you.”
“Shifters can’t talk in their animal forms.”
He holds up his hands in response to my exasperated tone, apologetic. “All right, Tinker Bell. I’m listening. Please, go on.”
Ignoring the nickname, I press forward. “We’ve found a way for me to change him back. All I have to do is use a dust pendant to extract—”
“Stop.” This time, the humor has left his voice, and his face is dead serious. “He asked you to do what?”
“I know it sounds bad. But if I siphon some of my magic into the dust pendant, and an elf tempers it with his magic, in theory, I can learn to wield it and turn my friend back into a man.”
“Introduce me to this man,” Ryder says, his voice stern. “Right now.”
“I don’t have to introduce you—you already know him.” I turn toward the hall, where the cowardly owl has decided to hide. “Rowan, get out here.”
The tea shop is quiet for several seconds, and then Ryder finds his voice. “What did you say his name is?”
Before I can answer, Rowan flies into the room and lands on the back of a chair. Glaring at me, he says, “Hello, Ryder. It’s been a long time.”