Chapter Six-Bella
I was still glued to the cold concrete curb outside my bakery, clutching the splintered remains of my favorite rolling pin.
The one Petyr had salvaged from beneath the charred wreckage of the ruined display rack.
I wasn’t supposed to be sitting there answering questions about another mystery arson attack.
But my legs didn’t feel like working, and my heart? Well, it was still somewhere between the shock of seeing flames in my bakery again and the way Conrad’s jaw clenched every time he looked my way.
And neither of those things was making it easy to breathe.
I squared my shoulders and bit the inside of my cheek. Time to put on my big girl pants and ignore the sexy Shifter while pretending my whole life wasn’t in shambles.
I could do that.
Maybe. Kinda.
Oh, who was I forking kidding?
“I have to ask you some more questions, Bella.”
I nodded for him to continue.
“So, you arrived here at 4:30 this morning?” Conrad asked, his voice that smooth, low rumble that made my insides do inconvenient things.
His expression was all business—grim, intent, those chiseled features sharpened by focus.
Which, frankly, was rude, because the man had no right to look that good while parts of my shop were still smoldering.
I tried not to admire him.
Really, I did.
But it was like telling myself not to breathe—it just wasn’t happening.
He was damned gorgeous no matter what face he was making.
Ridiculous Witch.
Drooling over a man when your store is literally a crime scene.
Priorities, Bella.
“Yes, I got here about then,” I mumbled, tucking a stray curl behind my ear and hoping I didn’t look like I’d just rolled out of bed—which, in my defense, I had.
I still could not believe some jerk had started a fire in my bakery.
For. The. Second. Time.
I’d gone from irritated to suspicious to full-on homicidal about it.
“I think it’s time we talked about who might have a grudge against you,” he said.
Anger flared hot in my chest. “I’m part of the Witch Trifecta that keeps Castor’s Corner safe,” I snapped. “How could someone I know do this to me?”
“I’m not sure, Bella. Could you have a disgruntled customer? Someone who received a wrong order?”
“I do not get orders wrong!” I said, puffing up like a ticked-off hen. “My goodies are made with the best of intentions, and I fill each order precisely as it should be filled.”
“Bella, I know you have a gift for baking. And for the record, I think your goodies are perfect,” he rumbled in that deep, husky tone that wrapped around me like honey over warm bread.
And just like that, my bruised ego went from sulking in the corner to humming happily in an apron.
I hated how much I liked the way he said it.
Don’t be so needy, Bella.
“But if there’s anyone with even the slightest grievance, it could help us,” Conrad pressed gently.
Brave man, suggesting such a thing twice.
Pink and white sparks fizzed at my fingertips, and I quickly tucked my hands behind my back.
His eyebrow quirked up, but I only shrugged.
“I did use royal blue fondant on Grayson Fox’s sixth birthday cake instead of cerulean blue, but that was only after checking with his mother,” I admitted. “The cerulean dye was out of stock.”
“Okay, that’s a start.”
“Fine. I ran out of Bavarian-filled donut holes for the library last Wednesday and substituted vanilla custard. And the senior center’s order was late yesterday because my produce delivery was delayed.”
He grinned—actually grinned—like I’d just told him the cutest joke instead of my most heinous professional crimes.
“Not sure any of those qualify as arson-worthy, but I’ll look into it.”
My heart gave a stupid little lurch.
The man was bewitching me, and he wasn’t even a Wizard or Warlock.
It wasn’t fair.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Petyr by the dumpster, hauling trash.
“Sonovacockroach!” I yelped.
“What isssss it?” Conrad hissed, moving in front of me and scanning for danger.
“Is that my pink apron?” I asked my familiar.
“Sorry, my Witchy. It cannot be saved,” Petyr said solemnly.
“Dammit!” I stomped my foot like a toddler denied dessert.
“Sorry about your apron, Maribella,” Conrad murmured, the way he said my full name sent a ripple of heat through me that had nothing to do with the lingering smoke.
I was still clutching the broken remains of my favorite rolling pin, and between that and my apron, my emotions were riding the high-speed broom to Meltdown City.
“Maribella? Are you alright?” he asked, cautiously stepping closer.
That’s when my magic decided to join the pity party.
Pink and white sparks shot from my fingers, and where they landed—thunk—hardtack appeared.
Not cookies.
Not croissants.
Hardtack.
The driest, blandest, most tooth-shattering edible ever conceived.
My magic only made it when I was truly, epically ticked off.
“Bella? Bella!” Conrad called my name, but I was already shouting into the early morning air.
“I don’t know who you are, you loathsome, dirty, rotten arsonist! But I’m going to find you, and when I do, your goose is cooked!”
“Hey, it’s gonna be alright now. Bella? You good?”
Conrad stepped over a pile of wretched crackers and gripped my shoulders, giving me a steadying shake.
His eyes—those deep, mesmerizing pools of emeralds—were full of worry.
That simmering smolder was doing things to me again, the kind of things that made me want to toss my good sense out the nearest window.
And for a second—just a second—I thought about letting myself fall into whatever this was between us.
But crunching sounds broke the moment.
I glanced down to see Petyr happily gnawing on a piece of hardtack like it was gourmet biscotti.
Not only that, but he’d invited Ivan and Gryn, who had materialized with their own bottles of vodka, to join in.
The three familiars were now sitting cross-legged on the pavement, playing preferans and snacking like they were at some kind of supernatural tailgate.
“Well, at least they’ll eat through this before you open today,” Conrad said dryly.
“Lucky me,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help noticing the way he was still standing close enough that I could feel his heat.
Too close for comfort.
Too close for a Witch trying to keep her heart safe.
And yet, I didn’t step away.