Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
ROSE
The buildings blur as I drive down the double-lane highway toward the decorations store.
Soft pop blares from the radio, but I can’t shake this unsettling feeling.
I woke up to another note shoved under my door.
After Jett and I broke up and he started harassing me, I’d hired a local coven who specialized in protection spells.
They placed wards to keep unwanted intruders out, but apparently they don’t consider paper from an infuriating ex an intrusion.
And if that wasn’t enough, Ginger—being his ornery self—had knocked over the houseplant Netti gave me as a move-in gift. It lay wilted and sallow in a sad pile of dirt when I found it this morning and tried to repot it by the window.
Maybe it’s a sign.
“It’s not a sign of impending failure,” I whisper, gripping the steering wheel. “I am powerful. I am worthy. I am successful.”
Despite the odds—and my mother’s constant eye-rolls—I do believe we draw energy to ourselves. And right now, I need all the positive energy I can get.
I exit the freeway and follow the GPS until I park in front of a whitewashed building with a cheerful sign that reads Enchantations Decorations and More.
“Maybe the girl on the phone was color-blind?” I mutter as I sling my purse over my shoulder and walk toward the door. A chill slides down my spine, the prickle of eyes burning into the back of my neck. I turn slowly, scanning the street, but nothing seems out of the ordinary.
“Stop worrying so much, Rose,” I chide myself, pushing inside. Yes, a long vacation after this would be well deserved—if I manage to pull off this grand opening.
“Welcome to Enchantations Decorations. How can I help you?” A willowy, middle-aged man with a grey handlebar mustache greets me from behind the counter near the door.
“I’m here to pick up an order for Rosemary Sinclaire.” I pull the folded paper from my purse and hand it over.
“Ah yes, one moment, miss.” He turns and disappears down a row of shelves and through a door into the warehouse.
I take the opportunity to peruse the aisles. Pops of colors in dozens of shades line the shelves, perfectly categorized. Every shade—except blue. The spaces between green and purple are bare.
Completely sold out? That feels like more than bad luck.
The last time I was here, I’d been in too much of a rush to browse.
I could lose hours in this shop; it’s an event planner’s heaven, stocked with everything from baby showers to retirement parties.
But with the sour twist of anxiety at every missing shade of blue, I can hardly look at anything else.
The rhythmic click of wheels on tile draws my attention back to the front, where the clerk pushes a cart stacked high with brown boxes.
“Would you like to double-check the product?”
Do I want to? No. I’d rather avoid the issue entirely, but the sooner I rip this bandaid off, the better.
“Yes, please,” I reply, fingers tapping the edge of my purse as he produces a box cutter and slices open the first box. I hold my breath, chanting in my head: Make it blue, make it blue.
The air rushes out of me as he folds back the cardboard flaps, and my eyes are assaulted.
Chartreuse. And calling it chartreuse was polite. The color leaned closer to the putrid vomit I’d produced after ignoring my parents’ warning and downing an entire gallon of lime sherbet when I was seven. To this day, I avoid lime at all costs.
“It’s quite an… interesting shade of balloons,” he says before glancing up. “Oh dear, is something wrong?”
My throat tightens, but I shake my head and swallow the bubbling anxiety.
“It’s just… not the shade I was expecting. When I called, I was warned there was an issue with my order.”
“I see. It does appear as though you ordered cerulean blue. Perhaps it’s just the balloon arches.”
One box, then another, then another—each one revealing that same nauseating green. My stomach lurches with every cut of the blade.
“We can put in another order and see what we have in stock,” he offers.
“I already checked. Outside of baby-shower décor, your blues are gone. Balloons, banners, even tablecloths—sold out.”
“That can’t be possible. We just got a shipment last week. It may not be the exact shade, but I’m sure we can find something more fitting than”—he glances over his shoulder, mustache wrinkling in distaste—“that.”
With a sigh, I gesture for him to proceed. I trail behind him through the aisles. The lines pulling down the corners of his mouth deepen with every empty bin, box, and shelf we encounter.
“This is most peculiar. I’ll have to call the other associates. Perhaps one of them pulled the product to show you?”
“I’d appreciate it,” I reply, though I don’t let the flicker of hope grow. Who would buy out every shade of blue? Something doesn’t add up.
“Do you want us to keep these?” He gestures to the dozen boxes, barely masking his displeasure.
“No, I drove all the way out here. I’d rather have something than nothing in case it doesn’t work out.
” Maybe I could call around and see if anyone was willing to glamour the decorations on short notice.
I’d known a witch or two in school who would glamourize their hair color—what were a few decorations?
“If you wish. If you do not use them, we do have a thirty-day return policy. Do you need help out?”
“Thank you, I can manage.” I take the cart by the handles and push it toward the door, pausing when my phone begins to ring. The screen lights up with Netti’s photo, and I hit answer, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“Rose!” Children squeal in the background, crackling across the speaker, and I can’t help but smile as I continue pushing the cart to my car. “I haven’t heard from you in forever! How are you? Is now a good time?”
“Anytime is a good time for my best friend.” I stop and glance up at the sun sliding past its peak. I’d spent more time in the store than I realized.
“I know it’s a ways off, but I also know how busy we both get. Hush, Isabella, go to your grandmother.”
I chuckle, leaning against the cart. “I thought you were learning to run the clinic?”
“Well, I am, but I took the afternoon off and got roped into watching some of the pups since it’s spring vacation. Which reminds me about vacations…”
I love my best friend—and her quirky, neurospicy brain that could be healing one moment and chasing a new hobby the next.
“Something we both are sorely in need of. What did you have in mind?” I smile, my thoughts drifting back to the lake and forest where I’d surprised Netti with a visit over a year ago.
Where I met Carter for the first—and last—time.
That weekend was still wildly vivid in my dreams, still lingering in my thoughts.
I couldn’t explain the instant attraction I’d felt for that man.
Yes, he was drop-dead sexy, but so was his twin—and Connor never made my insides flip the way Carter did with a single glance. Even the way he said my name…
“Rose? Rose?” Netti’s voice pulls me back, and I shake my head.
“Sorry, I thought I saw something,” I mumble, pushing the cart the last few feet to my car.
“No worries. As I was saying, I heard about a little town up in the Pacific Northwest that’s great for holiday getaways. Furnished cabins you can rent. I thought maybe we could do a girls’ weekend, just get away like we’ve always talked about.”
“Oh, a cabin trip? That would be great. With cocoa and cookies?”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking. A little quiet, a little peace. I know we both could use it.”
My brows pinch together, Netti’s words fading away as something else catches my eyes. My tires. My flat tires.
“Hey, Netti, that sounds great, but I actually need to go. Can I call you back later?”
“Oh, yeah. Just don’t be a stranger.” Another child starts yelling in the background. “Love ya, girlie.”
“You’ve got it. Love ya more.”
I hang up and walk toward my car, abandoning the cart as I circle around it. Not just one, but four flat tires. Four slashed tires.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Who would do this?
That’s when I see it—the photo tucked into my driver’s window. A photo of Carter and me walking down the street, arms full of paper bags from the sandwich shop.
My stomach lurches as I turn it over. Jett’s familiar scrawl slices across the back:
Who is this?
Anger boils hot in my chest, mingling with the sting of tears. What did I ever see in him? Why did I try so hard to prove myself?
My teeth grind, hands clenching, and the air crackles with magic until my car alarm erupts, wailing through the lot.
“Crap.” I fumble for my keys, hitting the alarm button until the noise dies, the parking lot falling back into the hum of the city.
I glance from my ruined tires to the stack of boxes on the cart. I could call a tow, but I still had errands to run—the florist appointment, then home to feed Ginger. Netti was too far away, my parents were off in Peru, and I wasn’t close enough with anyone at my new job to ask for help.
My gaze drops to the photo in my hand.
Carter.
I tap his contact, staring at the little chibi wolf I’d set as his image so I wouldn’t have to look at his real face every time I opened the list. A tow truck could get me to the tire shop, but after the day I’ve had, I could use more than just repairs. I could use a strong, cold drink.
“I shouldn’t bother him,” I mutter out loud. He’s not here leisurely—he’s looking for that missing girl. The one I’d volunteered to help find.
But then I glance again—first at my slashed tires, then at the photo of us.
He did say to call him if I needed anything.
I hit the button.
The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. My thumb hovers, ready to hang up—
“Hello?” His groggy voice rasps through the speaker.
Carter steps off his bike, pulling off his helmet and raking a hand through his short dark hair with a low whistle.
“What did you run over to end up with a flat?” His rough voice does things to my insides I don’t have time to think about right now.
“It doesn’t matter. Thanks for coming.” I wave off his question. He already disliked Jett and acted overly protective of me—the last thing I need is him going full shifter if he finds out this was my ex.
“I told you to call me for anything. Even if it’s just a flat tire, I couldn’t leave you stranded.”
“How did you get here so fast?” I ask, attempting to redirect the conversation.
“Lucky for you, I was already in the neighborhood. I was going to check out the club you mentioned. Wait”—his gaze drops to my car, eyes flashing gold before returning to blue—“is that four flat tires?” His voice hardens. “What happened, Rose?”
Damn him and his sharp eyes.
“Nothing. Could you just take me to the florist? They close soon.” I bite my lip and gesture down the road. “Plus, I have connections with the club. Easier to get us in to talk with the owners than for you to swagger your way in looking for clues.”
“Rose.” His voice is a gravelly warning as his hands close around my shoulders, turning me to face him.
“One flat is an accident. Four at once?” He releases me, crouches by the tire, and runs a hand over the rubber—right where the jagged slash gives me away.
His head lifts slowly, eyes glowing feral gold, a low growl vibrating in his chest. “Who did this?”
“It’s probably just some punk kids playing a prank,” I lie with a shrug, meeting his gaze. He doesn’t buy it for a second.
“Rose.” He rises, forcing me to face him eye to eye. “You’re the worst liar. It’s written all over your face. Who did this to you?”
I sigh and drop my head, resisting the urge to lean into him and spill everything onto his leather jacket. My fists clench around the crumpled photo. His nostrils flare as he notices it, flipping it over to reveal Jett’s messy scrawl.
His growl deepens. “This the same ex who left the note at your house?”
“He’s harmless. He must’ve seen us the day I was helping you and got jealous. He doesn’t know we are—” My throat tightens. What were we? Not dating. But every second, I wanted him to jump my bones.
“Yes, Rose. What are we?” He steps closer, fist crushing the paper at his side. I back up, not trusting myself, until my thighs bump into something cold and metallic. I glance down, and that’s when I remember what my so-called knight in shining armor came riding in on.
“Oh no.”
“Oh no, what?” His voice is a dark temptation, his breath brushing my neck, sending heat spiraling through me even as apprehension grows in my stomach. My eyes lock on the blue rocket he calls a bike.
“I’m not riding that death trap.”
“You mean Elenor?”
“Elenor?” I choke on a laugh, pointing at the glossy machine. “You named your bike Elenor?”
“What’s wrong with Elenor?” He pats the leather seat like it’s a beloved pet. “She’s perfectly safe.”
“Safe? Do you know how many people die riding those things? I’ll call a cab. You can just—” I wave vaguely down the street. “You can go be a superhero for someone else. Rescue another damsel in distress.”
“What you mean,” he drawls, “is you’re not riding it like that.” He gestures to my outfit, then unzips his leather jacket in one smooth motion. “And you’re not climbing into a cab with a stranger. Not after what happened to your car.”
The unsaid words—after your ex stalked your house, your job, then slashed your tires like a maniac—hang heavy between us.
“Carter,” I protest, though it comes out weak.
His words barely register as my gaze snags on his forearms, muscles roped tight, thick veins standing out as he grips the jacket and holds it out to me.
“Rose?” His voice softens, barely a whisper. I drag my gaze upward, meeting his eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”
“We barely know each other. Why should I?” The words leave my mouth, brittle and untrue, even as I slip my arms into the jacket he slides over my shoulders. Warmth envelops me as he zips it shut.
Hurt flashes across his face, gone in an instant, but guilt stabs through me. I shouldn’t have said it. If I didn’t trust him—even a little—I never would’ve called.
“I’ll never be just a stranger to you,” he says quietly, before turning to the bike. He pulls his helmet over his head, then pauses, lifting the more feminine twin from the saddlebag. He holds it for a long moment, visor hiding his expression, before gently sliding it over mine.