Chapter 4
Hadley
I finish scooping another Lavender Honey cone for the little Witch dressed in white, and I shake my head.
“You know, Liebling, this flavor rivals Honey Sweet Creamery, and I know the owners well,” he says, devouring cone number two.
“Compliments will get you nowhere,” I tell him, but inside I am preening because I know that ice cream parlor, and it is the best.
Uzzi presses a hand dramatically to his chest.
“You wound me, my dear.”
“Look, I appreciate the patronage, but I just moved here,” I explain. “I’m rebuilding this shop. I’m not looking for love.”
He nods thoughtfully.
“Yes, yes. I’ve heard that before.”
“Oh, yeah? From prospective clients?”
“Oh, from every stubborn little Shifter like you who ends up finding their fated mate with my help. Now, what do you say? Are you a Bear or a Mouse? Seriously, I need to know for the interview questions,” he says and taps the phone.
My Bear snorts, all self-righteous.
Mouse indeed.
I laugh.
Because he’s funny.
And sweet for an old guy.
“Look, I really do appreciate the confidence—Uncle Uzzi, was it?” I say, leaning my hip against the counter and crossing my arms. “But I think I’m gonna stick with ice cream.”
Because ice cream?
Ice cream has never broken my heart.
Ice cream has never cheated on me.
Ice cream has never told me I should try harder to be someone else.
Uncle Uzzi sighs like I just told him I kicked a puppy.
“Well,” he says, all dramatic disappointment, “you cannot say I did not try.”
I grin.
“Oh, I absolutely will say that. Loudly. Probably to my employees. Might even put it on a T-shirt.”
He gasps, clutching his chest.
“Cruel, Liebling. Very cruel.”
“Accurate,” I shoot back.
But he’s already recovering, because of course he is.
He slides his phone back into his pocket like this entire conversation hasn’t been mildly unhinged.
“Just remember,” he says, wagging a finger at me, “sometimes love arrives when we least expect it.”
“Pretty sure love doesn’t come with a download link,” I mutter.
He just smiles.
And then—because this man is clearly committed to the bit—he orders a third Honey Lavender cone.
“With sprinkles,” he adds, like that’s a critical detail.
“Bold choice,” I tell him as I hand it over.
“Life is about risks,” he says solemnly… before immediately taking the most dramatic, over-the-top bite I’ve ever seen.
I laugh.
I can’t help it.
He eats the whole thing like it’s a performance, humming happily, eyes closing like he’s having a religious experience.
“Okay,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re either a genius or completely unhinged.”
“Why not both?” he counters.
Fair.
And then—
Just like that—
He’s gone.
No lingering.
No pushing.
Just a cheerful little wave and a bell jingle as he walks out like he didn’t just try to recruit me into magical matchmaking madness.
I stare at the door for a second.
Then shake my head.
“Well,” I mutter, turning back to the counter. “That was weird.”
Like… really weird.
The kind of weird you tell people about later and they don’t believe you.
The shop fills again. Orders come in. I scoop, smile, chat, ring people up.
Normal.
Everything goes back to normal.
But then—
There’s a lull.
Just a few minutes where the line disappears and the world goes quiet.
And my brain?
My brain betrays me.
Because now I’m thinking about it.
The app.
The way he said it.
The absolute, unwavering confidence.
“Magical matchmaking,” I murmur under my breath, wiping down the counter.
Ridiculous.
Completely ridiculous.
And yet, I glance toward the door.
Like he might pop back in and say just kidding.
He doesn’t.
Of course he doesn’t.
I sigh.
Then reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.
“This is dumb,” I tell myself.
Very dumb.
Embarrassingly dumb.
But also, I’m curious.
Just a little.
I scroll.
Find it.
DATE TO MATE.
The logo is annoyingly cute. Sparkly. Magical. Suspiciously well-designed for something that sounds like a scam.
I stare at it.
For a long moment.
“Okay, but if this steals my data, I’m haunting that man,” I mutter.
I hesitate.
Because part of me—the louder part—knows better.
Knows how this goes.
Hope leads to disappointment.
Expectation leads to heartbreak.
And I have worked very hard to get to a place where I don’t need any of that.
But then there’s the quieter part.
The part that wonders, what if?
I huff out a breath.
“Fine,” I say, tapping download. “But this is just for fun.”
No expectations.
No attachments.
Just curiosity.
The app installs.
I open it.
There’s a soft chime.
Pretty.
Too pretty.
My phone buzzes.
MATCH FOUND.
I blink.
“What?”
I didn’t even do anything.
I didn’t fill anything out.
I didn’t—my heart kicks.
Hard.
Too hard.
My she-Bear stirs, suddenly very awake.
Very interested.
“What the hell?” I whisper, staring at the screen.
Because right here.
In Maverick Point.
With one stupid, impulsive download—everything just changed.
And I don’t know if I should be excited.
Or run the other way.