Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Daphne
The morning sun rose over Midnight Beach and cast a warm, peachy glow through clouds stretched thin on the horizon. Above them, the sky transitioned to a brilliant, clear blue, promising a day of island fun. Despite its name, there was nothing dark or melancholy about this place.
Up early to stake a claim at one of the cabanas, I tossed down a towel and a copy of Paranormal Paradise to save my spot.
Our group date didn’t start until nightfall—Jada wanted all the Date-A-Wolf activities to be as vampire-inclusive as possible, even though none of us tonight were light sensitive.
Which meant my daylight hours were free.
On the agenda: catch some rays, read, eat and repeat. Maybe a nap. Ah, heaven.
But first, I needed to run a few errands.
I consulted a map of the downtown that I’d grabbed from the hotel lobby.
The illustrations inside were coloring-book style, which explained the basket of mini colored pencils that had been placed on the table with the maps.
I’d just assumed the island golfers were into color-coding their score cards, so I didn’t take one.
On my next trip through the lobby, I’d have to grab a few.
It would be fun to color in the map later.
I located the places I’d already been to as points of reference. Then I slung my beach bag over my shoulder, adjusted my sunnies and headed for the boardwalk.
At last night’s charm ceremony, Travis sent home a vampire from Cleveland and a bear shifter from Missoula.
Both had been pretty upset about it. He’d taken a fair amount of time walking each woman out and helping her into the waiting limo.
Somberness hung over him like a dark cloud when he returned.
Ignoring the champagne that Jada had poured for him to toast the remaining contestants on camera, he excused himself and bade us goodnight.
His sister hadn’t been too pleased about him leaving. Something about a missed photo-op.
If you’d have asked me earlier how I’d feel to still be part of the contest today, I’d have said disappointed…and probably a little apprehensive.
But that was before Travis had taken me to Fairy Rock.
Goosebumps prickled my skin as I recalled how the sprites had twinkled and frolicked upward in the night sky.
It clearly hadn’t been a scripted part of the show with the camera crew scrambling to keep up.
Mia was right—Travis had ignored reality dating show standards to use his limited time with the women who were at risk of being sent home. Instead, he had spent it with me.
And then there was that kiss—that toe-curling, panty-melting, steal-my-soul-away kiss. Although I had to keep reminding myself it was all just for show and he wasn’t actually the man for me, I couldn’t help being drawn to him as if he were. Animal magnetism had a whole new meaning.
That kiss, though unscripted, would definitely make for good ratings. But if I let myself believe it was anything other than that, I was a fool.
Even though it was still fairly early, a lot of folks were already out and about.
I passed three women with toned arms and surfboards heading to the beach.
Teenagers who weren’t sleeping till noon were spreading out blankets next to the volleyball nets.
Families with toddlers were building sandcastles, and those with older kids were flying kites.
It wasn’t until I was on the boardwalk that I realized most of them, if not all, had to be paranormal creatures of some kind.
Stepping around a watercolor artist and his easel, I nearly ran into a couple holding latte cups and the leashes of five little dogs.
They were that breed you see in televised dog shows—the ones with dreads that make them look like happy-go-lucky mops.
I’d never seen one in person though, not to mention five.
They didn’t bark at me, just wagged their mop-tails. But when a sizable group of gray-haired cyclists cruised past, they barked up a storm at them, hopelessly tangling their leashes and spilling their owners’ lattes.
I quickly learned that none of the roads in this strange little beach town were straight.
They twisted and curved every which way, and many of them seemed to just dead-end and go nowhere.
I was thankful I’d had the foresight to grab a map, although I don’t know how helpful it was.
There seemed to be subtle changes to it every time I looked.
I turned down what I thought was a side street, and the road opened up onto Nightshade Avenue, one of the town’s main drags.
Despite the ominous name, it had vintage street lights, brightly painted shop doors, and lush pots of hanging flowers everywhere you looked.
The city gardener clearly had a green thumb.
Nothing about the island or its inhabitants was congruent. None of it made sense…and yet it all seemed to work.
A multitude of interesting shops lined both sides of the cobblestone street.
Dark Tarts sold questionably named hand pies from a walkup window where people were waiting in line to be served: Kill-Him-Tomorrow had a filling of pineapple and corpse berries; Teacher’s Pet was made with lemon and crab apples; and Hide-the-Body was a chocolate cream.
The young woman in line with glasses, yoga pants and a computer bag looked like a writer.
She was probably getting a Dark-Night-of-the-Soul.
A little farther down was Atwater’s Surf Shop. They sold beach wear and fishing licenses, rented beach equipment and, according to the posters in the window, offered various water excursions.
I paused in front of Island Candy, mesmerized by the taffy puller machine in the window stretching and folding long ropes of candy.
If someone offered a meditation class where all you did was sit cross-legged and watch a machine pull taffy, I’d sign up in a hot minute.
Especially if they gave you samples at the end.
I popped inside and bought a small bag of their Island Princess mix from an elegantly dressed woman with sleek gray hair and rainbow-colored irises.
Given the Island Candy logo, I strongly suspected she was a unicorn.
I had to do some meditative breathing to prevent myself from blurting out my childhood fantasy of wanting to own one of her kind as a pet. I doubt that would have gone over well.
On the other side of the street, just before a bend in the road, was an old-fashioned movie theater, its marquee advertising a noon showing of Night of the Living Dead. I shivered and hoped that some monsters were still fictional.
Midnight Garage and Nails turned out to be as strange and eclectic as I’d imagined.
A scalloped black awning hung over the front entrance, and a wood placard with grungy pink script dangled underneath.
As if you happened to be strolling down the street, saw the sign and decided, hey, I think I’m going to take my car in for servicing and get my nails done.
The same scripted font was also prominently painted in the front window.
It was designed to appeal to women…and men who weren’t afraid of a little pink. I loved it immediately.
The garage doors were open, and two cars were up on the lifts.
Noticeably absent were the sounds of power tools and noisy compressors, even though mechanics were busy working inside.
It took me a moment to realize the garage must be charmed.
A spell had been placed to filter out the loud noise.
I smiled to myself. I was getting better at this.
As I reached for the handle, the door opened unexpectedly, and I nearly bumped into a mom and two girls coming out.
“So sorry,” the woman said with a bright smile. She wore a beach coverup and those thin salon flip-flops you get when you forget to bring your own. The girls were in one-piece swimsuits and jelly sandals. “You know what it’s like herding cats.”
That made me think of George. I hoped he was having fun exploring the charmed area outside our little villa.
Wait. Cats?
I looked at the woman and her girls again.
All three of them had unruly blonde hair that framed their faces.
Lion-shifters, maybe? A split second later, I had my answer as the girls shifted into cubs right there on the cobblestones.
One minute they were human, then poof, they were little lions with sparkly pink claws.
“Girls, stay close,” their mother called.
I stood there for a moment, awestruck as I watched them go, and wondered what it would be like to see Travis turn into a wolf.
Inside, an impressive chandelier of gleaming chrome car parts and crystals hung from the ceiling, and the reception desk was made from the front half of a muscle car.
To the left were several mani-pedi stations, and to the right was a large window looking into a tidy garage.
The waiting area chairs on the salon side were upholstered in pink leather, while the ones on the garage side were black.
Car and fashion magazines were stacked on the side tables.
The receptionist/service advisor behind the car-desk was a beefy, tatted-up guy with a fade cut and multiple piercings. If it weren’t for the school-age girl sitting next to him painting his nails black, he’d look pretty gruff.
“How can I help ye?” he asked in an accented, pack-a-day voice. He didn’t smell like cigarettes though, so maybe his smoking days were behind him.
“Dad!” the little girl scolded. “Hold still. You’re going to make me mess this up.”
“Sorry,” he said, giving me a look of mock horror over the top of her head.
I bit back a smile and held up the boots. “Is Portia here? If not, can I leave these for her?”
Before he could answer, heels clicked on the tiles, and Portia rounded the corner. She wore stylishly ripped jeans, animal print stilettos and a fair amount of eye makeup. She was one hot mama. “Daphne! I thought that was you.”