Chapter 13 #2
“Thanks for letting me borrow these,” I said, handing her the boots.
Her eyes twinkled. “So…did they bring you good luck?”
Good luck?
Heat rose to my cheeks, and I threw a hard glare at the Tony Lamas.
Had a spell been placed on the boots to get me to fall for Travis?
Or to compel him to fall for me? Was that why he was suddenly so thoughtful and perceptive and had taken me to Fairy Rock?
Pre-cowboy boots, he’d been rude and standoffish.
Post-cowboy boots, he was a whole different animal.
“Why? Are they charmed?” It would also explain why I was wildly attracted to someone I shouldn’t be. Someone I should be scared of. Someone who—
“O.M.G. no,” Portia said vehemently, saying the letters not the words. “They’re just good old-fashioned cowboy boots. Promise.”
I relaxed again, but only a little.
Was I really starting to have feelings for Travis? Actual romantic feelings?
No and no.
Okay, so maybe I was crushing on him. I mean, how could I not be? The man was unbelievably hot and could be really considerate.
He was also a werewolf.
Charmed boots or not, given my track record of falling for men who turned out to be trouble, I didn’t trust my instincts. Not anymore. If anything, I was just a star-struck fan of a handsome celebrity.
A little voice in the back of my head annoyingly pointed out that I hadn’t known he was a celebrity. I hadn’t watched Secret Shadows before bingeing a few episodes in my room last night, so I couldn’t be considered a fangirl of his work. I ignored it.
“Ah, look at the feckin’ time,” the receptionist exclaimed, jumping to his feet. I noticed he was wearing a kilt.
“Dad! Language.”
“If ye miss the bus again,” he told the girl, “yer ma will kill me.” With his daughter and pink backpack in tow, he rushed out of the salon, calling something unintelligible over his shoulder as the door slammed.
I raised my brow quizzically and wondered if Portia understood that.
She shrugged. “Angus shares custody of his daughter with his ex and does this almost every day when he has her.”
I looked around again. Pendant lights over the manicure stations were constructed from gears, vintage glass and filament bulbs.
“I love your place,” I told her. “The colors. All the details. It’s got a great vibe.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Viktor,” she said, blowing a kiss toward the garage. “I just tell him what I want him to make, and he makes it.”
I remembered seeing her with a handsome, burly guy on the ferry. “Your husband is very talented.”
“He is. Very.” The way she said this implied more than just his skill at repurposing car parts. “So…how did things go?”
I started to bite a hangnail then thought better of it considering where I was. “Well, I’m not leaving the contest, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Nice! And…?”
“And my team won the Ranch Challenge. We’re going on a group date tonight.”
“Yes!” She pumped her fist and did a little jig, clicking her heels on the tile. “I want to hear all the juicy Travis details.”
Despite my protests that I didn’t have any juicy details or want to get my nails done, she ushered me to a manicure station.
She wouldn’t make my nails too long, she assured me.
Just tidier and less susceptible to biting.
She tried to talk me into their signature colors, fuchsia with black tips, but I went with pale pink instead.
As she buffed, filed and polished, she made me rehash what had happened in the contest so far—who went home, who remained, who wore what, and who said what to whom.
When she was finished, I had to admit my nails looked a lot better.
“Are you sure I don’t owe you anything?” I asked. “You’ve already done so much for me.”
“Nope,” Portia said. “My treat.”
Just then, there was a loud crash from the garage followed by a slew of cursing. So much for the silence charms. I could see Portia’s husband through the viewing window stomping around, a dark expression plastered on his face.
“Is…uh…everything all right in there?” I asked, glancing at Portia.
She didn’t seem concerned. “Everything’s fine. He’s been a grouchy bear since coming out of hibernation and learning I wasn’t pregnant.” She gave me a sly grin. “Not for a lack of trying, however.”
She already had two littles, I thought, remembering her young son and her baby on the ferry. My science-loving head filled with all sorts of questions about hibernation, gestation, and the mating habits of bear shifters, but I held them in check.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” I started to reach into my beach bag, but Portia stopped me.
“You’ll mess up your polish,” she said. “I’ll get it.”
“It’s at the bottom.” I held out the bag to her.
“A jar of lotion from my online apothecary shop. A little token to say thank you for all your help. I honestly don’t know how I could’ve made it through these last few days without you.
You’ve been a godsend.” Although I hadn’t made it specifically for her, I had a feeling she’d like the sage-mint scent, so I’d popped one into my bag from my stash at the hotel.
“Honestly, Daphne. You didn’t need to—” Portia reached inside, then instantly whipped out her hand as if she’d been bitten by a sharp-fanged spider. “What. Is. That?”
“What is what?” I asked, confused.
Wide-eyed, she pointed to the bottom of my bag. “That…that book.”
I’d completely forgotten I’d brought along the leather-bound tome. I figured I could page through it on the beach if I tired of my book or the copy of Paranormal Paradise I’d swiped from the lobby.
“It’s from back home. I picked it up in my boss’s office by accident.
Ex-boss, actually. I probably don’t have a job anymore.
It’s a long story—he’s possibly a murderer.
I tried giving it to the authorities, but when that didn’t work, I…
” My voice trailed off as I remembered how I hadn’t been able to tell Scully and Mulder about the book. How I’d thrown up in front of them.
So how was I able to talk freely about it now? Was it because I hadn’t told her myself? That she discovered it without me?
Portia’s gaze bounced between me and my beach bag. “Is your ex-boss a dark wizard?”
“What?” I nearly choked.
“Your ex-boss. Is he a…a dark wizard?”
Images of Sauron, Voldemort, the Night King, and the Lord Ruler came to mind. Fictional dark wizards, but still fairly disturbing.
“He’s a horrible man, yes, but I don’t think Pharma-Douche is…is a wizard.” But even as I said the words, I couldn’t be so sure.
I knew now that paranormal creatures lived secretly in the outside world. Was it possible that Pharma-Douche was one of them? Was he a supernatural CEO? But he’d hit on me, and I’d rebuffed him. If he were a dark wizard, wouldn’t he have cast a spell that made me say yes to his advances?
Portia scribbled something on the back of a business card and thrust it at me. Just an address. No name.
“Go here. They’ll know what to do.”
“Is this your friend Cassie?” I asked, recalling Portia telling me about her friend who made the Date-A-Wolf charms.
Portia looked horrified. “Cassie? Why on earth would you think that?”
“Didn’t you tell me she’s in one of the local covens?” I twisted my wrist and made the bracelet jingle.
She was quick to correct me. “No, no, not her. Cassie and her family don’t…uh…do that sort of work.”
Before I could ask what sort of work that was, she was ushering me out of the salon. A mix of worry and confusion churned in my stomach as Portia glanced nervously up and down the street.
“You didn’t tell anyone you were coming here with…that, did you?”
I shook my head. “The one time I tried to tell someone about it, I puked. I don’t really want to do that again.”
“Okay, good.”
I didn’t know what was good about puking, but I didn’t press further.
“That’s some bad juju, Daphne. I can feel it, and I’m not even a witch.”