The front of the ballroom has been transformed into a stage with large black curtains set up that run about twenty feet across and just that high. A few tables are set out with cones and rings on them. There’s a coffin to the left, and just looking at it gives me the chills.
I can’t help it. Cider Cove has had its fair share of homicides over the last year. But that coffin is not what’s giving me the biggest chill. It’s that oversized acrylic box of water—a glorified dunk tank—that stands about ten feet tall and six feet wide.
It’s nothing that should frighten me, seeing that I’ll be climbing into it over my dead body. But I just so happen to have a very strong aversion to a body of water of any size. I’ve got a handful of quirks, and that’s one of them.
“Bizzy Baker.” A girl who just so happens to share my long dark hair and pale blue eyes twirls in front of me with another platter of fresh baked blondie bars. She just so happens to be my very best friend, too.
“Emmie Crosby.” I follow her to the refreshment table already brimming with enough platters of blondie bars to feed a small island nation. “These blondies, coupled with the scent of coffee, is a combination to die for.”
Emmie grimaces in my direction. “Careful what you say. We don’t exactly have the best track record as far as keeping our guests alive.”
“Good point.” I lift a blondie bar her way as if I was toasting her.
Emmie and I have been best friends since birth. We not only look like sisters, but we just so happen to share the same first name, Elizabeth. So in an effort to stave off a lifetime of confusion, we opted to go by the nicknames our families gifted us—Bizzy and Emmie.
“So are you going to do it?” She butts her shoulder to mine. “Are you ditching the Baker surname? Am I going to have to get used to calling you Bizzy Wilder?”
A dark-haired man with a wily gleam in his eye pops up beside her.
“Inquiring minds want to know.” He grins my way.
“Hello, Leo,” I say, shooting him a wry smile.
Leo Granger is a deputy down at the Seaview Sheriff’s Department. He and Jasper were pretty good friends once themselves, until Leo snatched Jasper’s fiancée away. But they’ve since patched things up again.
And Leo just so happens to be telesensual like me. A rarity, but that’s actually how and why we met. That was ages ago, and we’ve come to terms with our shared mind-reading conundrum. The one person who hasn’t come to terms with it—because she doesn’t know about it—is my sweet bestie. I just don’t know why I haven’t told her after all these years. And to be honest, I’m terrified of what her response will be.
Leo has already told me that he plans on sharing his odd-ball talent with her one day. And judging by the way their relationship seems to be intensifying, that day will be here sooner than I’ll know how to deal with it. I’ve already resolved to tell her about my supernatural quirk right along with Leo. But don’t think for a minute I’m not dreading it.
“Well?” Emmie’s eyes bulge a moment. “Will you be a Wilder or not?”
“I really haven’t decided.” I cringe as Fish purrs in the crook of my arm.
Sherlock gives a little bark. Can I have a cookie, Bizzy? I won’t tell Jasper. You have my word.
Leo laughs as he gives Sherlock a scratch over the head.
“Someone is hungry.” He gives an amused smile my way. Leo can read the minds of animals just as easily as I can.
Emmie breaks off a piece of her blondie. “There’s no chocolate in it. And it’s just a bite.” She winces. “Don’t rat me out to Jasper, Mrs. Wilder.”
Emmie and Leo belt out a laugh as if it were comical.
“Mrs. Wilder.” A sly grin takes over my face as well. “I love it. But I do love Baker, too.” I scowl down at the blondie bar in my hand. “The fact I’m a natural disaster in the kitchen should make me want to ditch my old surname. Maybe I should ditch Baker. Who knows? My baking might actually improve.”
They share another laugh on my behalf as Leo takes Emmie by the hand.
“Come on,” he says, nodding for Sherlock to follow him as well. “Let’s go check out this paraphernalia they’ve got laid out. It looks pretty wicked.”
Emmie waggles her brows his way. It looks pretty kinky. Hey? Who knows? Tonight’s show might just give us a few naughty ideas.
An ear-to-ear grin spreads over Leo’s face as they head in that direction, and I can’t help but frown as I bend my lips to Fish’s ear.
“It’s not fair that he knows what she’s thinking,” I whisper.
Fish meows just as soft. It’s not fair Sherlock traded us for Emmie and her blondie bar.
“But not surprising,” I say.
I hike up on the balls of my feet and crane my neck into the crowd. I spot Georgie and Juni up front getting tangled in the hoops and ropes set out. I’m pretty sure they shouldn’t be touching those, but I learned a long time ago there’s no point in telling them what to do.
A couple catches my eye. A tall man with dark hair and a blonde in a pale blue dress.
It’s Julian, the magician—or mystic as he referred to himself when McKenna introduced us this afternoon. He’s standing just to the left of the curtain, and whoever that waif of a blonde he’s trying to coerce, well, she doesn’t look as if she’s buying whatever it is he’s selling. In fact, she looks red-faced and angry. And if I’m not mistaken, she seems to be shouting at him. The woman gives him a hard shove to the chest before stalking off in this direction, and he glares at her as if he
