“Thank you.” I smiled and tried for a laugh. “If I see someone suspicious, were you planning on beating the crap out of them or, taking notes on their appearance, motivation, or possible accent for your next murder mystery book?”
“I can do both.” Wyatt leaned in closer and studied my face. “I’m serious though. If you need something, Magnolia. Call me.”
My heart fluttered, and my attraction to him caught me completely off guard. Wyatt Hastings was a nice-looking man. It sort of snuck up on you. I wasn’t sure if it was the contrast of the pale blue eyes against the dark shaggy hair and short, neat beard, or if it was his quiet humor and intensity.
I found I had to moisten my lips before I could speak. “Thank you, Wyatt. I appreciate the gesture.”
“You’re welcome.” He reached out and tugged on a lock of my hair that had fallen out of the clip. “I’ll go, and let you get back to your cleaning.”
While the gesture had been almost brotherly, his grin had my heart stuttering in my chest. Silently, I walked him to the front door and stood on the porch, watching as he walked to his car. He gave me a friendly wave and backed his car out of the driveway. I went back inside and shut and locked the door behind me.
As I put away the grocery bags, I wondered if I’d misinterpreted his visit. Surely, he hadn’t been flirting…had he? It surprised me that I sort of wished he had been. Wyatt is a friend of Julian’s, I told myself, firmly. He was merely being a good neighbor,
Even though he lived three blocks over.
I blew out a breath and faced the truth: I was attracted to Wyatt Hastings.
***
By the next day the cottage had a new front door, an upgraded security system, and motion sensor lights in the landscaping surrounding it. Even though we were now equipped with a state-of-the-art system, I was surprised to realize that I still felt uneasy.
It was a sensation I’d experienced a lot growing up. The uncomfortable feeling that makes you glance over your shoulder, or double check the locks on all the doors and windows. Hard to put a pin in…but it was that gut hunch that insisted something was wrong on an energetic level.
I considered what my intuition was telling me as I loaded the dishwasher after supper. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t practiced witchcraft in years. I still recognized bad energy when I felt it, and knew deep down, that some sort of protective wards were definitely needed around the cottage.
Every instinct I owned insisted it was the right move, and yet I still hesitated. I shut the dishwasher and straightened, only to discover that the cookbook was now out and on the counter.
I couldn’t help but jump in reaction. I patted my hand to my heart and scanned the recipe on the pages. “Witchy and Wild Blueberry Muffins,” I read. “Designed to safeguard your home and protect your family from negative influences…”
I thought about Autumn’s warning not to underestimate the book as I finished wiping off the counters. “Maybe whipping up a batch of those might not be such a bad idea…all things considered.” As if in reaction to my words, the book scooted a tad closer to me.
I checked to make sure Willow was still in the living room. “I suppose I could go to the market and see if I can find any wild blueberries.” And I seriously considered it for a few moments, but in the end I shut the book and put it back in the cabinet. “Damn. I’m not sure what to do,” I muttered to myself. “I know I should do something to increase the protective energies. Protective wards still seem like the best way to go.”
When I was a girl, I remembered, Mama used to put crystal points on the window sills. Burn black candles, and set mirrors in the windows to reflect any evil sent our way—directly back to its sender.
I shook my head over the memory. Truth be told, my mother had been so busy hexing anyone and everyone that she had a lot of reason to assume bad energy was coming back to her. However, I didn’t have any sort of magickal supplies to do even the most basic of protection work.
I eyeballed the salt shaker that sat on the table. Salt was good for cleansing spells…but that clearly wasn’t going to cut it. The cottage had been broken into and I needed to keep my daughter and I safe. As Willow romped around the living room, I began to wonder where I could find magickal supplies here in town.
My cell phone rang and Willow scooped it up. “I can answer it!” she shouted. “Maggie Parrish, event cord-in-nator,” Willow said, trying her best to pronounce coordinator.
I held out my hand for the phone. “Thank you, darlin’. Give me the phone.”
Willow ignored me and smiled into the phone. “Hi Autumn!” she said, excitedly.
“Um, hmm.” Willow nodded at whatever Autumn had said. “Yeah, Mama’s right here.” She handed me the phone. “Autumn says we need to go shopping.”
My heart gave a hard rap against my ribs. This was going to take some getting used to, having a psychic for a friend. “Hello, Autumn.”
“Reluctant Witch or not, we need to get you stocked up on supplies,” she said without preamble.
“Yes, I literally was just thinking the same.”
“I heard about the cottage being tossed. I wish you’d have called me Maggie, I would have come over to help. Hell, I would have rallied the troops. Lexie, Ivy and Holly would’ve been there in a hot second.”
“I felt it best to keep things low-key,” I said vaguely, as Willow was standing right there listening to every word coming out of my mouth.
“Plus, you didn’t want to scare Willow,” Autumn said. “I
