Bigfoots Don't Do Mini Coopers (Kate Storm Book 1) (4 page)

BOOK: Bigfoots Don't Do Mini Coopers (Kate Storm Book 1)
8.05Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads


I don’t know.” She shook her head, blonde strands caressed her cheek. “My father died when we were very young. I don’t know if he was cursed as well. I’ve always assumed so, since he died, but . . . Mom just wouldn’t talk about it.”

I come by the duck and dodge impul
se honestly. Then again, we are a cursed coven. It’s not something we tend to brag about at the yearly Wiccan gathering.


You’ve never researched our coven?” I certainly hadn’t.

She sighed. “
No.” She rubbed her hand gently over her chest. I understood. My heart ached too. The curse was like a flaming brand searing us from the inside.

True outcasts in a society made up of outcasts.

I didn’t need to drag my only living relative into my problems. She didn’t know anything. I’d just have to try some other way to find out what I needed. If I could find a way, any way, to break us free of this thing I would.

I picked up my cup and Al
’s bowl and brought them over to the sink.


But your mother did.”

I froze. We don
’t often bring up my mother. Memories of her hurt worse than a hundred brands.


Mom did what?”


Sam wanted more for you than what we had. She wanted you to find happiness. To be able to fall in love. And have that love thrive.” Aunt Tabs blinked several times, cleared her throat. “She’d just started researching the curse when she was killed.”

I dropped the mug and bowl. They shattered at the bottom of the sink.

 

6. Chihuahuas and Senators.

 

My alarm went off at eleven. I turned it off, lay back down and continued to do what I’d been doing for the past several hours. Think.

I
’m surprised I got any sleep after my aunt dropped her bombshell.

It
’s not an easy thing to be an outcast. I thought we’d done remarkably well in our small coven. We had each other’s backs. Trusted each other. I’d killed to keep us safe.

My mother had wanted to break the curse. For me.

When you’ve always been on the outside, you learn to treasure love and acceptance and family like nothing else. I’ve always known my mother loved me. Never questioned or doubted it.

But I
’d never known she would battle her worst fears for me.

It made the ache in my chest that much worse and so much more precious.

Aunt Tabs promised she would look for the research my mother had begun. We’d stored several boxes of my mother’s things in Aunt Tabitha’s garage. Neither of us had really gone through it at the time, but we hadn’t been able to let go of it either.

We still couldn
’t.

A warm tongue licked my ankle. Once. Twice. When the tongue moved up my calf, I called him on it. “
I’m planning to take a shower this morning, Al. Thanks anyways.” I moved my leg several inches to the right.


I could always join ya. Take off from where I just . . .”


Not gonna happen, Al.” I cut him off before he could finish, threw the covers off and jumped out of bed. Hands on hips, I whirled to confront him.

He blinked his bulging chocolatey eyes. I steeled my nerves
. “Look, Al, this,” I motioned back and forth between us, “is not going to happen. At all. Period.”

He cocked his tiny head, eyes soul mel
ting pools of utter innocence.


You know it won’t work. It can’t.” So far, I’ve managed to avoid directly confronting the Chihuahua vs witch issue. I’m Al’s connection with reality, or what used to be his reality. If I confronted it head on, I’m not sure what he would do.

But even I have my limits.

“Not with Ash in the picture,” Al growled.

Was that a threat to Ash?

“Nothing is going to happen between us, Al. Ash or no Ash.” I ground out a decent growl of my own. “It’s impossible.”

Somewhere in that litt
le brain of his, he knew he was now a small dog. Utterly stubborn and determined to ignore reality, but he had to know. He had to. Didn’t he?


Nothin’s impossible, Doll.” Al stood, stretched his miniscule legs out in front and arched his back. He yawned widely. “Ready to go out?”

From seduction, persuasion and possible threats to potty time? Oh, he knew all right.

Al jumped off the bed, rubbed my ankle as he passed and headed down the hall.

I
’m pretty sure he knew. Maybe.

I tugged on my robe and followed
him. I had less than an hour before my first meeting of the day and I needed a very large cup of coffee.

Al sat patiently by the front door. As I headed towards him, he blinked his bulging eyes slowly. His tiny pink tongue came out as he panted.

Make that two very large cups of coffee.

 

 

 

****


You do understand that I am a professional matchmaking service? I am not an escort service.” Man, that really ticks me off when people think otherwise. Matchmaking is serious stuff.


Of course, of course. It’s why I’m here.” Professionally whitened teeth flashed brightly as he smiled. “I need a wife.”


Need or want a wife?” Really, I don’t have enough clients yet to discourage any of them. I knew and understand that. This client, in particular, could open lots and lots of doors for me.

Oh, but, he annoyed me.

“Why, both, of course.” Teeth gleamed, body leaned forward in earnest appeal, hands clasped lightly together, but it was the narrowing of his eyes that told the truth.

Liar. Schemer. Fake.

And I couldn’t afford to turn him away.

The truth spells I
’d cast on the chair where he sat, told me he was corrupt, morally suspect and very wealthy.


Of course, Senator.” I flashed my own smile.


Tom, please, you must call me Tom.” He slid a hand through his perfectly styled brown hair. The large diamond on his pinkie twinkled.

Sincerity beamed from his blue eyes, shadowed by the shark peering out from behind. High cheekbones, firm lips and a square jaw finished off his all-american good looks.

The navy button-down shirt and brown jacket complimented his chocolate pants so perfectly, I bit back the urge to see if my green t-shirt matched my gold earrings.

He leaned back and propped one foot over his knee, displaying matching navy socks. He had tassels on his loafers.

I so wanted to go eighties Valley Girl and gag myself with a spoon.

But I
’m a good business witch. I swallowed my annoyance and prepared to do business. “Thank you, Tom.” Opening a drawer, I pulled out a packet. “Why don’t we go over how I work first and then we can move on to what you are looking for in a spouse.”

Senator Tom Crawford, Idaho Republican, discreetly smoothed back his cuff and glanced at his watch. “
I’m sure you can understand, as a man in my position, I don’t have a lot of time. I did have you checked out quite thoroughly before I chose you, I’m familiar enough with your business.”

Not a big surprise. Also not a surprise that the play-boy senator up for re-election and at the beginning of his campaign would chose a matchmaker from a small town.
Less likelihood of a media leak.

And a man in his questionably re-electable position could certainly use a down-to-earth wife to improve his good-ole-boy republican persona before the public. If he just so happened to “
fall in love” while on the campaign trail that would go a long way towards cementing his “all-american, average joe” image with his supporters.

Gosh, just think of the added bonus media coverage. Such a shame all of those sweet hand holdings and lovey-dovey kisses would be plastered all over
the papers and television.

Oh, I understood the senator perfectly.

He folded his hands together with importance and smooth calculation. “I can afford your services, Ms. Storm.”

Unfortunately, my checkbook understood the senator too.

I shot a glance at the diamond on his finger. “I’m sure you can.” Straightening my shoulders, I said, “Call me Kate. Since you have places to be, I’m sure we can move through this questionnaire quickly and get you on your way.”

I could probably fill out the questionnaire witho
ut the esteemed senator: Blonde, athletic, impeccable back ground, plays either golf or tennis, volunteers - with children or veterans would be a bonus - and if I could manage a family member with a cause to support that would be perfect. Breast cancer or Alzheimer’s would resonate the largest with population demographics.

Now might be a good time to point out I do not like politics. You could even go out on a limb and say I
’m a touch cynical about it.

I
’m a witch. We’ve never really received any good publicity. At all. Although, witches aren’t in the public eye that much these days. Then again we’ve already been through The Inquisition and the Salem Witch Trials. Lesson learned.

Usually I like my clients. At the very least I have some respect for them. I
’d have to keep my eye on the bottom line and his nice check to get through this assignment.

On the plus side, there were no dead bodies.

 

7. Redneck Fairies

 

I indulged in a lovely fantasy where my front door hit the senator in his perfect backside as he left. I particularly enjoyed his yelp of pain, the tear that showed his lipstick kissed boxers and the look on his face when the paparazzi snapped his picture.

The door opened before I could expand into the scandal that would sentence the senator
to years behind bars.

As much as I might enjoy that, my bank account wouldn
’t. I reminded myself a good business witch with bills to pay couldn’t be a choosy witch.

At that precise moment, my brain sort of froze up. Went into a state of suspended disbelie
f as it were.

The most interesting creature walked into my office. I don
’t say that lightly either. I’ve been babysat by gargoyles and gnomes in my youth. Bigfoot was currently sleeping on my pull-out.

I put my money on fairy. Give or take a point towards siren.

Brown, blonde and red streaks of vibrant color were caught and held in what I suppose you’d call a pony tail. The label made me feel bad for ponies.

And I thought my curly locks were unruly.

Strands escaped, ran wild and pogo-sticked around her face. And this was what I could see underneath her pink cowgirl hat with the magenta rhinestone band.

Her bare shoulders and arms glittered faintly which was why I
’d bet on fairy, but she also wore a ruffled orange tube top. I couldn’t see how her wings would fit inside such a skimpy shirt.

The belt encircling her tiny waist was large and encrusted with more rhinestones in a rainbow of colors. Her short shorts were blue and just barely legal.

Pale, shimmery legs descended in a long line before ending in a pair of rosy cowgirl boots. I placed another bet she’d bought the hat and boots at the same store. As a set.

I
’m sure anyone at Eddie Bauer would pick the senator’s way of matching over hers any day. I loved it.


I’m Désirée Norma-Sue.” She held her hand out as she approached. “I’m here for the interview.”

The drawl and distinct twang loudly proclaimed “
Southern gal.” The name screamed something else.

Sweet Spirits. I was about to interview the first and only
applicant for my receptionist position. And she was a redneck fairy.


Hi. I’m Kate Storm. I own
Love Required
.”

We shook hands. Her nails were long and pink and her skin silky soft. Pink and orange sparkles glittered in the air above our hands.

Huh. Friend potential.


Ah, I don’t mean to be rude, but are you fairy?” I held my breath. She had to be either fairy or siren. Fairies and sirens don’t mix well. Morgan had informed me at last year’s Creature Feature Ball the fairies had spiked the sirens’ punch with the Chaste Tree herb. It has a rather dousing effect on the libido of sirens and since all sirens really care about is their libido . . . It hadn’t gone over well.

Especially as several werewolf clans were in attendance. Hoo Boy, do those wolves know
how to show a siren a good time.

I
’ve never been invited to the Creature Feature Ball.


I’m fairy, sugar,” Désirée Norma-Sue said. She twirled on one booted heel to display her back. A slight twitch of her shoulders had two beautiful, glittering, diaphanous wings emerging from discreet folds in her tank top.

Wow.

“I’m sorry if I insulted you. We don’t have a lot of fairies around here.” Their wings freeze in the winter.

I could not take my eyes off those wings. They were just stunning.

“That’s all right, sugar. I’m used to it.” She pronounced ‘I’m’ like it had two syllables.
Ah em
. “I’ve just moved here from Louisiana.”

I
’d heard of a band of fairies living in the swamps of Louisiana, but I’d never expected to meet one.

Damn. I liked her. I liked her style too. Judging by the reaction our skin had when we shook hands, we could easily become good friends. I have never taken friendship of any sort lightly. But if she had just moved here, she didn
’t know who I was.

I took a
step back. Braced myself. “You probably don’t know about me,” I began.


Oh, honey, I heard all about you the first day I got to town.” She fluttered her hand around. “If you’re talkin’ about that half breed stuff, you might as well be talkin’ to a deaf fairy at a tractor pull. I like to make up my own mind about things.”

Prepared as I was for the usual rejection, it took a minute for her words to sink in. Stunned, I mumbled a truth spell.

Désirée Norma-Sue wasn’t lying.


Let’s go into my office.” I whirled around before she could get a good look at my expression. I blinked rapidly.

Rejection, disdain and outright snubbing I
’m used to. I can handle that. I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with acceptance.

The fairy followed me as we crossed the room.

I have two offices and a small reception area with a desk and two scarlet upholstered chairs. One office is for the humans, the other is for the humanly-challenged. I brought her into my HC office.

My mother
’s antique desk held court opposite the door. The wood had tarnished over time to a lovely walnut. Scratches and deep grooves marred the top. It’s my favorite piece.

In front of the desk, I
’d placed two red silk, wing chairs adorned with various ebony spell symbols for truth, love and money. The same chairs are in the office for humans. They work much better on the humans, but I take any advantage I can get.

A small table sat in between the chairs. A tall flowering Adam and Eve
’s Orchid with rose tipped edges stood on the table.

I
’d doused the walls in a rich Cabernet. Behind my desk  hung two paintings depicting Greek and Norse history. Humans would call them paintings of mythology.

Black and white pictures photographed by my Aunt lined one wall. Two Gryphons, gargoyles holding hands, a pack of werewolves, a Wic
can gathering and a fairy wedding were all displayed.

Mythology to some. Reality to others.

On the opposite wall I’d painted the symbol for my coven in a rich, shimmery gold. The True Lover’s knot. I know. I know. Total irony. It makes me cackle too.

Mwah
, mwah, mwah.

A tall cabinet against one wall housed a small TV, office supplies, spell herbs and my tea bags.

The office for humans pretty much mirrors this one, but with  pictures and photos of humans in love and sans the True Lover’s Knot.

I stepped ove
r a box on my way to my desk. I’d just recently re-located. My previous office held the same layout and decor plus about five hundred more square feet. It had also been in a slightly better location.

  I know. I know. There
’s that bit about location, location, location.

Business is business though and since a great deal of mine is done away from my office after the clients meet, I don
’t have to worry over much about location. Besides, the rent was significantly lower here and I now had flower boxes with purple petunias in my windows.

With the move and the improved rent, I could finally afford a receptionist. My answering machine just wasn
’t cutting it anymore.

Which brought me right back around to Dé
sirée Norma-Sue. First Bigfoot and now a real redneck fairy. Life is just full of surprises.

I sat behind my desk. Dé
sirée Norma-Sue dropped a large orange and rhinestone purse into one wing chair and pulled the other one forward until she was right in front of my desk.


How did you hear about the job?” I’d mentioned it to Ash, Morgan and my Aunt and I’d put a flyer up at
Got Fangs?
last week.

Got Fangs?
is a local bar frequented by both humans and the HC. The humans think it is a weird Goth hang out where they get to dress up and live on the edge. The HC use it as a place to relax, not worry about their horns or fur and have a drink.

It
’s my favorite watering hole.


I saw your flyer at
Got Fangs?
and Terry mentioned I should look you up. She thought we’d make a great team.”

Terry is part owner of
Got Fangs?
and an immortal witch. She is also one of the very, very few witches who don’t hold my mortality against me.

As a witch, she
’d know if Désirée Norma-Sue and I would in fact hit it off. Terry must really like the fairy to recommend her.


Why did you move to Idaho?” In general, fairies don’t like the cold. It takes a great deal of magic to unfreeze their wings.


I needed a change and after I moved to Idaho I heard good things about Dominion, so I decided to check it out. And here I am.”

Our town of Dominion
has a great reputation with the HC. Surrounded on three sides by rugged mountains, including the Teton mountain range, there are plenty of National Parks and wilderness areas for hunting. The human population is still rather sparse and people get lost or eaten by bears on a regular enough basis that the occasional devouring by something else isn’t noticed.

I like it a lot myself, but I knew there was more to it. Dé
sirée Norma-Sue was hiding something. It was in her brown eyes as she glanced away.

I
’ve done desperate enough to know.

I whispered a quick spell. Whatever it was, it wasn
’t an immediate threat.

That was good enough for me.

I’d go through the motions of asking about her qualifications and experience, but I already knew I’d hire her.

I
’d known it from the moment she told me she’d heard about my mortality and she didn’t plan to hold it against me.

Acceptance is a rare thing for me
.

 

 

****

The phone rang about fifteen minutes after Désirée Norma-Sue left. We agreed she’d start Monday morning, what her pay rate would be and on the dress code. Which is fairly lax.

However, given the size of her shorts, a fairy
’s penchant for going au naturel and my recent fascination with certain redneck reality shows, I thought I should address the subject before it came up.

Clothes had to be worn at all times and should cover the most intimate body parts. For a fairy that included the wings. I explained we serviced both the humans as well as the HC.

My exact words were more like “both mortals and immortals.” Humanly-challenged is my own private joke. The immortals have a rather dour view on all things human. I did get the impression Désirée Norma-Sue might have the same slightly twisted sense of humor as I do, but I didn’t want to test that theory just yet. Or insult my brand new employee.

I snatched up the receiver. I
’d been waiting for her to call all day. “Did you find anything?”

Aunt Tabs sighed. “
No. I didn’t find anything.” She sighed again. I understood. Aunt Tabs is a strong witch. She’s had to be, but sorting through the the physical leftovers of my mother’s life - her twin sister - there are just things you never want to have to do.

I haven
’t gone into my Aunt’s garage since the funeral.


I went through every box. I know she’d been working on the curse for several months before . . .” Her breath hitched. She paused for a moment. “But I couldn’t find a single note.”


Oh.” Something stronger seemed more appropriate. I just didn’t have it in me. We were talking about my mom.


I did find a couple things you should see. She kept a book of you. Baby photos. Camping trips. Your first Wiccan ceremony.” She made a sound - half sob/half-laugh. “Sweet Spirits, you should see the look on your face at your first gymnastic competition.”

I could imag
ine. I’d been on the Broomstick Gymnastic team for a couple years. I’d been terrible.

And still, mom had taken pictures and saved them in a book for me.

“I . . .” I coughed, swallowed the lump in my throat. And the three after that one. “I’ll look at it later.” Maybe in a hundred years I wouldn’t feel as if someone was stabbing me whenever I thought about my mom.


Sweetheart.”

I held my breath. I didn
’t want to fight with my aunt. After going through all of those memories, she had to be feeling vulnerable and shaky too.

I wasn
’t ready. I have no idea know when I would be ready. I simply knew it wasn’t now.


All right. I won’t push.” I could breath again. “On that. But I also found Sam’s Spell Book. I want you to take it.”

BOOK: Bigfoots Don't Do Mini Coopers (Kate Storm Book 1)
8.05Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Battlemind by William H. Keith
-Worlds Apart- Ruination by Thome, Amanda
Waiting by Gary Weston
Hide and Snake Murder by Jessie Chandler
Dark Days by James Ponti
A Light in the Wilderness by Jane Kirkpatrick
Student Bodies by Sean Cummings
FIRE AND ICE by Julie Garwood