The Cupcake Coven (22 page)

“I don’t think she sees it as pestering. She was probably just frustrated that she couldn’t find her for you. I know I was.”

“Seriously? But you didn’t even know her.”

“We knew you.”

He chuckled. “And you knew I wasn’t goin’ to leave without her.”

“And now we don’t want you to leave at all,” she murmured.

He stepped into her personal space and pulled her against his chest. “We’ve got to figure this out, sweetheart. I’m not leavin’ anyone I love behind.”

“So your name really is Shasta?”

Shasta shrugged one shoulder. “So they say…I think I like the name April better.”

Mike chuckled. “So do I.”

They occupied a bench in Prescott Park, appreciating the occasional spray from the fountain on the hot July day.

“So what’s your last name?”

“Tanner. Oh! And I’m not married or engaged.”

Mike wiped his brow. “Whew! I was worried that the crazy guy chasing after us was your husband.”

“Nope. Just my brother. He wants to take me back to Texas.”

Mike adjusted his position so he could see her face. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” she said decisively. At least she
hoped
she sounded decisive. “At least not to stay.” A big part of her wanted to see where she was from and maybe jog more memories. “Dru said I was in college in Austin.”

“Ah. Austin’s nice. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“I guess so…Although, having amnesia puts things in a whole different perspective.”

“You got that right. I didn’t care about anything beyond my little world, which suddenly got a whole lot smaller.”

She returned to the bench and sat down again. “Mine still feels small. It should be getting bigger as I find out more and more about my life, but…”

He draped an arm over her shoulder. “I think once you actually remember your past you’ll feel more connected to the present, your future, and the rest of the world.”

“I hope you’re right.” She laid her head on his shoulder.

After a few moments of companionable silence, he asked, “So, what now?”

She looked over at him. “I promised I’d help Rebecca at the bakery and she said I can stay as long as I like. Dru wants to take me back home, but I still don’t really know him. It would be like going on a long road trip with a stranger. And what if I don’t like it when I get there?”

“Then I’ll send you a plane ticket.”

She leaned away from him so she could see his eyes. “Are you serious?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “I’d like to give us a chance…”

“Me too. I just hope my crazy brother will let me stay.”

“If he doesn’t, don’t fight him. He was obviously determined to find you. He might just hog tie you and take you back against your will.”

April gasped. “He wouldn’t dare.”
Would he?

“It’s on for tonight,” Rebecca said as she hung up the phone.

Dru let out a deep breath. “I hope Shasta will be on board. She can be stubborn as a mule. I never could make that girl do anything she didn’t want to.”

“Just treat her as an adult. You shouldn’t have to make her do anything. Appeal to her sense of reason, Dru.”

He snorted. “Sometimes, her unreasonableness knows no bounds. I wish you could do it without her consent.”

Shasta poked her head into the bakery’s kitchen. “What do you want to do without my consent?” The bells out front jingled, signaling that the customers must have left.

“Oh!” Rebecca strode over to her and placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. Nobody is doing anything without your consent. You’re brother just can’t quite see the mature young woman you’ve become in his absence.”

“Hey. I can see my sister’s getting older. I’m just—worried, is all.”

Shasta folded her arms. “Are you gonna to tell me what you’re talkin’ about or not?”

Rebecca nodded toward Dru.

“
I’m
supposed to explain it?” How could he explain it to her?
Uh…we’re going to trust your brain to a bunch of witches? Hope you don’t mind…
“Rebecca, you’d do a better job of explaining it.”

“Okay. Why don’t you take Shasta’s place out front and we can talk about it while I show her how I make the cinnamon rolls.” Rebecca went to the supply closet for her bags of flour and sugar.

“I’d kinda like to hear the explanation myself. Maybe I can just keep an ear out for customers.”

She placed her hands on her hips and looked as if she were going to call him the stubborn one, but instead she pulled out one of the bistro chairs. “Have a seat.”

Let her be annoyed. This was his little sister they were going to mind-probe, and he’d gone through too much to blindly trust her welfare to anyone.

Rebecca began with a smile and a question. “How would you like a shortcut to recovering your memory?”

“Seriously? That would be great,” Shasta said.

“Good. Well, here’s the scoop. I’m a witch and I belong to a local coven…” She paused, possibly waiting to see how that information would be received—or maybe just to gather the milk and butter from the fridge.

Shasta didn’t blink. “Hmmm…I guess that’s why you call this the Bewitching Bakery.”

“Exactly. Dru tells them my stuff is magically delicious.” She rolled her eyes. “But there’s no magic in hard work and quality products.”

So far, so good.
Dru watched Shasta’s reactions carefully. Would Wicca feel familiar to her? Or would she forget her religion along with everything else about herself and her life?

Rebecca was talking, and he had to pull himself out of the conversation in his head so he could pay attention to the one happening in the kitchen.

“I consulted one of the elders and she agreed to help me write a spell that would bring back your memory. The whole coven would like to lend their strength and support to the spell. I can’t do this without your knowledge or permission, however.” She leveled a glare at Dru. “Despite what your brother would like.”

Shasta glanced at him, but she didn’t appear angry. She looked more like she was nonverbally asking for his opinion on all this.

“I think it’s a good idea, Shasta. I’ve met these people and they’re all very supportive, like Rebecca said. I’ll be there too.”

“In that case, okay. What’s gonna happen?”

“Well, right at the moment, I’ll let you follow the recipe for cinnamon rolls while I explain. Did you know you’re a witch too?”

Shasta’s jaw dropped. “Not on my own, I didn’t. Son of a bitch…”

“Watch your language, young—”

“Oh, cut it out, Dru,” Shasta snapped. “I just found out I’m a witch. What else did you forget to mention?”

Dru did the only smart thing he could. He reached into his cowboy wisdom.
If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.

“Sorry for interruptin’, Rebecca. Go ahead. You were sayin’…”

“That’s okay. Hang on a sec.” She grabbed a large bowl and set it on the counter, then laid a recipe book beside it. She found the page she wanted and clipped it open. “Let’s get the dough ready and rising. If you have any questions, let me know.”

“You got it.” Shasta glanced around the kitchen. “Measuring cup?”

“Oh, of course. Duh. I’m so used to the amounts, I don’t need to measure anymore.” She opened a cabinet and found measuring cups and spoons.

Dru knew she’d be able to cook for the ranch. And boy would they love it if she made cinnamon rolls. Since the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach, she’d capture the hearts of every person around their long dinner table in no time.

As his mind wandered, Rebecca explained what he had already witnessed…the witch’s ritual circle. Shasta seemed to be paying attention despite measuring and mixing simultaneously. He couldn’t help picturing her helping Rebecca in the kitchen like she used to help their mother—until school started up again. He was determined that she finish her senior year and graduate.

“So, it’s all set for tonight?” he asked.

“Yes. The moon is in the right phase and it won’t be void of course.”

Whatever that means…
Dru was doing his best to get through the book Hanna gave to him, but there were many things he had yet to learn.

One of the chapters dealt with covens and he skipped ahead to read that one first. It put his mind at ease and confirmed what he’d witnessed. And he learned a lot more—like the group of thirteen was the perfect number. It represented the thirteen moons in the lunar year. It was the strongest number for working magic, while continuing to give each member time for their individual intentions.

Members often became friends outside the coven, and he’d seen how each would help another if asked. He learned that a coven often took on a community cause as well. He’d never asked about that, however. Now that Rebecca’s explanation was over and Shasta’s questions were answered, this might be the perfect time to ask.

“Hey, Rebecca. I remember readin’ in my book that covens like to do good deeds in the community. Is the Coven of the Triquetra involved in somethin’ like that?”

She beamed. “Yes. Brigit works at the animal shelter and we collect donations, pet food, blankets, whatever we can to help. It’s a no-kill shelter, so we’ve even raised money to expand it and some members foster animals.”

“Ah. I remember seeing a donation box in Myranda’s shop. Why don’t you have one here?”

She chuckled. “I used to. Then I got a few questions from customers making sure I wasn’t fostering animals in the kitchen.”

Shasta laughed. “Seriously? People can be that stupid?”

“Oh, honey. You’ll meet all kinds,” Dru said. “Some don’t know better than to squat with their spurs on.”

The little bells over the front door jingled, so Dru strolled toward the store. “I’ll go make myself useful while you ladies keep on keepin’ on.”

He caught sight of the guy who had pretended to be a realtor, only something was happening to him. He was twisting and shouting like a swarm of bees were attacking him.

“You son-of-a-bitch,” he yelled when he saw Dru. “How are you doing that? Stop that!”

“Uh…Rebecca,” Dru called out.

She hurried out of the kitchen and stopped short. When she recognized the guy, she started laughing. “I think you’ll be fine, if you just leave,” she said.

The guy struggled to the door, opened it and practically flung himself onto the small lawn and rolled. When he reached the sidewalk, he stood and brushed himself off. He appeared perfectly healthy. He straightened his tie and scowled at the window—which was already fixed.

“I don’t know how you did that,” he yelled out, “but my boss still wants his money.”

He stormed off toward the square.

Dru caught Rebecca’s eye. “Was that the sigil magic at work?”

“You’re starting to believe, aren’t you?”

He whistled. “I’ve got to say, I’m mighty impressed. What do you think the sigil was doing to him?”

Rebecca shrugged. “Looked like electric shocks to me.”

“You said they’re made of energy, so that makes sense.”
Yup. Knowing a witch can be mighty useful.

“You think she’s a witch, Sal?”

“I know, boss. It sounds crazy, but the place
is
called the Bewitching Bakery. And I can’t think of any other explanation for what happened.”

“Hmmm…” Marvelous Marv steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the polished mahogany desk. “But the guy didn’t seem too worried?”

“No. He was just watching me dance around, as if a customer being zapped to death was what happened on a typical Tuesday.”

“So, he must know about the woman’s powers. Do you think he’s a witch too?”

“I thought only girls could be witches.” Sal realized how stupid that sounded, but hoped his misogynistic boss didn’t notice. “Aren’t the guys called warlocks or something?”