What an incredible ass.

  Anger took over again, and she slowed to a walk as she rounded the corner. What had Aron been thinking, bringing his beautiful bride to her sister’s bakery? Guh! If he’d been anywhere near right at that moment, she’d have decked him. Selfish, cold-hearted, insensitive bastard. He didn’t deserve her.

  A gray and white ball of fluff fell into step right beside her, walking so close his little body leaned into her leg.

  “Gunner?” Frankie said. “What are you doing here?”

  The dog glanced up at her, wagged his tail, and let out a little bark.

  She paused and glanced back at the snow-blanketed street. Aron was nowhere to be found. Gods, was he a careless dog owner, too? Irritation filled her, followed by a faint wave of disappointment. Since her anger had kicked in, she would’ve really liked to give him a piece of her mind.

  “Come on, little buddy,” Frankie said, reaching down and scooping up the pup. “Let’s get you inside where your little paws won’t freeze.”

  The Lhasa apso snuggled in close to her chest and rested his head on her shoulder. Big brown eyes stared up at her with adoration. “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you? Acting all sweet and innocent after that display back at the bakery. Don’t think I don’t remember you chasing down that cat twice. Not to mention, you appear to be out on an unauthorized jaunt.”

  Gunner lifted his head and licked her right on the tip of her nose.

  Frankie laughed and scratched his ear. “Thanks for the kiss. That was very kind of you.”

  After walking up the hill at the end of the street, Frankie swept through the front door of Spell Bound, the used bookstore she owned. The magical bell chime played “White Wedding” by Billy Idol. It was spelled to play the most appropriate song for each individual visitor. Usually, the bell played Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years” when she used the front door, which was, admittedly, a rare occurrence. Most of the time, she used the back entrance and avoided it altogether. If her patrons didn’t love it so much, she’d have trashed it a long time ago.

  “This song choice must be because of you,” she told Gunner with a scowl.

  The dog’s ears twitched as he tilted his head to the side as if he were contemplating her words.

  “Never mind.” She ascended the grand staircase to the left of the entrance and bypassed the leather bound stacks of magical texts on her way to her office that overlooked the island. The long, floor-to-ceiling windows had frost on the edges, giving the room a delightful holiday feeling.

  She put Gunner on the floor, picked up her desk phone, and said, “Call Zinnia.”

  The sound of buttons being pushed, followed by the jingle of the phone, rang in her ear.

  “What is it, Frankie? I know seeing Aron was a shock. It was for me, too. But we’re slammed. No time to play counselor.”

  “That’s not why I’m calling,” Frankie said, taking no pains to keep her irritation out of her voice. Did her sister think she’d call on the day of a wedding for girl-talk therapy? Of course she did, Frankie had to admit. The love of her life had just walked into town and was marrying someone else.

  “Oh. Right. Sorry,” her sister said with an audible wince.

  “It’s fine. Listen, is Aron still there?”

  “No. He left shortly after you did.” She paused then added, “Why?”

  “His dog is here at Spell Bound. I was going to tell him to come get him.”

  “Really. That’s interesting,” Zinnia said with a soft chuckle.

  Frankie narrowed her eyes. “How so?”

  “It just is.” There was more laughter before she cleared her throat. “I’ll tell Velma. Is Gunner okay there with you until Aron can get him?”

  Frankie glanced down at the dog sitting patiently as he stared up at her. “Yeah, he’s fine now that he doesn’t have a cat to chase.”

  “I’m sure that helps. Okay, gotta run. See you later.” There was a click and the phone line went dead.

  Frankie picked up the dog once more, burying her face into his fur as she moved to the window. Outside, the snow had started to fall in thick, fluffy flakes. It really was a nice day for a white wedding.

  Chapter Three

  Frankie sat at her desk with Gunner in her lap, searching various websites for older spell books. Her inventory was low, and it wasn’t as if she could just order more from a supplier. Her customers demanded authentic, and if possible, rare spell books. There’d been a shift in the witch community over the last few years to get back to basics. Subtle and effective was preferred over flashy and short lived. She was quite in favor of the trend, but it did make finding inventory more of a challenge.

  She’d just added a couple of interesting books to her online shopping cart when there was a flash of light in the middle of her office, followed by the apparition of her fourth cousin twice removed. Heather Jean Mansfield was the most delicate woman Frankie had ever seen in real life. Frankie had always said that her pale skin, waif-like frame, and Kewpie Doll eyes had made her a haunting beauty. It was precisely for that reason that after her untimely death five years ago, Heather Jean had decided she’d spend the rest of her days haunting Frankie and her book shop. Since Heather Jean enjoyed helping customers, the arrangement suited Frankie just fine.

  Why she didn’t haunt the vampire that had accidentally killed her, Frankie didn’t know. If she’d been Heather Jean, Frankie would have spent every spare minute making his immortal life a living hell.

  “Aron is back in town.” Heather Jean lazily spun around in a circle, making her short skirt flare out.

  “I know.”

  She stopped. “You do? How?”

  “I ran into him at Zinnia’s. He’s getting married.” Frankie’s voice cracked on the word married. She cleared her throat and added, “I must be getting a bug or something.”

  “More like a stab wound to the heart,” Heather Jean said, placing her hands on her hips.

  Frankie ignored her and punched her credit card number into the computer.

  “What’s with the dog? New life companion? I know you like the canines.” The ghost snorted at her own joke, sat on the edge of the desk, and reached out to pet Gunner. But when her hand connected with his head, she scowled. “Being a ghost is total bullshit. It’s not fair you get a new familiar and I don’t.”

  Frankie’s head jerked up. “Familiar? No. He followed me home from the bakery. I’m just dog sitting until Aron can come get him.”

  “Dog sitting, huh?” Heather Jean shook her head. “Call it what you want, but from where I’m sitting, that dog isn’t going anywhere. You two have a connection.”

  “Pfft.” Frankie dismissed her. “Stop with that. Now go organize the shelves or something. I have work to do.”

  Her cousin rolled her eyes and floated off toward the shelves. Just before she rounded the corner she started singing, “Organize the books, Cinderelly. Clean the cobwebs, Cinderelly. Stop annoying me, Cinderelly.”

  “I could make you clean the toilet!” Frankie called after her. “Then you’d have toilet germs for eternity.”

  “You could try, but I’d just go haunt Zinnia instead,” she called back.

  She would, too. And Frankie would lose her free help. That would suck. But it would suck more to lose her company. Heather Jean was a fixture at Spell Bound, not just because she pitched in, but because the customers loved her, too. “Forget the toilet. Do whatever you want just as long as I get some time to finish my work.”

  “I always do.”

  Smiling to herself, Frankie patted Gunner’s head and turned her attention to her laptop. She effortlessly ran through three weeks of receipts and was starting to think that for the first time in months, her books were going to balance without any issue. But then the numbers on her screen started to blur, and her eyes watered.

  “No,” she moaned, and grabbed her suddenly aching head, trying to stop the impending barrage of visions. Her breathing turned ragged, and no matter how hard she fought, she was powerless to stop the onslaught of images.

  “Frankie?” Heather Jean appeared right in front of her desk, and the last thing Frankie saw before her world turned black around the edges was her cousin’s worried expression.

  The vision took over, and suddenly she was standing in the ceremony meadow where most of the weddings were performed on the island. To the left was the sacred river, and to the right the winter garden was in full bloom. The red berries on the winterberry bushes, combined with the shock of the red and yellow spidery blooms of the witch hazel, were beautiful against the evergreens and pristine snow.

  An arch decorated with flickering candles sat facing the drama of the ocean, while white folding chairs were set up and waiting for wedding guests. Besides the glowing gold pentacles hanging from every third chair, the decorations were minimal and not at all what she’d expect of a woman who was wearing a literal rose wedding dress and had commissioned a cake so fancy it had taken them days to create the intricate magical symbols. If it hadn’t been for Aron holding his arm out to his bride, she would’ve guessed the ceremony was decorated for some other couple.

  Her eyes landed on Aron in his perfectly tailored, dark gray suit. She wanted to catch his eye, see for herself that he was truly over her, but she was only there as an observer of the future.

  Velma clutched a wand that had a single black lily attached with an elaborate silver ribbon, and she gave Aron a nervous smile as she slipped her arm through his.

  They were incredible. Both gorgeous and elegant. The perfect storybook couple who were made for each other.

  Pain burst in Frankie’s chest, rippling through her like a lightning bolt. This must be what a broken heart feels like, she thought, the rest of her body numb as the scene shifted.

  Another vision overtook her, and this time she was the one standing under the candlelit arch. She was holding her favorite spell book that had a small bouquet of snowdrop flowers tied to the cover. She couldn’t see her groom, but beside her, sitting patiently at her feet in the snow, there was one small, gray and white dog.

  The vision vanished, and Frankie let out a gasp, desperately trying to recall the details of her wedding. Snow was on the ground, and the arch looked exactly as it did today. But that wasn’t anything unusual. Most of the witches chose minimal decorations, instead relying on the natural beauty of the island as a backdrop.

  But Gunner had been there.

  She glanced down at the dog now snoring softly next to her chair. Had Heather Jean been right? Was the snuggly little creature really her familiar? If he was at her wedding, then that could be one explanation.

  “Here.” A mug of what looked to be hot chocolate floated through the air and landed gently on the desk in front of her. “I think you can use this.”

  “Thanks,” Frankie said and picked up the mug. Heather Jean had been around long enough to know visions usually zapped Frankie’s energy. A little bit of a sugar fix always seemed to perk her right back up. Frankie took a sip and decided Heather Jean was a genius. The hot chocolate was laced with Bailey’s Irish Cream, just the way she liked it on cold winter nights. “Promise me you’ll never haunt anyone else,” Frankie told her.

  Heather Jean laughed and started to say something. But at that moment, Gunner woke from a sound sleep, jerked up, and ran over to the window, barking with exuberance. Frankie followed and let out a sigh when she spotted the dark gray wolf trotting up to her door. Why the heck was he in wolf form?

  “Oops. Time for me to go,” Heather Jean said. “Things could get messy with that.” The ghost pumped her eyebrows and gave Frankie a suggestive look. “And by messy, I mean clothes on the floor and naughty romps in the stacks.”

  “There’s not going to be any naughty—”

  “Later.” Heather Jean snapped her fingers, and the ghost vanished into thin air.

  “She’s lost her mind,” Frankie said to Gunner. The dog wagged his tail in agreement. “I knew I could count on you.”

  She glanced out the window one more time and spotted Aron staring up at her. He jerked his head toward the door, then sat on his haunches and waited.

  Shaking her head, Frankie trotted down the stairs with Gunner at her side and tossed the door open for the massive wolf. He had a pack strapped to his back, likely carrying his clothes. She hoped so at least, because the last thing she needed was a hot, naked wolf in her shop. Especially since she had no plans of letting Heather Jean’s prediction come true. Aron was engaged. Off limits. Taken. Old history.

  Her face flushed as she pictured his long muscular body stretched out beside her on her bed. Her mouth went dry, and suddenly she had a change of heart on the naked shifter idea. She was pretty certain the only thing she needed in her life was someone to remind her of what she’d been missing the last year.

  Aron’s wolf gaze landed first on Gunner, then up at Frankie.

  “Well, come in,” she said, her voice low and rough after her indecent thoughts.

  The wolf sauntered in, setting off the bell. “White Wedding” played again.

  “I told you it must be you,” Frankie said to Gunner. As the song played on, she steeled herself and tried to think of anything other than the wedding that was supposed to happen later in the evening. She looked at Aron. “I suppose you’re here for your dog.”

  The big wolf shook his massive head then moved past her and into the restroom to the right. No doubt he was going to shift. Back in the day, he would’ve just shifted right in front of her. Too bad she was going to miss that. Of course, it was probably better that he didn’t. Right?

  “I’ll be upstairs,” she called through the door, desperate to not only run from him, but also her inappropriate thoughts. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  No response. Fine, she thought. Better that way she supposed.

  “Stay here, Gunner. Aron will be out to get you in a moment.” She spun and took the stairs two at a time, eager to put distance between herself and the wolf. All those months of hoping he’d come back to town, wishing she could see him or talk to him, had been a fantasy. Because now that he was here, she couldn’t stand to be around him. Not when she knew they’d never repair their broken relationship. Hopefully he’d just tuck Gunner in his arms and go. If he was marrying another woman, she had nothing to say to him.

  She reclaimed her chair behind her desk, but just sat there… waiting. Gunner let out a yip and jumped up on her leg.

  “What the heck? I thought you were downstairs.” She reached down to pick him up. “What are you doing? You were supposed to be waiting for your papa.”

  “It looks more like he’s claiming you,” Aron said, emerging from a row of books. He had jeans and a long sleeved thermal shirt on. No shoes. He was also holding a plain white paper bag that looked a lot like take out from Magic Maven’s.

  Gunner’s head turned in Aron’s direction, and he lifted his little black nose, scenting the air. His body went taught with anticipation, but he made no move to leave Frankie’s lap.

  “I brought lunch.” Aron held the bag up as he grabbed another chair and placed it in front of her desk.

  Frankie, who’d been staring wide-eyed as he made himself at home, asked, “If you aren’t here for your dog, what are you doing here?”

  “I already told you. Lunch. What does it look like I’m doing?” He flashed his dimple as he passed her a wrapped sandwich. “Zinnia mentioned none of you had found time to eat yet. I figured you must be starving after slaving over that cake all morning. Here.” He pushed a cardboard bowl of garlic parmesan fries in her direction.

  She stared at the fries then turned her attention to the wrapped sandwich. “Tri-tip?”

  “Would I bring you anything else?”

  “Not likely.” It was her favorite lunch and a meal they’d shared countless times before. Too hungry to resist, she shoved a fry in her mouth. The garlic and salt was heaven on her tongue, eliciting a moan of pure pleasure.

  “Gods,” Aron breathed, his voice low and wistful with longing.

  Her eyes snapped to his, and she nearly choked on the damn thing when she said, “Seriously? You’re getting married today.” She stood, her body vibrating with pure disgust, and picked up Gunner, holding the dog out to him. “Take him and go. Our time here is done.”

  He leaned back in his chair, propped one foot on his opposite knee, and said, “No. Not until I say what I came here to say.”

  She let out a growl of frustration. Gunner followed suit, baring his teeth to his owner. “Oh, perfect. Your dog doesn’t even like you.”

  Aron laughed. “Not when I’ve pissed off his mistress, he doesn’t.”

  “Cut the crap, Aron,” she scolded, suddenly very tired as she sat back down. She placed Gunner on the floor and gave him a gentle nudge in Aron’s direction. When she glanced back up, she narrowed her eyes at the man sitting across from her. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I want no part of it. Go back to your fiancée and just leave me alone, okay?”

  Aron leaned in, his eyes turning midnight blue. The old-friends vibe he’d been exuding vanished and was replaced by something raw and intense. “She isn’t my fiancée.”

  Silence fell between them. Was he really sitting there lying to her? She raised one eyebrow. “I saw you and her walking down the aisle in my vision. Whatever you’re trying to pull, it’s not going to work here. I think you’d better go. Just like last time. No explanation. No goodbyes. Just go before you make this situation worse.”

  He curled his hand into a fist and his jaw tightened, but he didn’t tear his gaze away. “I’m not going to marry her. There’s only one person I ever wanted to marry, and she’s sitting right across from me.”

  Chapter Four

  Pain combined with sheer elation rippled through her. What was he trying to do to her? “Have you lost your goddamned mind?” Tears stung her eyes, and she forced herself to blink them back. “It’s been twelve months, Aron. I haven’t heard from you at all. And now you’re here with a fiancée, who you’re marrying in five hours, and you’re trying to convince me all you ever wanted was me. Are you crazy? Do you not hear yourself right now?”

 

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