Page 10 of My Blind Date is a Werewolf

“And I’m actually working. There’ll be some VIPs at this shindig and my editor wants me to write a puff piece about it. God, what has my life been reduced to?” Eden piped up, her heart-shaped face pulling in a disgusted scowl. “I miss the days when I did real journalism—nothing against the Mystic Cove Tribune, but this ain’t it, chief. If I have to write one more article like this, I’ll seriously lose my mind. Anyway, you made the mistake of thinking you have a choice in this matter, Liv. You’re coming with us and that’s final.”

I begged, argued, threatened, and even tried to bribe my sister and cousin, but fifteen minutes later, I was riding shotgun in Eden’s sedan as we drove into the heart of Mystic Cove. My feet were crying for mercy, but I’d shoved them into heeled gladiator sandals and wore a knee-length canary yellow dress. I couldn’t be bothered to do anything fancy with my hair and let it hang down my back and shoulders in its natural loose waves.

I don’t know what possessed me to tell Angie and Eden about what Beverley had told me except for the fact that I could not stop thinking about it and needed to share it with someone before my heart and head both exploded.

“So, Beverley came into the shop after closing today.” The words were barely out of my mouth when Angie let out a sharp gasp in the backseat and the car swerved into the next lane from Eden yanking too forcefully on the steering wheel. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she gaped at me. Beverley Barnes was practically a local celebrity in our neck of the woods. Of course, her matchmaking prowess would be the first thing their minds raced to.

“Shut the front door! Who is the lucky guy?” Angie thumped a hand on the headrest of my seat, nearly yanking strands of my hair with her white-tipped acrylic nails.

“Watch it,” I hissed, gathering up my thick locks and draping them over my shoulder and glaring at my sister before staring out the window. Resting my chin on my hand, I watched the passing scenery as the quiet suburban neighborhood with the manicured lawns and warm glow coming from living room windows gave way to the thick brush of forest that seemed to blanket most of the neighborhoods and half the town. Within a few minutes we would break through the crush of thick, gigantic trees and would be welcomed into the town proper by sparkling streetlights.

The Halloween fervor was starting to make itself known. Paper ghosts were stung between the streetlamps and piles of jack-o-lanterns sat on street corners.

“I don’t know who he is, just that she claims to have found my one true love.” I ignored the slight twinge of arrhythmia happening in my chest. The entire drive home, I’d been wracking my brain, going through a mental catalog of the single men in Mystic Cove and failed to picture any of them as my one true love. But there was nothing to suggest that he might be from around here. Our town was a tourist haven. Even though we hadn’t hit the peak of the winter tourist season yet, we had some stragglers from the summer. Or maybe the dude was breezing through town on business, like Dustin.

Crap! What if it was Dustin? No way. I’d rather wind up a bitter old woman than throw my hat in that ring again. After his entitled display at Jumpin’ Beans and the ostentatious bouquet of “apology” roses, you couldn’t pay me enough to touch him with a ten-foot pole.

“Why not? She can’t just dump something that huge on you and not tell you who the man of your dreams is. Should we swing by her cottage and wheedle the truth out of her?” Eden asked. Even after all that brouhaha of her needing to write an article about the wine tasting event if she wanted to keep her job, I knew that she would turn the car around and head for Beverley’s cottage in a second if I asked her to.

I shot both girls a quelling stare. “There’s no need for any of that. She won’t tell me who he is because I shut her down. I feel like none of you were listening when I told you I am on a dating break.”

There was another round of protests and griping, Angie and Eden speaking over each other. “Nothing you say is going to change my mind. Besides, if fate intends for me to be with this person, then we’ll find our way to each other eventually. Right now, I’m focusing on me, myself, and I.” I let out a grunt of finality.

“Why do the two have to be mutually exclusive? You can go on this journey of self-discovery or whatever and fall in love at the same time. We’re not saying you should run down the aisle with this guy. You can still take your time getting to know him and learn who he is as a person.”

“Exactly.” Eden picked up Angie’s thread seamlessly, as if the two of them had been having a silent conversation without me. “There’s no need to dismiss Beverley’s revelations out of hand. You deserve to be happy, Liv. And if you can look me dead in the eye and tell me that you couldn’t give a crap about meeting your mate, if you can tell me that riding solo is what you really, really want, then Angie and I will back off. But if there’s an inkling—no matter how small—in your heart that wants to grab onto this chance, then do it.”

The brilliant jewel that was The Scarlet Season came into view and saved me from answering. I could feel the girl’s concerned gazes on me as we walked into the hotel’s grand ballroom.

“Aren’t these things usually hosted outside at vineyards?” I chirped with false cheer as I took in the ruby red ballroom. I assumed the bold color was what gave the hotel its name, but don’t quote me on that. The walls were a rich, lush red with gold trimmings, and everything about it exuded sensuality.

“Oh, Mom’s over there. What is she doing at the mayor’s table?” Angie scowled at the unusual pairing as mom laughed at something Hank Granger—our esteemed mayor—was saying.

Mom was the only one out of place at that table, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. But she was a charge nurse a year or two away from retiring, not as high profile as the mayor, the police chief, or Catherine Hawthorne, who was the head witch (or whatever they were called) of the Mystic Cove Coven. There were two men and a woman I didn’t recognize, most likely the guests of honor, and they all looked as expensive as all get out.

“Now that you mention it, she has been looking twitterpated recently. I stopped by the hospital during her evening shift last week to drop off those eclairs she loves so much, and there was this huge bouquet of orchids at the nurses’ station. I had to pry it out of one of the younger nurses, but word is Mom’s got an admirer,” I said, my lips twitching as I kept from laughing at my older sister’s horrified look.

“And you think it’s the mayor?” she gasped.

“Why not? Wasn’t he taken in for a mild cardiac event last month? As the head nurse, he and Aunt Josie would have spent some time in each other’s company while he was hospitalized. Now, where is my mother?” Eden asked absently, searching the room for her mom.

“Jeez, I need a drink. Can you imagine having the mayor as our step-dad?” Angie gave a mock shudder and asked Eden if there were designated seating areas or if she could sit down anywhere.

An usher dressed up in a classic black and white uniform approached us and helped us find the table Eden had snagged for us. The round tables were covered in cream table cloths with red damask skirts beneath. Soon after we sat down, we were served with platters of appetizers—a selection of cheeses, grapes, pickled onions, chutney, and a varied array of crackers. I was hungrier than I thought, having had potato salad and a smoothie for lunch ages ago.

While I chomped on the appetizers, Angie leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Is it too soon to get up and sample one of the wine stations, or do they bring them to us?”

Tables were stationed around the ballroom featuring different wines for sampling. I shrugged in response and asked her to bring me one.

“There’s the hospital director. Let me see if I can get my twenty questions in. Don’t have too much fun without me.” Eden winked, popping a green grape into her mouth. Angie left soon after, and my gaze flicked back to the mayor’s table. Mom hadn’t seen us and was still cozying up to the mayor and his friends.

There was a slight pinch of pain in my chest at seeing my mother looking at another man with the same soft look of adoration she used to give my father. But I was glad that she was moving on and finding happiness again. To say we’d all been devastated by Dad’s passing was an understatement. If he’d been sick prior to his death, then maybe we would have been prepared for his loss. But Jon Michaels had been healthy as an ox, a vivacious, larger-than-life, barrel of a man whose laughter could lighten up any room. Dad still had many years left in him until some drunk left him bleeding out on the side of the road after rear-ending his car so hard that it rolled over a couple of times before ramming into a tree.

Although Mayor Hank Granger was not the first man that came to mind—he and Dad couldn’t be more different if they tried—I would not begrudge her this. And now that I was thinking it over, it felt like the universe was sending me subliminal messages.

Angie got married to Paul, her third husband after two miserable and short-lived marriages, and was the happiest she could be. Mom had her sparkle back. She’d aged ten years after Dad’s death, but she looked as radiant as a spring flower sitting beside Hank. Both my mother and Angie were welcoming their second and third chances at love with open arms. But then there was me…

“Oliva? What a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here, but I’m sure glad I came.” Dustin’s voice was an unwelcome intrusion into my thoughts. He was standing just off to my right. I had to tilt my head up to get a good look at him. Like every other man in the ballroom, he was all spiffed up in a three-piece suit and polished to sparkling perfection. I sat up straighter, wondering if he would cause a scene if I up and walked away from him without saying a word.

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