Page 48 of Blue Moon Mistress

But if he wanted to say something, his phone buzzes again and he curses.

Kissing me, he snatches up his keys. “I’ll see you tonight? At six?”

“Text me when you’re back at home and I’ll come by earlier.”

“The second I’m back in that door.”

I believe him. That’s why, once he’s gone… after I’ve stretched my well used muscles, I get up, tidy the spell mess in the kitchen and don’t waste time getting the rest of my tiny task list done.

My phone buzzes as I’m packing up an overnight bag.

I am home, and will patiently await your arrival.

Just have to swing by the store on the way, and I’ll be all yours.

All ours? Sounds like a deal.

The drive into town is uneventful… even if I see the sheriff sitting next to an old lumber storage warehouse that’s been converted into the office for an excavating company. He only glares at me as I go past.

“You’ve got nothing on me, asshole.”

Parking for the boardwalk is a nightmare—and I shouldn’t be surprised. With all the kids out for the day, half of them are here.

I dodge around kids on skateboards and groups of girls laughing at the kids on the skateboards. Another group is filming a dance. This is why I don’t come down here on the weekends.

They’ve got me so distracted, I almost run into the woman coming out of Wexxons. I only just manage to stop before we would have collided.

And in the split second I realize who she is, Aphrodite screeches my name.

“Scarlette!” She smiles so widely, I’d almost believe she was astonished to see me. “I hope you had a blessed Samhain.”

“I did,” It takes me a moment to regain my composure. “And you?”

“It was my first Samhain on my own and it was… oddly nice. You must love not having the pressures of the coven for the holidays.” She flips her hand in a dismissive motion. “So many old witches pushing their silly thoughts on those of us trying to progress with the times.”

Those “old witches” included both of our parents.

Aphrodite Lourdes had been born Anita Jane Lourdes, and while she’d kept her family’s last name—her lineage was one of the most prideful parts of her—Anita hadn’t held the right gravity for the respect and renown she’d felt she’d deserved.

“What are you doing in town?”

“Oh, gosh! I thought someone would have told you. I decided I needed a change of pace, so I’m relocating!” She says the last word with a sing-songy tune and throws her hands out as if I should be ecstatic. “I’d completely forgotten you’d disappeared into obscurity here. We will have to get together for lunch sometime soon so you can tell me the good the bad, and the ugly about the town.”

She hugs me, twirls about and leaves as if everything is set.

We aren’t friends.

We’ve never been friends.

And she’s acting like we used to hang out every Friday night.

“What.”

I pull out my phone.

“The.”

Dial my mother’s number.

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