Page 4 of Charmed and Dangerous

He snorted even as his bear inside pushed at him, as if agreeing with Sacha. He stuffed his bear back down. There was no way he would be mates with a timid mouse like Maeve, even if she was curvy and cute, with her wild, red, curly hair that made him want to see it down around her shoulders, and her wide, innocent blue eyes that made him think of lazy mornings and passion-filled nights.

Wait, where did those thoughts come from?

While he was thinking, his sister smirked at him from the counter. Then a crash came from the kitchen. “I okay!”

They both winced. She grimaced. “Think about it, Saul. She would be good for you.”

Sacha pushed into the kitchen area to deal with whatever chaos her demon spawn had created while unsupervised for two minutes, leaving Saul to consider her words. Fortunately, he didn’t have long to think as the door opened, and the mayor, Elwyn Norwood, entered, followed by his obsequious and thoroughly hapless nephew, Dilwyn.

“Saul! Just the bear I was looking for.”

“No, absolutely not. My taste buds are still recovering from last year, and I need them as a baker.” Saul was already shaking his head, knowing exactly what Elwyn was going to ask.

“Now, Saul. We need your support on Saturday. And we’ve added additional measures to make sure you won’t lose your taste buds this year, including more bezoars in case of disasters. But we won’t need them.” Elwyn gave a hearty laugh, echoed by Dilwyn but Saul didn’t join in.

“Are the Dupree sisters entering? Then there will be a disaster. Guaranteed.”

Elwyn just sighed. “The Grimsbane clan has always supported all our efforts. Your sister can’t this year and you wouldn’t want to let down the town of Grimm Mawr, would you?”

He glared at the balding fat man beaming in front of him. He hadn’t even voted for the obnoxious jerk, but there he was, in Saul’s bakery, knowing how to yank his chain. Family ties. If Saul didn’t do it, his mother would be all over his furry ass, then he wouldn’t have a moment’s peace. Damn it.

“Fine. But if I lose my taste buds again, I want your promise that I never have to do this again.”

Elwyn nodded eagerly and made an X across the region his heart should have been. “Absolutely, Saul. Thank you. See you Saturday.”

Chapter

Two

Saturday dawned bright and sunny. Maeve spent a couple of hours in her greenhouse, dead-heading plants, and weeding the beds. This was her sanctuary, her place of refuge when life got too crazy or she needed time for herself. Her father never came in here. He thought her hobby was cute, but not worthy of the Whisper name. She didn’t mind. This had been her mother’s place, and she felt close to her here. Mom had passed on several years ago, and since then her father sank further and further into his alchemical studies and forgot the world around him.

Her Great-Aunt Geillis knocked at the door, reminding her that it was time to leave. Her aunt had been the one to step in when her mother died, leaving behind a heartsick eight-year-old girl and a father who was content to bury himself in his alchemy studies, barely remembering to feed himself, much less his daughter. Maeve had been so lonely before her aunt had showed up, though she had been initially terrified of the dragon lady. Her aunt had been the one to find Maeve her familiar. Hazel had been a great friend to Maeve, and she adored the little honey badger.

Maeve had offered to work the shoppe during the festival, but the Duprees had declined. The shoppe would be closed during the BrewFest and Maeve would be needed as a tester. She hated being around all those people, but there was nothing she could do about that. The Duprees needed her support.

Her great-aunt separated from her as soon as they arrived at the festival grounds, off to gossip with her friends, though who they had left to gossip about was a mystery. They were all older than the hills and had few friends left, except each other. Maeve checked in at the testers’ booth and scrutinized the antidote array, assessing their supply level.

“Do you think they have enough for us this year? Last year, it was four months before I had any kind of taste buds in my mouth.”

The deep voice rumbled near her ear and she shivered, fighting the instinct to curve in on herself. Slowly, she pivoted to face Saul, cocking her head up so she could see him. “They have plenty for normal-sized people. I’m not sure there’s enough for overgrown oafs like you.”

She flipped her ponytail and sashayed away, but not before hearing his chuckle behind her. “The mouse has claws. Let the games begin.”

Her feet stuttered, and she stumbled but quickly regained her balance and kept going until she reached the Dupree sisters, who were huddled around their cauldron. Phoebe looked up, an expression of utter relief on her face. She seized Maeve’s arm.

“Do you have the rose petals?”

Maeve dug the bulging bag filled with fresh petals she’d gathered that morning out of her crossbody bag and handed it over. “Be careful not to crush them until you’re ready to use them or they’ll lose their potency.”

Tempest snatched them and laid them on the table. She slowly, almost reverently, opened the tissue paper that they werewrapped in, Fleur peering over her shoulder. “Maeve, these are beautiful. You truly have one of the best gardens in all of Grimm Mawr. Thank you so much.”

Phoebe hugged her. “Yes, thank you so much. By the way, how are you feeling?”

Maeve drew her aside, and both Fleur and Tempest watched them closely. “I meant to say something to you. I’m not sure what you did with your chamomile, but something was off with it. I’ve been restless, irritable, not able to sleep well since that tea. Maybe you brewed it wrong or used the wrong leaves.”

Phoebe glanced at her sisters and Maeve got the feeling that she was missing something, though everyone knew Phoebe was not good at cooking and making tea was not always her strong suit. “Is there something wrong? I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Phoebe blinked, then smiled and waved her hand as if passing off her concern. “Of course not. You know that I’m not always the best with tea. That’s Fleur’s area more than mine. I must have grabbed the wrong leaves or over steeped them. Are you feeling better?”

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