Page 23 of Shamrocks & Second Chances

“Unless the theft was never about the gold,” he says quietly.

Our gazes meet, and something electric passes between us. A realization begins to form, nebulous at first, then crystallizing into something clear and undeniable. “Someone wanted you to come to me for help.”

Seamus nods. “And they wanted us to go on this wild goose chase together.”

“But who would do that?” I ask, though I’m starting to have my suspicions.

Seamus and I exchange looks, confusion shifting into realization. Someone put the chest here. Someone with access tomy café, who knew about Seamus’s gold and had enough power to take it from him in his realm and lure him back to Evershift haven. Someone who had the magical ability to orchestrate this entire charade.

“Let’s backtrack,” I say, standing up and pacing the small space. “The riddle pointed us here deliberately. The necklace being retrieved and enchanted meant someone had been watching us from the start.”

“And the ridiculousness of the whole hunt,” he says, rising to his feet. “It was never about the gold at all.”

The final piece clicks into place. Who had access to my café’s storage room?

I groan, covering my face with my hands. “Oh, my gods. It’s them. It’s ALL of them.”

Seamus raises an eyebrow. “All of whom?”

“The town,” I say, dropping my hands. “Everyone in Evershift Haven. Think about it. Who has keys to my café? Grizelda, for emergencies. Throk, because he installed the security system. Etienne and Crystal, because they sometimes use my kitchen for their midnight baking when the inn’s oven is being temperamental.”

“Everyone knows about my gold, of course. All leprechauns have a stash, but only a couple of possibilities spring to mind of who could finesse a spell across realms to extract it without me noticing. Lady Maeve, for one, but I’m not sure that’s her style.”

“Grizelda could do it,” I say grimly. “And who would have the magical ability to retrieve a necklace I threw into the Luminous Lagoon two years ago? Grizelda, Marina, Chronos. Maybe even Suzette and Candice Winters, who’ve both found magical ability since coming here. In other words, half the magical practitioners in town.”

Hecate yawns dramatically. “You two are so slow sometimes. Of course, it was everyone. Who else would care enough about your love life to go to all this trouble?”

I stare at my familiar. “You knew. You knew this whole time.”

Hecate’s tail swishes innocently. “I may have overheard some planning sessions. Hard to say. My memory is selective.”

“Unbelievable,” I mutter, marching out of the storage room and back into the café proper. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

Seamus follows me, carrying his chest of gold. He sets it on the counter and leans against it, fighting a smirk that’s threatening to take over his entire face. “So, the people of Evershift Haven stole my gold, hid it in your café, and sent us on a wild chase just to force us to talk to each other?”

Hecate hops onto the counter beside the chest, licking her paw with exaggerated nonchalance. “Bold of you to assume they were forcing anything.”

I cover my face with my hands, the realization washing over me that I’ve been expertly played by my own customers, neighbors, and friends. Every step of this ridiculous journey was orchestrated. All of it is designed to throw Seamus and me together, to make us confront our past and the feelings we still have for each other.

“I’m going to kill them,” I say through my fingers. “Every last one of them. Starting with Grizelda.”

Seamus laughs, the sound rich and genuine. “Come on, Bella. You have to admit it’s a little funny.”

I drop my hands to glare at him. “Funny? They manipulated us. They made you think your precious gold was stolen. They sent us all over town on a wild goose chase.”

“And in the process,” he says softly, “They got us talking again. Really talking.”

Hecate snorts. “A bit more than that, wouldn’t you say?” She quells slightly when I glare at her, but she’s clearly not really intimidated.

The anger drains out of me, leaving behind a complicated mix of emotions I’m not ready to sort through. He’s right. Without this ridiculous scheme, I would have slammed the door in Seamus’s face the moment he showed up at my café. I never would have learned why he really left, or that he still cares for me, or that the feelings I’ve been trying to bury for two years are still very much alive.

“I’m still angry with them,” I say, but there’s no heat in my words.

“Of course, you are,” he says, his eyes twinkling, “And you’ll let them know it, in your own way. Probably by making their coffee just a little too bitter for a week.”

I snort because he’s right. That’s exactly what I’ll do. “Throk’s getting decaf for a month. He won’t even know why he’s so tired all the time.”

Seamus laughs again, then grows serious. He rests a hand on the chest but doesn’t open it. Instead, he looks at me, his green eyes intense in the amber light of the café. “Now that we know what they were up to, what do you want to do about it?”

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