I inclined my head. “As I said, there are some things I won’t be able to share, but if you agree to help with some knowledge about things like ceremonies and rituals, it could help greatly.” I eyed her with a hint of challenge. “If you have that sort of knowledge. If not, perhaps you could point me in the direction of someone who does?”
I bit back my grin as her back straightened and her chin lifted. “Of course, I know about rituals and ceremonies. I’d be happy to answer your questions and help in any way that I can. When did you want to have this discussion?” I’d pegged her correctly; Bridgette had a competitive streak, it seemed.
“How about tonight? We can have a bite to eat, and you can tell me everything you know.”
I watched as she bit her lip and hesitated, seeming to be struggling internally. She looked up at me through her lashes as she pretended to study the card. “Tonight? I think I can do that,” she finally acquiesced.
I pushed away from the counter and tapped the glass once. “Great. Give me a call once you close up for the night. I’ll pick you up.”
Her head nodded, but she didn’t look back at my face, leaving me with a need to demand those gorgeous mossy green eyes to lock with mine again. “Okay, Detective. Take care.”
Before I turned to leave, I watched as she slipped my business card into her apron pocket, and then she turned towardthe two young women who were perusing the collection of gemstones and rocks along the opposite wall. As I pulled open the door, I heard her greet them with the same bright, melodic tone she’d called out to me when I first arrived and felt the same punch to the gut I’d had then.
I didn’t know Bridgette Waters yet, but I would. Our entire interaction was brief, hardly more than an introduction, but I’d felt the pull to her before I’d even seen her beautiful face. As a cop and now a homicide detective, I had learned to rely on my gut instincts. They saved me from some incredibly dangerous situations, or guided me to find much needed evidence in order to close a case. I wasn’t about to ignore the insistent twisting now. Something was telling me that the witch would mean a whole fuck of a lot to me.
But more than that, I believe she felt the same exact thing I had.
Chapter
Four
BRIDGETTE
Icouldn’t have counted how many times I pulled that business card out of my pocket just to stare at the name printed there in black ink. Detective Logan Storm. It was a sexy name, fit for the sexy-as-sin detective.
Our whole initial meeting was full of mixed emotions swinging fromholy shit; that man is hotto,of course, he only wants to ask me questions because I’m a witch.What would a sexy older detective want to do with me? I mean, he wasn’tthatmuch older than me, at least not more than eight to ten years. It was a reasonable age gap. The worst part of meeting him and having all those emotions flooding me at once was the overriding one screaming at me to get away from him.
As I stood at the register fingering the edges of the business card that was nowhere near as stiff and crisp as it was when Detective Storm had handed it to me, the bell over the door rang. I jerked my head up, caught off guard. The greeting died on my lips as I watched Shayla stride in with her middle finger up and waving in Mildred’s general location. I just shook my headand slipped the card back into my pocket after giving it one last glance.
“Hey, girl,” Shayla called out as she approached. She was wearing one of her Boss Bitch outfits, as she is fond of referring to the pantsuit. It made her already long, lithe body look even more streamlined while showing off her femininity to perfection. My best friend could have been on the runways in Milan.
“Hey, Shay.” I knew my returning smile was weak at best. It was most definitely forced. I started fiddling with the cup of pens next to the register and decided it had been too long since I’d cleaned them. While I reached for a disinfectant wipe under the counter, I saw Shayla’s eyebrows draw together as she watched me.
“Okay, what happened? Do I need to tit punch someone?”
My face brightened as I picked up the first pen and rubbed the wipe over the surface. “You’re the best friend in the whole world.” I shook my head as I grabbed a sparkly purple ballpoint with a matching puffball attached to the cap. It was cute and fun, but germ city. “I blinked down at the pen and then slowly raised my head to look at my best friend. I could feel the first tear track down my cheek as I finally told her my greatest fear. “I think I met my fated mate today.”
It took Shayla a solid five seconds as she stared at me in shock before she burst into action. “Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Tell me everything.” She tossed her purse on the glass and rounded the counter. I fell into her arms as the dam finally broke on my emotions.
Through my sniffles, I relayed the meeting with Logan Storm.
“He isn’t even a little ugly?”
I shook my head ruefully. “No”
“Does he have good hair?”
“Great hair,” I pouted.
“What color eyes does he have?”
“Gray!” I wailed to the ceiling.
“Oh, damn,” Shayla breathed as she took in my words. Then I felt her fingers brush against mine as she took the purple puff ball pen away from me. I blinked back my tears and looked down to see the destruction I’d caused. Shayla tossed the pen in the garbage can on the floor and started wiping up all the little sparkly strands I had been pulling out of the puffball. “So your mate is hot, has great hair, fantastic eyes, and is a detective. Did he seem like a nice guy? Was he rude or pushy? Did he make you feel uncomfortable in any way?”
I was already shaking my head before she’d completed the question. “We didn’t speak that long, but I never felt any fear or trepidation being alone with a stranger. I did get the impression that he has an alpha-type personality.” I glanced up at Shayla with hopeful eyes. “Alphas are jerks, right? They are bossy and dominant, always trying to make demands? You know I don’t take demands well.”
Shayla cocked her head as she studied me. “Being an alpha male isn’t synonymous with being an asshole. You like him.”