Page 31

The day flies by. Between serving slices and Halloween-themed hand pies, cleaning tables in between customers, and going through three bowls of candy, it feels like we’ve only just opened when I glance at the clock on my register and realize that we’ll be closing up in ten minutes.

And that’s when Bonnie walks through the front door.

I don’t notice her at first. We’ve been slammed pretty much all day, and I’m currently bent over behind the display case, searching for the last pecan pie I know I boxed up earlier. I just had a phone call from Mrs. Robbins, one of my regulars. She’s having a Halloween party—like nearly everyone else in Shadowvale—and she wanted to add a pecan pie to her order. Since she already requested four others and is known to be a very generous tipper if I’ll bring them to her, I’m happy to save her the pecan pie. We arranged to meet at the Fall Festival for the exchange, and I want to make sure I have them ready to go after I close.

If only I can find it⁠—

“It’s not back there.”

I straighten so fast that I nearly crack my head against the glass of the counter.

Bonnie is standing on the other side of the counter, a tight smile on her face. Her dark eyes flicker over to where Vincent has come to stand next to me, still cradling the candy bowl against his chest before she addresses me again.

“The pecan pie you’re looking for, Kate. It’s on the counter in the back, mixed in with three apple pies.” She pauses for a moment. “It’s the second one down.”

I don’t ask her how she knows. Why bother? Yesterday, Bonnie was the mildly eccentric woman who ran the souvenir shop two doors down and thought I shouldn’t have brought in Mr. Whiskers. Now I know better. According to Vincent, she’s a witch, and witches and warlocks don’t get along.

No wonder she was never a fan of Mr. Whiskers. I thought she just wasn’t fond of cats, and the way she scrunches her nose a little when she sees the black ‘cat ears’ headband I put on before opening, I haven’t changed my mind. But there’s more to it than that. She must’ve known he was a warlock cursed to be a cat, and the way she’s watching him now makes it clear that she knows exactly who the six-foot-tall blond standing at my shoulder is.

He gives her a Cheshire Cat-like smile. “Hello, Bonnie.”

Her face pinches. “Vincent.”

Yup. I was right. She knows him. How? No clue, except for the fact that they both have magic and seemed to have lived in Shadowvale for a long, long time. I guess, when you’re both sharing a similar secret, you know all the other, er, supes in the area⁠—

Bonnie sighs. “Did you tell Kate?”

“That I’m her cat? That one of your sister witches cursed me? That she’s my only hope to still have thumbs tomorrow? That you’re a witch, too? Yup. I don’t keep secrets from my mate, Bonnie. I’ve told her everything.”

True, but I’m currently having a mini heart attack because it is true. He says that so boldly, I don’t know what I would’ve done if anyone else in the shop had overheard him. Luckily, it’s just the three of us, and instead of continuing to panic, I gape at the two supernaturals instead.

Because Bonnie? She just nods as though she expected that answer. “Good. I wouldn’t have wanted to interfere. I like Kate. I’d hate it if some warlock hurt her.” Her gaze lands on me again. “Has he hurt you?”

I startle. “Vincent? Um. No.”

She nods. “Good.” Another peek his way. “I see you didn’t get ink this year.”

Vincent touches the black marks tattooed on his upper arm. “I only did that once. I was bored. I thought it would disappear once I returned to my fur, but the following Halloween, it was back.” He sniffs. “It was an experiment. I wouldn’t expect a witch to understand that.”

“Mm-hmm.” Her gaze moves to his head. “Maybe instead of getting another tattoo, you should use this Halloween to get a haircut.”

Vincent immediately ruffles his shaggy blond hair before looking at me.

“Do you like it this length, pumpkin?”

I should say no. I should absolutely say no because the smug bastard is clearly dragging me into whatever weird feud exists between him and Bonnie.

Instead, I look at his hair.

It falls around his forehead and curls a little near his ears. It’s just long enough to look messy without looking unkempt, and I already know from waking up beside him that it gets adorably wild after he sleeps.

“Yes?”

His grin is instant. “See?”

Bonnie has to work hard to hide her smile. I know how she feels. Even when you want to dislike Vincent, it’s impossible. He really is like Mr. Whiskers that way. No matter how overbearing and stubborn he is, he gets under your skin to the point that you’ll stay frozen on the couch for ten additional minutes despite having to pee super bad just because the big ol’ lump is comfy.

Meanwhile, Vincent looks unbearably pleased with himself as he casually slings his arm over my shoulder.