“I’m Emerson.” He pulls his wallet from his back pocket, removes a card, and then offers it to me. “If you ever need me, that’s my direct number. We don’t have a lot of crime, but tourists can be unpredictable.”
“Thank you.” I place the card in a zippered section of my purse, hoping I never have to use it.
“I’m looking forward to the reopening of your tea shop.” He nods to Ash, bidding him a good day, and then returns to his horse. “Glad to have you in town.”
I stare after him, quietly delighted. I’ve never seen a real, live mounted officer.
“His horse isn’t terrified of him?” I ask Ash when the man is out of earshot.
“You discerned he’s a shifter?” he asks curiously.
“A wolf, right?”
“Impressive.”
I shrug, pressing my lips together to hide my pleased smile. “I grew up around a lot of shifters, and I have a bit of a talent for identifying magic. My father made a game of it when I was young.”
“I see.” Then, answering my question, Ash says, “The local sheriff has the horses around his men from the time they’re foals. It desensitizes them.”
“Are all the local law enforcement officers wolves?”
“All but Malcolm. He’s an ogre. I expect you’ll meet him soon, though Emerson is usually stationed in town.”
“I’ve never spent any real time in a diverse fae community,” I admit. “I’m fascinated with it all—I feel like a human.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
I nod, watching a group of tourists ride by on their perfectly modern bikes. “If you say so.”
“The day is getting away from us. Let’s meet your neighbors in the square and then head to the nursery. There will be plenty of time to acquaint yourself with everyone else later.”
I agree, and the councilman leads me across the street to a single-story building with white plaster siding and wooden trim. It looks like a small, modern ski chalet.
The sign on the building reads, “Willow and Cedar.”
“This is Willow’s shop,” Ash says as we pause for one of the horse-drawn trolley carriages.
“Like the sign says.”
“Yes.” Ash almost smiles. “It’s a clothing and fine jewelry boutique. Willow started it with her husband, but now she runs it with her granddaughter, Meg.”
We arrive at the boutique just as someone steps out.
Ash catches the door, holding it open for the pretty young woman. “Hello, Meg. Excellent timing. I was just coming to introduce you to our new tea shop owner.”
Meg’s soft green eyes pass over me curiously. Her hair is light brown, and her skin is fair. She’s probably in her early twenties, with a tall, graceful build.
Another high fae.
“I’m Kit,” I say.
“Meg,” she responds warmly. “It’s nice to meet you. Will you be opening soon?”
“By the Firefly Festival.” I pause. “Probably.”
“Yes,” Ash says firmly. “By the festival.”
Meg laughs. “Whenever it is, I’ll be looking forward to it. Now, I’m afraid I need to run. We’ve been swamped this morning, and Grandmother says she needs chocolate.”
