Page 26 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

Makes sense. If I was the Alpha, I’d bar that from a supe town, too. Sure, it has some beneficial properties—mainly for witches and their potions, like my scent-dampening charm—but the risks don’t outweigh those benefits.

“Of course he doesn’t,” cuts in the wolf. “Only the apothecary carries it. Good thing Joey’s got a part-time job over there, working for the witch who runs it. It’s the only place you can get your paws on the stuff in town.”

“And it doesn’t bother him?”

The wolf female shrugs. “He’s a rat. Nothing bothers him.” Her head turns, gold eyes looking me over as I do my best to appear innocent. No, I’m not eavesdropping on every word you say, why do you ask? She taps her nails on the top of the pastry display, the tips of her claws clicking against the glass. “My card? Our scones?”

Oh. Right. I hand her the debit card still in my hand, then pass her the bag full of scones she ordered.

She flashes me a smile that’s all fang before bumping her hip into that of her companion. Nodding at the door, she heads for it without so much as a ‘thank you’.

That’s okay. I should be thanking her for my first lead.

As soon as I close, it looks like I’m going to see a rat about some wolfsbane.

CHAPTER 8

PREY CIRCLE

Mother goes sneaking, but she’s not very good at it.

Lucky for her, she has Gus to supervise,

but, wait, where is she going now?

— gus

Welp. That was the plan, at least.

I had every intention of finishing up my closing duties, feed Gus dinner, grabbing something quick to eat myself, then taking a trip across Moonburrow. Right after those two customers left, I checked to make sure no one else had entered Dough You Believe in Magic before reaching for my phone.

I try not to keep it out when I’m working. I’m a one-female show here. I joke that Gus manages the bakery, but it’s pretty much the truth. He supervises; I do everything else. I’m already so busy. If I distract myself with my phone, I’ll never get it done.

Of course, that means that my family knows that they can’t reach me during the day. That doesn’t stop Mom from trying, and when I saw she called me three times and checked in by text, I resigned myself to the inevitable.

I usually talk to my parents at least once a week. Anything more has me wanting to bash my head into the nearest flat surface. Anything less and Mom starts getting the idea that I’m avoiding them, that maybe it’s time I give up on living by myself and return to Onancock.

Pass. I bet there are at least four opossum males she was ready to introduce me to as a prospective mate. She wants me to return to the clan, settle down, start a family. I told her jokingly once that I have. That Gus is my son. She wasn’t amused.

Hm. I wonder how she would react if I mentioned that Max got the ridiculous idea that Gus is my mate…

We’ve come to a small compromise. I let them know that I’m alive and well, Mom and Dad don’t hop in a car and drive from Virginia to Maryland. It’s not that far of a drive, but I much prefer loving my parents from a distance. Even if that means that I get stuck on the phone with her for over an hour, doing mental gymnastics to keep from blurting out: I found a dead predator who was killed with one of my cupcakes.

Somehow, I manage, though I’ll tell you that it got a whole lot longer when, suddenly, she put me on hold and, when she came back on the line, she had Grandma Jean with her.

You think an Alpha is an excellent lie detector? Max has nothing on a witch who mated an opossum shifter and watched her daughter do the same.

Of course, that just meant that I couldn’t lie to Grandma Jean. That was easy. Everything I told her was the truth. About how successful the bakery has been since I took over, how I’ve met some of her old friends… I even reluctantly confess to the Can’t Resist Cupcakes fiasco.

Pro-tip from you to me. If you don’t want to get in trouble for a big thing—like, I don’t know, getting yourself involved in a murder mystery—then you should take the knock and admit to something less worrisome. Mom was horrified, but Grandma Jean just laughed in that husky way she has, warning me to read all the fine print when it comes to the recipes in her book.

She did offer to cut her trip to Europe short. If Moonburrow needed her… if I needed her… she’d come back tomorrow.

When I jumped up and hurriedly assured them both that I was fine and Grandma Jean shouldn’t have to change her plans for my sake, my words rang with absolute truth. I’m already in this mess. I don’t need to get my family caught up in it, too.

By the end, Mom agreed to stay in Virginia, Grandma was getting ready to visit Spain, and I had to swallow my disappointment that it was probably too late to go to the apothecary.

I looked it up earlier. I didn’t even know Moonburrow had an apothecary, but considering there were more than a few witches who made up their small coven in town, I guess it made sense. Witches ‘n’ Things was about a ten-minute ride to the east end of Moonburrow, in a decidedly more… witchy side of town. There was a coffee shop with skulls in the window on one side of it; a hattery with a tendency to the more pointed kinds on the other.