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Crap,I thought. Not again. Was I going to literally run into this guyevery timewe came into close proximity? Our cart wheels had locked together. I rattled my cart, trying to pull it back, but all I managed was to yank his forward.
“Would youstopdoing that? You’re making things worse,” he said, shooting me a look of contempt. It would have withered me,ifI cared about his opinion.
“Thenyouuntangle them,” I said. Not the apology I had planned on, but right now I wasn’t feeling altogether apologetic.
“I will, if you’d hold your cart still,” he countered.
Simultaneously, I gave one last yank, and his cart wheel rolled over his foot.
“Damn it!” He snarled, “For the love of all that’s holy, let go of your cart and I’ll separate them.”
Frowning—I didn’t like being talked to like that, but considering that I had just, perhaps, broken his toe, I figured he had the right to be miffed. I backed away, holding my coffee and purse. He bent down, his broad shoulders catching my attention. I didn’t like him, but I had to admit, the wolf shifter was built. He puttered with the wheels for a moment, then, still scowling, he stood.
“I’m not sure how this happened, but I can’t pry them apart. Go get another cart and we’ll transfer your bags to it. It’s going to take a wrench to wedge these apart.” Hands on his hips, he kicked his cart.
“Hey, knock it off. Violence isn’t the answer.” I glanced around and saw a couple spare carts near the doors. “Here,” I said, retrieving them. “One for you, one for me. I’ll transfer my groceries. You can be on your way.”
“I’ll help,” he said, stepping in to grab a bag of my groceries. Once again, I managed to step right in his way and he put his hand on my shoulder to push me back. I shook him off and he snorted. “Good gods, chill out. I’m not making a pass.”
“Chill out? You’re tellingmetochill out?” Something about his attitude and abrupt nature pissed the hell out of me. “You’re the one who sounds like you’re about ready to punch somebody. I told you, I can do this. Go buy your Alpo or whatever it is you wolf shifters eat.”
Thattouched a nerve. “Whatdid you say to me?” He took a deep breath, a shocked look on his face, as though I’d slapped him.
I took advantage of the moment to start transferring the bags into the new cart. He placed the bag into my cart, still silent. I realized that my slur had hit him harder than if I’d punched him in the nose. I set the last bag in my cart and took a deep sigh.
“Listen,” I said. “I took things a step too far. I apologize for that last crack. I guess the old saying is true, put a witch and a wolf shifter together and all you’ll end up with is trouble. I’m truly sorry.”
Faron tilted his head, holding my gaze. His scowl softened and, after a moment, he spoke. “Apology accepted. I shouldn’t have called you ‘witch’ in that tone.” He paused, then added, “Listen…I know this is an abrupt change of topic, but by any chance would you have time to talk to me for a moment? I’m in need of an expert opinion on something that might be magical in nature.”
“And you want my advice?” I raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want to consult awitch?”
He sighed. “Again, I’m sorry. And trust me, given we’ve now butted heads twice, I’d rather askanybodyelse. But you might be able to help and I don’t know many other witches—not ones I trust. With your mouth, I figure you’ll tell me the truth, no matter what I want to hear.”
I snorted and finally smiled. “Well, I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment, and yes, I don’t giverah-rah-go-team-goadvice when the truth is anything but that.”
Glancing at the groceries, I tried to sort out my thoughts. I didn’t want to talk to Faron, and yet—if I were being honest, he intrigued me. But today wasn’t the day. I needed to get home because of the dragonette, and I had the meeting with Darla coming up.
“Not today, I’m sorry. But I can meet you tomorrow…or rather, if you come out to my place, we can talk.” I wasn’t sure how soon it would be before the dragonette would be able to stay by himself. I’d have to ask May when I arrived home.
After an uncertain pause, Faron finally said, “All right. Will noon work? I can get an hour or so off of work.”
I nodded. “Noon will work. Do you know where I live?”
“Out on the old Jansen land.” He paused, then hesitantly asked, “Are you going to be all right out there?”
It seemed like an odd question. “I haven’t had any trouble yet. Why?”
“No reason,” he said. “I thought I’d ask. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon.” He stood back so I could get through the door, then began talking to the bag boy who had arrived to see what the fuss about the carts was.
As I drove home, I wondered what Faron Collinsworth could want with my advice. And why had he asked if everything was okay on my land?
* * *
Bran had finished buildingthe beds for the herb garden by the time I arrived home. Surprised by how quickly he had worked, I walked over to examine them. They were far better than anything I could have built.
Each of the four beds rested three feet above the ground, making for easy upkeep. My back would be thanking him for as long as I used them. The wood was treated cedar, like I had originally planned, but the resemblance ceased at that point. The corner pieces were decorative as well as functional, the beds were filled with dirt up to two inches below the top, and it had been tamped down to make sure it wouldn’t sink too far when I watered it.
“I can put in that slate walkway for you tomorrow, if you’d like,” Bran said. He was standing there, bare chested, sweat glistening on his skin. He wasn’t ripped like a bodybuilder, but the man had muscle and a six-pack and I found my gaze lingering a little too long.
