"Absolutely," Gen said. "We'll work on her later. Do you still have the book?"
Did she? Gen scoured her bookshelf and pulled out the violet book: The Book of Spells. No author was listed. "Here."
Kate put up her hands. "I don't want to touch it. Last time I got a shock. Just keep it here and we'll see what happens with A."
"Deal."
"Can I join in on this deal?" She looked up. Wolfe held out a cup of coffee and a bag from Swan Pastry, and grinned. "Caffeine anyone?"
Gen flew into his arms, jumping up and holding tight. Their mouths fused together, and her heart swelled so big and full she felt like her chest would burst. Slowly, he slid her back down to the ground. "I missed you."
"Me, too."
He winked. "Hi, Kate."
Kate's grin was big and infectious. "Hi, Wolfe."
"Thanks for helping us out."
"No problem. I'm so happy for you guys." She stepped close and threw her arms around both of them for a quick hug. "You're the bes--holy shit!"
Kate jerked back, her mouth open in a shocked little O, and stumbled back, falling on her ass. She blinked up from the bedroom floor and glanced at her outstretched hands.
"Are you okay?" Gen jumped to help, but Wolfe had already scooped her back up. "What happened?"
"Don't come near me!"
Gen froze at her friend's command. Terror struck her, but then Kate burst into laughter so deep and joyous a frown came over her face. "If you don't tell me what's going on right now, I'm gonna freak."
Kate shook her head, still keeping her distance. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I just s-s-saw a s-spider."
"Where?" Wolfe looked frantically back and forth. Gen gazed at her friend suspiciously.
"Oh, it's gone, don't worry about it." Kate waved her hand in the air as if dismissing the whole episode. "I gotta go. I'll be r-r-right back." They watched her climb over the bed in order to avoid walking past them and then pause at the doorway. "I'm s-s-so happy!"
She disappeared.
"What was that about?" Wolfe asked. "Do you see any spiders?"
"No, babe. And if I do, I'll kill them for you. It'll be in our marriage vows." She stared thoughtfully at the empty doorway where Kate had disappeared. Hmm. When Kate touched a couple meant to be together, she usually received an electrical shock. Was it possible she'd experienced the touch with her and Wolfe? Gen shook off the idea and swore she'd ask later.
He tugged on her curls and grinned. "Smart-ass." He looked around the bedroom. "Tell me the truth. Are you going to miss this place?"
She smiled. "Of course. It's the place where we fell in love. But Arilyn will take good care of it, and we'll make a new home. Our home."
"Yeah, our home." A frown marred his brow. "Speaking of homes, did you DVR House Hunters?"
She rolled her eyes. "We missed last night because it was already set up to tape The Bachelor at the same time. We can catch it on a rerun."
"That's it. We're getting two DVRs in the new place. And two remotes."
"Fine."
"And no more of those creepy twins. Property cousins or something? They're weird."
"Property Brothers. And they're hot! They'd be able to fix up this bungalow and make it a knockout."
"They're creepy and I'd never hire them. Besides, I love the bungalow just the way it is." He gestured to the crumbled paper in her hand. "What's that? Another to-do list?"
She looked down at the evidence of her love spell. If only he knew. She chucked it into the garbage and swore not to get spooked. Love spells didn't work. Anyway, who cared how things happened? All she knew was the love of her life was all hers, and they were building a future together.
"The best kind of list. I love you."
"Love you, too, sweetheart."
He bent down and kissed her again, and everything was . . . beautiful.
acknowledgments
SO MANY PEOPLE to thank . . . so little space!
A big hug and thank-you to my fave editor, Lauren McKenna. You were right about delaying Wolfe's book. The wait was so worth it!
Thanks to my agent, Kevan Lyon, for all her hard work.
Thanks to my dad for reminding me to write what I know, and telling me to change the setting to Saratoga Racetrack, one of the best places on earth. Our annual gambling outing is one of my favorite memories, and I hope it continues for a long time. Love you.
Cyber hugs to all my writing friends and conference buddies. A special shout-out to my Belles on Wheels Gallery bus sisters: Christina Lauren, Kristen Proby, Kresley Cole, S. C. Stephens, Alice Clayton, Kyra Davis, Emma Chase, Katy Evans, and our wonderful publicists, Kristin and Jules. Simply put, I made friends for life and had a hell of a good time doing it!
For my Probst Posse--the most rocking street team of all. Thanks for brainstorming and sharing this journey. I adore all of you.
To my family who puts up with me and the endless deadlines--I promise to cook next week! Really!
Finally, to my readers. You are the reason I do this. Thank you for reading my books.
Keep reading for an exclusive sneak peek of the fourth sizzling installment in the Searching For series,
searching for always
Coming summer 2015
from Gallery and Pocket Books!
prologue
OFFICER STONE PETTY was having a shit day.
It started with some type of brownout that killed his alarm and made him late. He despised tardiness in all forms and enjoyed a morning routine that set him up for the day. Hot, black coffee. Toast with butter, and real bacon. None of that turkey junk. Reading the paper, a quick shower, and taking his damn time.
Instead, he raced to get cleaned up and dressed, forced to skip everything and stuck with the horror that was called coffee in the station. Not even officially on duty, he'd been forced to stop a teenager speeding, dealing with his general mouthiness and hormonal idiocy that hadn't taught him yet not to talk back to people in authority.
After a few hours on his beat, a foul smell in his squad car drove him crazy. He finally pulled over, trying not to gag, and discovered a pile of dog crap buried in a paper bag in the trunk. Sons of bitches. It must've been a boring night at the station, since one of his coworkers had decided to liven things up by pulling the literal tiger's tail. He loved his job, but sometimes he wanted to beat the hell out of them all. Boredom was the worst crime in the police station, and drove the guys to entertain themselves. On a slow fall night in Verily, guess he'd been the victim.
Plotting his revenge, he got rid of the poop, decided to skip lunch, and proceeded to roll over a busted glass bottle and pierce his tire.
Stone realized the fates were against him today. He was desperately trying to quit smoking, but the thought of the sweet smoke filling his lungs killed him. He dragged in a breath and tried to concentrate on the nicotine patch on his arm, working overtime. He didn't need it. He was strong. He could beat the nasty habit, even though he loved it so hard, he'd pick smoking over anything else.
Finally, the awful craving eased. Good. His best bet was to just clock in enough time to get the day done, lie low, and try again tomorrow. He changed the tire, tearing a small hole in the knee of his uniform, and sweating profusely. It was one of those weird Indian summer days in October, and he'd worn his long sleeves today. Sweat trickled down his b
row and under his arms, making him crave a shower. His temper frayed, but he held tight and swore to have patience. Anger got him in trouble every time. Like some kind of downhill roller coaster ride, it descended him into disaster. He was on a tight leash to begin with and needed to chill and ride out the rest of the day.
Calmly.
His partner had taken the morning off and should be hooking up with him within the hour. Devine always settled him with his easy humor. They worked well together, and long enough to call him his friend.
When he got back in the squad car, his speaker beeped.
"Car forty-three. Possible domestic abuse on Two Sycamore Street."
Stone reached for the radio. "Car forty-three en route."
"Backup is needed. Officer Devine on the way."
"Copy."
He eased onto the road and headed toward the house. Any type of domestic abuse required two officers on the scene, which he respected. Hell, it had always been his hot spot anyway, and they did very well with bad cop/good cop. With Devine's movie star looks, and his own rough appearance, everything balanced.
He drove past Main Street in Verily, enjoying the small-town charm and sprawling river views. A bit eclectic and weird for him, with the crazy artists, cafes, and mass of organic food, clothing, and wellness centers, but Verily called to him in some strange way. He always wondered what it would feel like to be one of those people. Centered. Calm. Happy.
He dealt with such intense emotions, and a dark brooding anger inside of him, that living in Verily was like stepping near the light.
Stone frowned at his sudden poetic thoughts and refocused. He'd reached Sycamore.
He pulled to the curb a few feet away and studied the scene. No nosy neighbors out, but it didn't mean people weren't watching from their windows. He checked his watch. Devine should arrive in a minute. Climbing out of the car, he strolled around the house, scanning for clues and straining his ears to catch any type of noise.
The white Victorian seemed a bit shambled. Peeling paint. Broken step. Sagging porch. The windows were dirty, but he noted a small vegetable garden on the side that was neat and weed-free. Someone had cared and maintained it well. A pink tricycle with streamers that had seen better days lay abandoned in the driveway. Was that crying? His muscles tensed.