Chapter 4

Tori Townsend

I end the call and toss my phone back onto the passenger seat. Breathing deeply, I then check my side mirrors and guide my car back onto the wet road. It's not often that someone calls to rent the little house in my backyard. Whoever this Killian is, his voice was deep, gravelly, and confident, and I could tell that he was outside because of the pattering of rain and the passing of tires on wet pavement.

He hadn't said where he was from nor why he was here, and I didn't ask. When my phone rang, I'd jumped out of my skin and nearly swerved off the road. I had been so lost in thought while driving, replaying the crunch of a body hitting my hood, that the new yet abrupt sound startled me back into the present. It may not be raining like it had been last night, but the drops on my windshield were enough to bring me back to the incident.

With my mind solely occupied, I hadn't thought to ask him the important questions. All I did was agree to meet with him this morning, but first, I'll have to go to my little Wiccan store.

Most people would have taken the day off after killing someone. Tegan had tried to get me to call it off last night, but I refused. I knew a normal schedule was exactly what would heal me, and lying at home, rethinking what I'd done, would only make it worse.

I rub at my eyes and glance at my tired face in the rearview mirror. I hadn't slept a wink last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw hers and the dark field of lilies she sought. I look as tired as I feel.

Tegan slept over last night. She stayed up with me for as long as she could before she fell asleep in the bed beside me. Cole had left us to it, having gone home as soon as I stopped crying on Tegan's shoulders. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he never did. Perhaps it was about how taking a life wasn't easy. Or maybe how it wasn't my fault. Either way, it doesn't matter. Nothing he would have said would have made this any better. Nothing would have made me look at it differently.

I killed someone . . . and her unborn child. There are no words to soothe or smooth for that.

I pull into Mount Pleasant's downtown and frown a little when I get to my store. A rusted car has pulled up in front of the store's door, the only car in the lot. Normally, I'm the first store owner downtown every morning. I'm the first to open and the last to close, but now here is this car… and it's sitting in front of my store…

As I park in the space next to it, it hits me when I see the face of the driver. It's the kid I hired last week, and I had completely forgotten that he starts today.

Josiah Cruise turns his head and smiles shyly at me. I give him a little wave and hope like hell it isn't obvious that I forgot I had hired him in the first place.

From the interview, I remember how tall he was. A good foot above me, but that isn't saying much because I'm short. He's practically squashed in his tiny, old car like a gorilla stuffed into a monkey cage. At seventeen, he still has quite the baby face, and he hasn't lost that pudgy belly and puffy cheeks that most growing teens would have lost by now, but maybe he's a late bloomer.

His dark hair is curled like corkscrews, and he keeps it closely cropped to his head so it doesn't grow wild and in all directions. A faint shadow of a mustache is trying to make itself known above his top lip, and a few freckles are dotted on the bridge of his short nose.

From the interview, I could tell he was a nice kid. Definitely a little sheltered, which made me question why he was trying to get a job at a Wiccan shop, but it's not like I had many applicants. Kent Hilton, Pierce's grandfather, had seen to that by poisoning the area's minds into believing that I'm selling the devil's spells.

Honestly, most of the stuff I sell has to do with mind, body, and spirit. Good luck charms at worst, but Pastor Kent doesn't give a shit. He saw a target, and he went after it. I honestly don't know how much longer I'll be able to stay open if business continues to go the way it has been.

But I need Josiah because, while my shop isn't doing so great, I'm still getting plenty of business as a realtor. Yes, I have to share some of my potential customers with Kent, but my reputation is more solid than his. I've been around longer – I know the market. Because that side of my income is what's feeding me, I need reliable people to keep an eye on the shop. Tegan can't do it all, and it wouldn't be fair of me to ask.

Even from inside my car, I hear the high-pitched squeal of Josiah's door being opened. He all but squeezes his way out of the car, and with a little sigh, I slide out of my own, purse and keys in hand. I'm in a horrible mood, and I can only hope that I don't spoil Josiah's first day. I really don't want him to think I'm that kind of boss, especially since he's a sweet kid.

"Josiah," I greet, adding a smile as we round the front of our cars to greet one another.

"Miss Townsend," he replies awkwardly. For a kid who has quite the baby face, he sure has a deep voice.

I could correct him and have him use my first name, but honestly, I like the respect of being formally addressed. I like the kid, but I don't want to be taken advantage of by youthful antics. Respect right off the bat is a good thing.

"Are you ready for your first day?" We head to the door, and I slide my key into the lock.

"Sure am."

"Good." I open the door for both of us to enter, and then I flick on the lights. My store illuminates in a soft glow that makes all the glass and glossy surfaces shine. The aroma of sage and lavender reaches my nose, and I inhale the familiar and comforting scent to chase away the lingering effects of my earlier thoughts.

Coming to work had definitely been the right move.

"I just have a few papers for you to sign before we begin," I say as I cross my store. "Give me a second to grab them."

He nods, and I disappear into the office. The office is exactly as I left it: a mess. Wrinkling my nose, I gently set my purse on the desk. It takes me a minute to find the papers, but after moving around yesterday's sandwich wrappers and chip bag, I snatch them up and head back out into the store.

Laying them on the check-out counter, I pluck up one of the pens from the cup by the register and pass it to him. He murmurs his thanks and takes the pen, and as he's filling out the paperwork, I stand there and fidget a little by pulling on my fingers. "So, uh, I never asked. What made you move to the area?"

From his application, I had seen that he moved here a month ago from the Eastern coast. Vermont or New Hampshire or somewhere up in the tip-top corner. I honestly don't remember, but I had been nosy and looked to see that the person who sold them the house was our very own resident pastor. I had been annoyed at the time because the property was just outside of the town's limits and large at that. It would have made for a good-sized commission check.

Flipping the page over, he shrugs and presses the pen back to the page. "We wanted to live in a smaller town in a more remote area. A long time ago, my great-grandparents lived in the area."

"I suppose you like being close to your family history."

He peeks at me for a split second and nods.

"So it's just you and your parents?"

With the papers filled out, he gently places the pen back into the cup and rights himself. "Just my father. My mother died when I was born."

"Ah," I say, trying not to cringe at how careless that question was. Not that I could have known, but . . . "Sorry to hear that."

He shrugs again.

"Any siblings I should plan on seeing?"

A small grin takes over his face. "I have four little brothers and sisters."

My eyebrows skyrocket into my forehead. I now have so many questions, chiefly how he could have so many younger siblings with no mother .

"Stepmother?"

He fidgets a little. "Yeah, I guess." A weird reaction, but he probably doesn't like his stepmother any better than most kids do. I didn't like my stepfather either. I could ask him; I could be nosy. Instead, I smooth out my face because it's none of my damn business.

"You must love little kids then." I clear my throat and pick up the papers. "Not many big brothers would admit to that."

"I help raise them," he says in the way of an explanation.

I pat his shoulder even though it's the height of my face. "You're a good kid, Josiah. I'm sure your parents appreciate it. Four little kids is a lot of work."

"Do you have any kids?" he asks.

I bark out a laugh. "No." And I never want any. Instead of saying that, I add, "I don't have the time to invest in a family."

His head bobs in small little nods, and he stuffs his hands into his jean pockets. "I dream of having a big family."

More power to you, kid. Definitely not my dream, and honestly, it shouldn't be the dream of someone who is still a kid himself, but again, I keep my mouth shut.

"So Pastor Kent sold you the property, hmm?"

"Yeah. He seems like a nice guy. Even helped us acquire chickens from another farmer. The rooster is annoying though."

I resist the urge to snort. The front door opens, and Tegan walks in. Her hair is in a messy bun, and her clothes are wrinkled, but she has a bag of donuts in her hand, so I can't fault her for her appearance. "Ah," I breathe, glad for a change of subject. "Josiah, this is Tegan. She's going to be training you until you get the hang of things. "

Josiah turns around and gives a small, saluting wave.

"Hi," Tegan says quickly to him. She hands me the bag of donuts and straightens out her shirt. The action does nothing for the wrinkles. I left my house before she did, so I imagine that she ran home and dressed as quickly as she could, and this is just the result. "I'm always late, aren't I?"

I scratch the back of my neck, deciding not to answer that. Instead, I take the donuts to the office and call over my shoulder, "Why don't you have a look around, Josiah? We'll be right back."

Close on my heels, Tegan follows me into the office and shuts the door behind us. She crowds me as I sit down at my desk and move my finger across the mouse pad to wake up my laptop. As soon as it lights up, it displays the two cameras' feeds.

Tegan squints over my shoulder. "When did you get cameras?"

"The other day," I say with a sigh.

"Why?"

I glance at her. "With Kent next door, I thought it was wise."

Her lips twist. "Makes sense. That's kind of a smart idea."

"I have a few of those sometimes. I even got a camera for my house."

She chuckles under her breath. "And you think I'm the paranoid one."

Loosely, I cross my arms over my chest. "Well, if you had someone hell-bent on destroying everything you've worked so hard for, you would have cameras too."

"True." Her mouth puckers in thought. "He'll get bored of you eventually."

"Pierce said the same thing to me once. God, I hope so. "

She studies me for a moment before grabbing a donut out of the bag and taking a generous bite. "How is the sheriff anyway?"

"He seemed fine last night."

"Is he still trying to get back in your pants?"

I roll my eyes. "We both were a little too busy last night to even think about that. Besides, the sex with Pierce was okay, but not memorable enough for a second round. Although . . . I do miss the handcuffs."

"Hussy."

"Look, I picked up a cucumber the other day, and my nipples got hard."

She shakes her head. "I think you're too kinky to be my best friend."

I lift an eyebrow. "Says the woman who likes to be choked while she's railed."

"You have a drawer full of toys. You don't need a vegetable." Around a mouthful, she smiles, swallows, and then her expression turns thoughtful. "How are you doing anyway?"

My shrug is small. I look down at the keyboard of my laptop, and my voice is small as I say, "I'm alright."

"No, you're not."

I wet my bottom lip and stretch out my tense neck. "I will be."

She is quiet for a few moments before she softly adds, "I'm here if you need me. You know that, right?"

I raise my gaze to give her a small smile that definitely doesn't reach my eyes. "I know."

She returns the expression before picking up the bag of donuts and passing it to me. "Nothing a little frosting can't fix."

Even though I don't feel it, I chuckle and take the offered bag. "I should really stop eating these. "

"Why?"

I scowl up at her and then wave a hand down my torso.

She looks heavenward and snorts. "You are not fat. There's just a little more of you to love."

My chuff is loud and completely unladylike. "I'll try to remember that."

"As you should."

I lift the donut to my lips, take a bite, and chew thoughtfully. "Are you going to be okay training him alone?"

She scowls. "Why? Do you have somewhere you have to be?"

I nod. "Some guy wants to rent the B&B. I have to meet up with him here in a bit."

She waves me off. "No problem. He seems like an easy-going kid anyway."

"Awesome," I say tiredly. I take another generous bite, stand up, and give her a kiss on the cheek full of crumbs, all of which she wipes away dramatically. Grabbing my purse off my desk, I give her a little wave as I head out. "Thanks," I add over my shoulder.

"Mhmm," I hear her hum.