Today was one of those days where nothing felt quite right, but nothing was wrong either.

Not yet, anyway. The shop had an unusual amount of foot traffic. Which was always great, especially since many of them were taking advantage of the sale on lingerie sets that had started this morning. But I wasn’t foolish enough to believe bras and panties were the cause of my increased revenue.

There was only one thing that would get Belle Musique this amped up.

Sweet, salacious juicy gossip. Even the thought of it made me groan, though I kept it to myself because I was a professional.

“Thanks for stopping by Trish. Don’t forget to sign up for the newsletter for a discount on your next purchase.”

Trish Danvers smiled at me. “As much money as I spend in here and you spend at my coffee shop, I’m not really sure a discount helps.” Her laugh was as bubbly and cute as she was, if a laugh could be petite and blond with big blue eyes.

“True, but every little bit helps. I reload my punch card faithfully. Every two weeks.” A fact that should have embarrassed me, but didn’t.

“See you around, Maddie. Give me a heads up when you have more of those fabulous dresses!”

“Will do, Trish. Have a good day.”

“You too,” she said, turning with a wave just before the exit. “Oh and congratulations!” With a wink, she stepped out into the late morning sunshine.

With a few minutes of peace, I restocked the French knickers and thongs, today’s bestsellers. I’d just finished when Mrs. LaFontaine shuffled in with her best friend and partner in crime, Betty Crinkle.

“Good morning ladies and welcome to High St. Fashions. Can I help you find anything today?”

“I want something sexy, but nothing that says I’m easy,” Mrs. LaFontaine announced with a conspiratorial wink. “You know exactly what I mean, I’m sure.”

I froze, unsure if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult. “I’m afraid I don’t, but I do have some pieces that are beautiful but modest, right this way.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter much what she wears with curves like that,” Betty said in a tone that was half-compliment and half-envy. “Enjoy it while you can sweetheart, age and gravity comes for us all eventually.”

I turned to Betty who, at eighty-five, didn’t look a day over sixty with silky silver curls and bright green eyes that were always lined and coated with mascara. Next to Aunt Mae she was probably the most stylish senior in town.

“We should all be so lucky to look as beautiful as you Betty,” I assured her and stopped in front of one of the lingerie displays. “Let me know if you have any questions,” I told them and went to refold a stack of jeans. I preferred to give customers time to shop and decide on their own, rather than hawk them throughout the store.

But the strange comments continued throughout the afternoon, mostly from the older women in town, but a few high school kids had come in along with most of my regulars, and they’d all made cryptic comments. They flashed knowing smiles like we shared some inside joke, except I felt more like the butt of the joke by the time noon rolled around.

Then Shayla walked in wearing painted on black jeans and an almost sheer tank top with her giant tits on full display. Her body was amazing, but her trashy clothes took away from her killer physique. And that was the last charitable thought I had about the woman for the rest of the day.

“How’d you do it?” Her tone was accusing, but I didn’t owe this witch any answers and I wouldn’t be bullied in my own shop.

Arms crossed with the counter between us, I glared right back. “Do what, Shayla?”

“How did you get Zeke to marry you?” Her voice held a little too much disbelief for my liking, and even though I had no idea what she was talking about, I refused to give in.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Shayla had no shortage of men and my guess was that Zeke only looked more appealing when he was giving someone else his attention.

“He was mine first, dammit!”

Silly girl, didn’t she know? Zeke belonged to no one. “That’s something you should probably take up with him, not me. And not at my place of business.”

Shayla’s face transformed from made up viper to what she really was, a vulnerable divorcee who’s confidence had taken a hit when her husband ran off with his intern. To Hawaii. “I did but he said he was done with me. Because of you.” I was barely able to conceal the eyeroll at her little girl pout. Did men actually find that attractive, or were they so turned on by her body that the rest didn’t matter?

Was that what Zeke wanted?

“What makes you so special?”

Okay, now she was starting to piss me off. “Maybe for starters, because I’m not a raging jealous bitch who goes around insulting other people. You know, Shayla, I kept my mouth shut when you went after Zeke knowing we were seeing each other, but now you’re in my shop still talking smack. How about you get the hell out of here before I deflate those tits you bought after your divorce?” The whole stop fell silent, and I realized that everyone was staring and I hated that.

I had my fill of being the topic of town gossip, enough to last a lifetime, so I turned on my best customer service smile and faced Shayla again. “Did you want to take advantage of our buy one set and get another thirty percent off sale?”

“Not on your life!” She turned on really amazing black stilettos with diamond ankle straps and stomped out of the store harder than she needed to, and harder than those great shoes deserved.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep quiet. There was a string of curse words I wanted to let loose, but there were still about a dozen customers in the shop. Which meant, no matter what Shayla said about me and Zeke being married, I had to focus on my customers first.

Then I would figure out how in the hell my life had turned into a comedic farce. It took about forty minutes before the shop finally emptied, and as soon as the last customer, a tourist visiting the local B&B, was gone I rushed back to my office and returned to the front with my laptop in hand. I minimized the inventory software and pulled up the hub of gossip in town, the Belle Musique Facebook page.

And there it was for the entire world to see.

Congratulations to hometown girl and High St. Fashions proprietress, Maddie Trenton on her nuptials to Zeke Riley, owner of constantly packed, Zeke’s Joint!!! Be sure to offer up congratulations, discounts, prayers and gifts for the happy couple.

I stared at the screen in shock for what felt like an eternity as keywords like ‘nuptials’ and ‘happy couple’ kept bouncing around in my mind like a bad joke. Or worse, a bad song that every radio DJ in America played until you were singing along to it even though you hated it. That’s how I felt staring at the long headline.

Married. Why on earth would the entire town think that Zeke and I were married? And who in the hell would put it out for public consumption without talking to either of us first?

I sucked in a breath, and a thought occurred to me, but I immediately kicked it to the side. Zeke wanted to be married less than any man I’d ever met in my entire life. Hell he could barely commit to trying to date me seriously. But there was someone else with an agenda, and I locked up the cash register, grabbed my purse and locked the doors behind me. I decided to hit the diner first since that’s where the many of the old timers hung out before the dinner rush.

I pushed the door open and scanned the burgundy booths until I spotted the reddish crop of curls being held back by a zebra print headband.

“There you are!” It didn’t matter if I yelled or not, since all eyes were on me. “You,” I said in accusation, pointing a finger at Aunt Mae. “You did this!”

Mae looked up at me with a far too innocent look on her face. “You’ll have to clarify, dear. I lead a full life, and do many things every day.”

I wanted to growl, but I was raised to respect my elders, so I refrained from shaking some sense into the meddling old woman who’d been as much a mother to me as she’d been to Vivi. The only difference being that my parents simply were uninterested in parenting.

“The Facebook page, Mae.” I kept my voice low and slipped into the booth seat across from her, leaning in to keep the whole town out of my business. Though, at this point, that was a lost cause. “Twitter, Instagram and Facebook, Mae. Each and every one of them talking about me being married. To Zeke! Which is impossible, since there is no blinged-out engagement ring on my finger, much less a wedding band! Impossible, unless you married us.”

I waited, giving her a chance to deny it.

She didn’t. Instead, Mae smiled. “I wish I could say that this was my doing, because I think you’re acting like a scared little girl where that man is concerned, but it wasn’t. My spell did what it was meant to do, but that had nothing to do with the mess you and Zeke have gotten into.” She crossed her arms defensively like she was the injured party, and I had to fight from growling again

“Good afternoon, ladies. Am I late or early?” Judge Walker stood beside the table, handsome for an older man with bush gray hair and thick black brows that gave him a distinguished air. Or maybe it was his kind smile.

“You’re just on time, Henry. Maddie, you’ve made your accusations, but my lunch date has arrived and we’d like some privacy.”

Privacy? “You have to be kidding me! It is inconceivable that this wasn’t your doing considering you did the same thing last year.”

Mae, with more fire than I’d seen since she caught me and Vivi sneaking out to catch a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, smacked the table.

“It was a simple protection spell, Maddie. Nothing more. Whatever has happened with you and Zeke has nothing to do with me.”

Judge Walker let out an agonized sigh as we switched places. “Mae I’ve told you about working from those old spell books. We had this conversation about the details. When it comes to these spells, the details matter.” His words made sense but still, my stomach dropped to my knees. “The scarf changes the spell to a binding ritual and here in Louisiana, it’s as sacred as a marriage certificate and ceremony.”

“No.” That couldn’t be true. If it was, it meant someone had to have completed the paperwork. “You knew,” I pointed to the judge.

He nodded, not a trace of guilt found on his face. “I thought it was a simple mistake, and shook it off to another of Mae’s delightful eccentricities. Then I happened to be taking Boomer for a walk and I saw you and Zeke neckin’ like teenagers last week and figured maybe I was the one who’d gotten it wrong. As soon as I got back to the office, I corrected my mistake.”

“Why?” The question came out barely above a whisper.

“Because sometimes people get married for, ah, time sensitive issues.” At least the Judge had the grace to flush at his comments.

Me on the other hand, I felt mortified. Looking down at my stomach which wasn’t quite flat but still had no visible rolls or love handles, I turned pale.

“Is that what everyone thinks? Oh. My. God.” I couldn’t stand in this stupid diner for another moment, not while everyone stared at the woman who’d had—no, needed—a shotgun wedding. Because I was someone’s wife now, apparently.

Zeke’s wife. Officially.

“It should have already arrived in the mail,” Judge Walker added nervously.

I nodded at his words, but shook them off as I pointed at both of them and glared. “Stop meddling.”

“Young people these days are so ungrateful,” I heard Mae mutter after I’d already turned and made my way to the door.