Chapter One
“I do not need a cowboy.”
The sincere announcement earned Angel Lancaster a few curious looks from the few afternoon patrons of the Come Again and one severe frown from a burly looking gentleman in a lumberjack shirt nursing his beer at the far end of the bar.
“Country boy,” her friend clarified with a laugh. Scottie set a glass of wine in front of Angel. “And every woman needs a country boy, at least once in her life.”
The word country was the only part of that sentence that held any interest for Angel and was the sole reason she’d let Scottie talk her into visiting Sapphire Falls in the first place. The small Nebraskan town wasn’t the most ideal place to figure out her next move, but it was the last place her family—her father in particular—would expect her to go.
Not only did Sapphire Falls give her a chance to catch up with Scottie after not seeing each other for nearly three years, it also gave Angel the opportunity to spend some time with her grandmother. Closing in on eighty-five, her grandmother still insisted on living on her own in a slightly rundown cottage at the edge of the farming property she’d sold when Angel’s grandfather passed away years ago.
Angel picked up her glass. “What this woman needs is to stay far away from anything with a penis, and that includes any and all country boys.”
This time, the guy at the bar choked on his beer, his cough briefly drowning out the music Angel had been tapping her foot to since she sat down.
She held up her glass, assessing the crimson liquid. “I thought you were going to give me a real drink?”
Scottie laughed, wiping at something on the counter as if she did it all the time and wasn’t just filling in as a favor. “You love wine. And I’d rather not have to tuck you into bed with aspirin and a gallon of water before my shift is even over.”
“Borcher’s is not that strong.”
“That’s because you can barely remember what happened the last time you had some.”
The real problem was that she remembered too much. “I remember the hangover very clearly.” And the fallout that destroyed her father’s trust in her. And he was going to lose his mind when he heard she’d ditched her cultural responsibilities for a trip to the one place he’d made her promise never to go back to.
Angel took a long drink of her wine, reminding herself that she was an adult and perfectly capable of making good choices. Her phone chimed and a text from her brother popped up on the screen.
Where are you?
So her mother hadn’t told anyone. Yet.
She’d thought Angel’s trip to Sapphire Falls was a great idea, despite Angel’s initial reservations. Her mother wouldn’t be able to keep the destination of her impromptu trip to herself forever, though, especially when her father learned Angel had dropped off the grid.
She tucked the phone into her purse and took an even bigger drink.
“That bad?” Scottie tucked her long, red-gold hair back in a ponytail and paused long enough to pour another beer for a customer.
Angel shook her head. “Worse.”
“Worse than the time you threw up in Michael’s lap when he proposed?”
“It wasn’t a real proposal,” Angel pointed out, trying not to cringe at the memory.
“Or the time you found a ring in Steven’s sock drawer and bolted so fast you crashed into a police car.”
“I was trying not to hit a cat,” she pointed out.
Scottie cocked her head. “And how did that turn out?”
“The cat lived.” And she’d paid for all the stray’s vet bills before adopting the one-eyed cat that didn’t like anyone except her.
Scottie’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Lewis didn’t…did he?”
“Propose? No.” She hadn’t let their relationship get that far. Her heart wasn’t in it, hadn’t really been in it with any of them.
She could have a good time and enjoy their company, but none of them compared to the fantasy guy she’d built up in her mind.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not crazy.”
Scottie opened her mouth to respond, cut off by the sound of a door slamming into the wall. They turned in enough time to catch the blur that darted past half a dozen people before hopping the bar and dropping out of sight.
The move sent two glasses and the carved pumpkin on the corner of the bar toppling off the counter where they smashed at Angel’s feet.
What the hell?
She leaned to the side and glimpsed the man crouched next to one of the beer fridges.
He stared up at Scottie, finger pressed to his lips. “You owe me.”
Scottie scoffed. “Oh no. You’re on your own, Cade.” She came out from behind the bar, pausing next to Angel. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She disappeared through a door marked Employee’s Only.
Curious about the exchange, Angel slid off her stool to collect the chunks of busted pumpkin. She couldn’t remember Scottie mentioning dating anyone named Cade, but the pair clearly had a history of some kind.
Conscious of being watched, she lifted her head to find Scottie’s friend staring at her.
She hadn’t burst into the bar or dove behind a counter, but she might as well have. His piercing gaze followed every move she made as if there wasn’t anything as interesting as her in the room.
She glanced away to focus on cleaning the mess only to sneak another look at him a few seconds later.
He didn’t seem to notice that he was staring at her, his lips curving in a slow smile. A curl of dark hair fell across his forehead, his eyes a deep forest green that studied her so intently a thousand molten butterflies spread their wings at once inside her.
She lifted her hand to her stomach, a flicker of something familiar…
The door banged open again, and he put his finger back to his lips, silently pleading with her not to give him away.
Who was this guy?
Angel stood as a stunning brunette swept inside, her knee-length white dress hugging every curve perfectly despite the fact she must have been freezing in the strapless dress when it wasn’t even 60 degrees outside.
Setting the chunks of pumpkin she’d collected on the counter, Angel felt the unyielding weight of the man’s gaze linger on her. She resisted the urge to look down at him, trying to focus on the woman across the room.
Heads swiveled to follow the furious click of her heels on the wood floor.
“Has anyone seen Cade?”
Everyone buried their faces in their drinks, a few people shaking their heads and doing a horrible job of pretending they weren’t waiting for the woman to discover him behind the bar. Angel spotted Scottie freeze in the doorway, a broom and dustpan clutched in one hand. She retreated soundlessly, shooting Angel an apologetic look.
Apparently Cade wasn’t the only one on his own.
“Cade?” Angel found herself inquiring. Someone had to say something.
The woman gave up scanning the interior of the Come Again to study Angel. No doubt her bright blue sundress splashed with globs of orange and pink-tipped blonde hair seemed a little out of place.
“What does he look like?” Angel asked when the woman in white edged a little too close to the end of the bar where she might glimpse Cade.
“About six-two, brown hair, eyes like the snake that he is.”
Someone coughed, and the country music seemed almost too loud now that conversation had ceased in the room.
“Not a fan of his,” Angel guessed.
The woman crossed her arms, revealing the perfect amount of cleavage, and judging by the practiced move, she probably knew it.
“He’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt he probably slept in.”
From the corner of her eyes, Angel saw the man in question sniff his shirt and shake his head in disagreement.
Angel pressed her lips together, fighting a smile and tried to stay focused on the brunette.
“What did he do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Cade inched closer, and his fingers curled around her ankle. Heat surged beneath her skin at the point of contact even though the touch was nothing more than a plea for her to shut the hell up.
“Anything the police are aware of?” Angel pressed, wondering if she should be enjoying herself this much, and it didn’t have anything to do with the green eyes that never left her. “Wanted felon or anything?”
He gently squeezed her ankle and the flash of heat swept all the way to her toes.
Suspecting Angel was up to something, the woman narrowed her eyes. “If he turns up, tell him Shelby is looking for him.” She directed the comment to everyone in the bar.
Surprisingly no one had fallen out of their seats while straining to eavesdrop on their exchange.
Shelby glanced at the counter, taking another step closer, and Angel tensed.
“Why do I get the impression I’m missing out on seeing my brother get his ass kicked by a girl?” a deep voice echoed from the doorway.
Shelby glanced at the newcomer, and giving up on finding Cade inside the Come Again, she stalked toward the door, the echo of her heels even louder on her way out.
“Excuse me.” She waited for the guy to step aside and let her pass.
The man moved out of her path with a sweep of his arm that directed her to the door. “If you need any help, let me know. I can hold him down for you,” he quipped.
With a tight smile, Shelby walked out. The guy laughed then strolled over to join two men at another table. “Coast is clear,” he called out a few moments later.
* * *
Cade let out the breath he’d been holding, one that had nothing to do with narrowly escaping Shelby’s wrath.
“You can probably let go now.” The request that could have been described as breathless finally penetrated his brain.
It took him a moment to realize his fingers were still curled around the blonde’s ankle, and another few to stop staring at her long enough to loosen his fingers and release her. “Sorry,” he murmured, registering Shelby’s fading footsteps on the porch out front.
The blonde let out a low whistle. “Break her heart or just her mirror?”
Cade waited another beat, making sure Shelby continued her search elsewhere before rising. Scottie was going to kill him for destroying the Jack-O-Lantern she’d only finished carving that morning.
The blonde watched him from big blue eyes, waiting. He managed a shrug though nothing about the gesture felt casual. Nothing about standing opposite her felt causal, his pulse unsure whether to slow down or speed up.
He found his voice, conscious of every set of eyes in the room fixed on them. “Some women have a hard time when they realize a guy won’t change no matter how painfully honest he is about that right up front.”
She turned toward him, and that same fire-to-the-gut sensation made him take a step closer. He’d lived his whole life in Sapphire Falls and he knew he’d never met the woman in front of him. Right?
He would have remembered those eyes and the splash of freckles across the bridge of her nose. And her smile, the shy curve of her lips promising he was only glimpsing a hint of the warmth inside her.
“And what were you painfully honest about?” When the blonde stooped to pick up the remains of the shattered glasses, he crouched to stop her.
“I got it.” He reached for the pieces in her hand, the softness of her skin a sweet contrast to the roughness of his own.
She gave up the broken glass a little too quickly, wincing as blood welled along a small slice on the side of her hand.
“Here.” He didn’t give her the chance to object, drawing her hand—and the woman along with it—closer to him. The scent of apples and cinnamon filled his head.
“It’s not a big deal.” She tried to tug her hand free, watching him with the same intense curiosity that pulled at him.
“Cade?”
Cade mentally cursed his brother Ethan, even if his timing moments ago couldn’t have been better.
He pushed to his feet, nodded to his brother without relinquishing his hold on the blonde’s hand, and fumbled for the napkins stacked in a neat pile on the edge of the bar.
“It was my fault.” He pressed the napkin to the cut.
“And far more minor than whatever you did to her I’m guessing.” This time she managed to work her hand free but held the wadded napkin in place.
“Depends on your point of view I suppose.” He kept his voice low, knowing there wasn’t a soul in the place above eavesdropping.
His hoping the bar was hardly the most exciting thing to happen in the Come Again, but there was no shortage of gossip in their small town, and he’d already spent enough time at the center of it.
“Shelby knows I’m not interested in anything serious.” He’d explained it that way at least a hundred times to more than a few women, but this time he found himself almost forcing it out.
The blonde returned to her seat. “Proverbial playboy?”
Cade dumped the chunks of glass and pumpkin in the garbage can behind the bar. “No. My mother taught me never to string a woman along when I know she’s not the one for me.”
The woman brushed her hair over one shoulder, and his gaze caught on the deep pink ends that looked like they’d been dipped in paint. “I didn’t realize playboys were looking for the one?” She picked up her wine glass when he leaned on the bar.
“Doesn’t everyone want to find someone that drives them absolutely wild?” He held her gaze until she glanced away, loving the flush of color that brightened her cheeks.
“And you think one night with a woman is all it takes to figure out if you should get serious?”
Deciding it would be a bad idea to invade her personal space any more than he already had, he turned and snagged a beer from the fridge. He took a sip before sliding onto the stool next to her, willing to risk being late if it meant he got to talk to her for another few minutes. “You don’t believe in love at first sight?”
She laughed, the sound loosening tension in his shoulders he hadn’t realized was even there. “You sure you’re not talking about lust at first sight?”
He shook his head. “Lust is easy. You look at someone and want to get naked, end of story. But love at first sight… People have been writing about it for thousands of years. I just figure there must be something to it.”
He’d half believed it before today, but looking in the large blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when she burst out laughing, he was nearly convinced. He smiled in return easily, wondering how much longer he could linger when he had deliveries to make.
“I’m Cade by the way.” He offered his hand and wasn’t disappointed when she slid her palm against his in a slow shake that definitely sped his heart up.
“Angel.”
He caught his attention drifting to her smile and jerked his gaze away, taking a long drink of beer that iced his throat. “So…” He gestured to the glass of wine. “Celebrating or lamenting?”
“Maybe I just like wine.”
“Maybe,” he conceded, “but everyone in here is drinking for a reason, whether it’s because the work day is over, they’re blowing off steam, or avoiding a significant other,” he trailed off, “man or woman.”
“Is that your way of fishing to see if I’m into girls?”
She’d hardly be the first in Sapphire Falls if she was. “Hey, to each their own.”
Bill angled his head, and Cade rose and crossed to where the regular sipped on his daily beer. The old guy spoke low, and Cade’s grin widened. “Not interested in anything with a penis, huh?”
A deeper flush of color darkened Angel’s cheeks. “Not too disappointed I hope.”
He left Bill to his beer. “Encouraged actually.”
She frowned like she was trying to piece something together. “You’re clearly not a bartender.”
“How do you know?”
“They’re usually the ones answering questions from customers they haven’t cut off yet, not asking them.” She cocked her head, her teeth catching her bottom lip as she mulled it over. “Maybe a cop?”
“Or just a plain old country boy,” Scottie interjected. She held out the broom to Cade. “I know how you like to clean up your own messes,” she finished a little more sharply than expected.
He followed her hostile gaze that drifted toward the corner where Ethan sat with his back to the room.
That again, huh?
Smart enough not to comment on his brother’s return to Sapphire Falls, Cade took the broom and swept up the remaining splinters of glass. Scottie said something to Angel he didn’t catch while he finished cleaning the floor.
He tugged some bills from his wallet to cover the beer and broken glasses and handed them to Scottie. She stuffed them in one of the pockets on her apron and turned to deal with a customer.
Angel ran her finger around the lip of her wine glass, her expression thoughtful. Maybe even a little sad.
He stepped from behind the bar, pausing next to Angel and giving himself another moment to become intoxicated by the apple scent already branded on his memory. “I hope I can convince you that not all country boys are the same since you seemed to have your mind made up about us.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she fiddled with the necklace she wore. Her fingernails were painted different shades, her thumb a bright pink where it rubbed the unusual green stone she wore around her neck.
“Outside. Now.” Scottie nudged him toward the door, carefully avoiding the side of the room where Ethan sat.
Cade blew out a breath to settle his insides that were way too fired up. Casting a long look over his shoulder on the way out didn’t help.
“Don’t even think about it,” Scottie warned in a hushed tone. “She’s off limits.”
He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was peering over her head, wondering if Angel followed their progress the way Ethan did.
She was staring right at him and quickly looked away. He grinned.
Scottie poked him in the chest.
“Hmmm?” Damned if he couldn’t stop smiling.
“What is wrong with you?” She shook her head. “Never mind. You owe me a carved Jack-O-Lantern. A Darth Vader one, by the way.” She turned away.
That knocked him out of his stupor. “Wait, what?”
“I spent three hours on that thing. You can find a template online.” Smiling, she spun around and walked back into the Come Again. “Oh, and Shelby is right behind you.”
Shit.
He turned and found the parking lot empty, but Scottie had already disappeared inside before he could respond to the stunt. Not that he hadn’t deserved it. He grinned as he walked toward the truck loaded with pumpkins, wondering what Angel liked for breakfast.
* * *
“Hungry?”
Angel jerked upright, knocking a paintbrush to the floor. Thankfully the blue paint had dried and didn’t splatter on the cream-colored ceramic tile floor.
Bending to pick it up, she looked at the crooked clock her brother had built in shop class when they were kids, and groaned. “It’s barely after seven.”
“If you wanted to sleep in, you should have slept in your bed instead of at the kitchen table.” Delilah Cornerstone wiped her hands on the apron she’d pulled on over a flannel nightgown that looked almost as old as the eighty-five-year-old woman herself.
“I had an idea.”
“I can see that.” Her grandmother surveyed the wall where Angel had removed the decorative plates she and her sister had adorned with their handprints as children.
“I hope you don’t mind. I can repaint the wall—”
“Nonsense. The room could use brightening up.” She smoothed away the hair still stuck to Angel’s cheek. “What’s it going to be?”
Although half asleep, Angel smiled at the wall that would do anything but brighten the room since she’d covered it in blue-black and streaks of silver. “I don’t know yet.”
And for the first time in months it felt okay to say that, to not know the exact direction she was headed with the mural, to not pressure herself to paint something meaningful to the art community.
She’d given up on falling asleep somewhere around two in the morning, unexpectedly preoccupied with a pair of green eyes. So she’d dragged paint supplies from her rental car with no real plan in mind but moved to create.
Men were at the absolute bottom of her priority list, yet she’d still found herself asking about Cade when he’d left the Come Again, her gaze constantly drifting back to the door, half hoping he’d return.
Scottie had been unusually quiet despite her earlier support of country boys, changing the topic to the Fall Festival and the fun they’d have this weekend with the various Halloween-based events.
“I like it,” her grandmother said, patting her hand before moving over to the stove.
Smiling, Angel rose and gathered up some of the supplies she’d left out when she’d fallen asleep at the table. It wasn’t the strangest place she’d crashed after a late-night painting session.
She picked at a few drops of dried paint that missed the drop cloth she’d laid out to protect the floor, content to listen to her grandmother hum in the background while she set about making breakfast for the two of them.
She’d missed the sounds and smells of her grandmother’s kitchen, her memories overshadowed for years by her father’s disapproval and decision to cut their last visit short. He hadn’t even given Angel time to wash off the dried mud that covered her head to foot before he’d ordered them all into the car.
“I’m surprised your father didn’t pitch a fit about your visit,” her grandmother mused, seemingly reading Angel’s mind.
Magic didn’t run on her mother’s side of the family, but that never stopped her grandmother from finding out everything she wanted to know.
With her paint supplies set aside, Angel busied herself with setting the table, her silence no doubt telling.
Her grandmother nodded. “Can’t say I blame you. Sometimes it’s best to leave the cranky bear in its cage.”
“That’s a bit insulting to bears, isn’t it?”
The pan sizzled as bacon started to heat. Her grandmother shrugged. “Your mother married him.”
“What did you and Gramps think of him when my parents met?”
It wasn’t the first time Angel had wondered what her mother’s family must have thought of Thomas Lancaster when they learned who and what he really was. Or maybe after the whole fiasco at her sister’s wedding, Angel was struggling to remember she still loved her father, even when he was unbearably overprotective.
“Truthfully? That he was perfect for our daughter.” Delilah set her fork down. “Growls and all.”
“He’ll be furious when hears where I am.” Angel hadn’t ruled out the possibility that he would come himself when he found out.
“Is he really the man you’re most concerned with showing up?”
Angel crossed her arms. “Which one of them told you?” She mulled it over for a second, before taking a stab at the answer herself. “Bree?”
Her brother was still too mad at her to discuss the subject and her mother was too preoccupied with keeping her father calm, leaving only her sister.
“She might have mentioned it after I finished grilling her about Finn. I have a feeling your father doesn’t think the Calder boy is good enough for his little girl.”
“That’s an understatement.” It didn’t help that their oldest brother, Bryce, had also fallen in love with a Calder. Only time would tell if the unions would improve the strained relationship between the Lancasters and Calders or make it a thousand times worse.
Gran smiled, then shook her head. “And we were talking about you, not Sabrina.”
“It’s fine.”
“A boyfriend stalking you is not okay.”
“He’s not stalking me.” He’d just followed her a few times and spray painted Witch across the windshield of her car.
No matter how much she insisted otherwise, her father wasn’t convinced that Lewis was clueless about their family’s secrets and really had just written a sloppy sideways “B” because he’d been drunk at the time.
Not once in the five months they’d dated had she ever shared the truth about her family. Not with him or anyone else she’d ever been involved with.
Her grandmother shivered, and Angel crossed to light the wood stove. Her grandmother had everything ready to go, though someone had to be helping her cart the wood inside now and then judging by the massive stack in the corner of the room.
“Lighter?”
One silver brow arched. “Every time I go east to visit your mother, do you know how much magic I get to witness? None,” she finished, without even waiting for Angel to comment. “Your father can be a real stick in the mud about that stuff. What’s the point of having a witch for a granddaughter if I don’t get to see something amazing once in a while?”
“Gran,” Angel began.
“Hush. Now light the fire the way you were born to and forget about your father. He’s not here.”
“The last time—”
“You were a child.”
“I was sixteen,” Angel corrected. And definitely old enough to know the repercussions of using magic when she wasn’t behind the safety of her own walls.
“How does anyone learn if they don’t make mistakes? Lord knows your father has made more than his share,” she mumbled the last bit under her breath so quietly Angel wasn’t sure if she was supposed to have heard it. “Go on then.” Her grandmother gestured toward the stove.
Smiling despite herself, she turned back to the paper and kindling piled in the small space. “Incendia exuro.”
Her amulet warmed her skin, and a spark of flames ignited the kindling in the stove.
Her grandmother winked at her. “You might want to clean up a bit before you eat,” her grandmother suggested, swatting at the paint-speckled hand Angel stuck in the cookie jar.
Angel made off with the cookie anyway, happily munching on the oatmeal raisin treat that all but dissolved sweetly on her tongue. Probably headed straight for her thighs, but worth every bite.
The same white and blue wallpaper lined the walls of her grandmother’s bathroom, complete with the half a dozen shelves filled with knickknacks and little soaps carved in the shape of animals.
Angel turned the water on and started with her hands, scrubbing at the paint stubbornly sticking to the underside of her nails.
Movement in her peripheral vision snagged Angel’s attention and she glanced out the window in enough time to catch a glimpse of a man walking by the window.
Her heart pushed into a gallop. Lewis?
No. He wouldn’t have followed her when she’d been clear that he needed to stay away from her. And since no one except her mother even knew where she was, he couldn’t have found out. Could he?
Telling herself she had to be overreacting, she shut off the water and moved through the small cottage, opening the front door and stepping out onto the porch.
Nothing but the sound of birds greeted her. The glassy surface of the lake glimmered through the trees in the distance. Maybe she was imagining things. Lack of sleep and all that.
Drawing her sweater closer to ward off the early morning chill, she turned to go back inside.
“Morning!”
Angel froze.