January has a way of turning Honey Hollow into a virtual winter wonderland. Snow has lovingly blanketed every inlet and outlet, causing the transportation department to work overtime as it struggles to clear the roads. But the sugar-coated evergreens, the cheery frosted rooftops, holiday wreaths still gracing each door—minus the holiday stress, January is winter’s gentle sigh, and we all seem to take in a breather right along with it. Storm clouds are hovering high above Honey Hollow, dark and ominous, pregnant with impending doom, and it makes me wonder just what new horror might be lurking around the next corner.

The Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery is bustling this late afternoon. On top of the regular goodies I needed to fill the shelves, I’ve been experimenting with birthday cake cookies for Nell’s upcoming big bash. I will admit, the sight of the cheery looking cookies makes my stomach sour. Poor Eve will never get another birthday again. But—Nell will, and I have to make sure her next one is the best yet. The cookies themselves are essentially vanilla sugar cookies with confetti sprinkles baked into the mix so each bite is speckled with festive color. Nell loves rum, so I’ve added just a splash to take it to that next level. Nell is going to be ninety-three, and what a life she’s led. She’s certainly entitled to all the rum she can handle.

I still haven’t spoken with her about our shared ability, partly because I ended up staying at the B&B far longer than I expected yesterday. I’m hoping to carve out some time tomorrow if I’m lucky. As it stands today, she’s already eating dinner and getting ready for bed. Nell has always been a firm believer of early to bed early to rise, and life in her nineties is no different. But I can’t let this matter slip away any longer, not with that ferocious phantasm running around, capable of making this entire town seem haunted. Technically, I guess it is, but not in the way ordinary people think. I’d call Nell on the phone, but I want to look into her sweet blue eyes while she gives me the skinny. I can’t shake this feeling that she’s hiding more than she let on.

One of the customers catches my eyes. It’s a woman in a red coat, hood pulled over her head, scarf to her nose, and she has been studying the bakery goods for more than fifteen minutes. Every now and again I catch her sneaking a glance my way. I get the feeling she’s just as interested in me as she is my cookies. This is exactly what I’ve been afraid of. Finding body after body has turned me into some sort of morbid novelty. Ten bucks says she turns out to be a reporter for some ridiculous paranormal e-zine. If she only knew the truth about my paranormal connections, she might actually run all the way back to wherever she came from. I’m sure if everyone knew about me, the real me, they would want to keep their distance, too.

Noah comes to mind and my heart breaks. He knows that Everett is privy to some big, dark secret in my life and he assured me he was fine with not being privy to it himself, but I just can’t believe that. Of course, he wants to know. I’ve already shown Noah far more of me than I ever showed Bear or Curt, aka the New York Disaster. What’s a little more exposure?

I shake the idea out of my head. If and when Noah does find out, he’ll probably politely bow out of our relationship and hightail it to someone less psychotic like Ivy Fairbanks. I don’t see why not. They’re already together all the time. When my alarm went off at three thirty this morning, his truck was still missing from the driveway across the street where he happens to reside. It’s a disheartening feeling knowing your boyfriend is forced to spend an unfair amount of time with a redhead who happens to have unfairly perfect features. It sure doesn’t help that Ivy has a serious disdain for yours truly. The feeling is mutual, but still.

I head over to the lady in the red coat. “I can give you a free sample if you like?” I offer up my cheeriest voice as not to scare her off. If she really is just your run-of-the-mill customer, I’d hate to come across as rude. Although, I’m tired, I’ve just stumbled upon my fifth body in five months, and my boyfriend has a standing date with a woman who could be gracing magazine covers. Suddenly, rude is all I ever want to be.

She shakes her head, her gaze nailed to the floor.

“That’s fine. Can I get you some coffee instead? I’m still brewing my peppermint blend if you’d like a cup of that.”

Her gaze flits my way. Her hood creates a shadow over her eyes, and all I see is the glint of a white flash like lightning. She gives a reluctant nod, and I get straight to pouring her a cup.

“Here you go.” I slide it across the counter with a smile as she slowly makes her way over. “This one’s on me. There’s creamer and sugar near the door. Help yourself to a seat and stay awhile.”

Her hand clasps the coffee, and for the briefest of moments her eyes connect with mine and that sharp glance spears a jolt of surprise in me, like the lighting of a match or the pointing of a gun, something urgent and, dare I say, dangerous. She gruffs out a muffled thank you and heads to a table near the window, head down, shoulders slumped over herself.

“Weird,” I whisper just as Keelie bops in from next door. When Nell was putting together the bakery, Bear, my wily ex, suggested that we blow a hole through the wall to create a walkway from the bakery to the Honey Pot Diner. The Honey Pot was Nell’s first love. Years ago, she had a large resin oak tree set in the middle of the Honey Pot whose branches extend all over the ceiling and even creep into the café portion of the bakery. Each branch is lovingly wrapped in twinkle lights, and it gives a hopelessly romantic appeal.

“You’re weird.” Keelie winks as she bumps her hip to mine.

“You’re more right than you know.” I glance past her to the cooling racks. “I baked something new, and you’re just in time to try it.” I quickly procure my birthday cake cookies, and soon Keelie is moaning with delight.

“Is there nothing you can’t do? Grammy is going to love these.”

“Don’t I know it. I thought I should go the extra mile, seeing that she asked for the same seven-layer cake that Eve wanted.”

Keelie sucks in a sharp breath. “You mean that Eve keeled over in. Are you sure you should be giving that same cake to Grammy Nell? I’m smelling some bad juju here.”

I balk at the thought, “Nope. Not one ounce of bad juju.”

My phone bleats in my pocket, and I fish it out. “It’s a text from Noah,” I say, reading it quickly and gasping. “He says the coroner has ruled Eve Hollister’s death a homicide. She was poisoned,” I say it just above a whisper, my entire body numb with shock.

My phone pings again. Do not, and I repeat do not involve yourself in this investigation. Judging by all the witnesses I’ve already questioned, I have a feeling this case will be solved relatively quickly. And please don’t say a word. I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up. Love you.

I wince up at Keelie. “He said not to say a word.”

“My lips are sealed. So, where are you taking me first? You know, to investigate for clues? You think we’ll be skinny-dipping again? Or how about those cute boys at the Hard Body Gym?” She moans, giving the wall behind me a dreamy look. “Those were some good times. I wouldn’t mind a few more numbers filling up my contacts list.”

“Keelie, I thought you said Hook was taking you to dinner?”

“He is, but until he makes us Facebook official, I’m not taking myself off the market.”

“Keelie, nobody is paying attention to who is and isn’t official on Facebook anymore.”

“Well, I am, and I say it’s as good as a wedding ring.”

The bell on the door jingles and in walks Lily and three unfamiliar, albeit perky, girls, each looking prettier than the next.

She makes a beeline for Keelie and me. “Meet my witches.” She gives a cheeky wink. “A few of my sorority sisters are checking out Honey Hollow for a business opportunity, and I invited them here for a cup of coffee.”

“Ah,” I say, looking at the three near identical brunettes. Each one has perfect olive skin, glossy long black hair, and an abundance of lip gloss on their heavily inflated lips. “I’m Lottie Lemon, and this is Keelie Turner. She works at the Honey Pot next door.”

Lily extends her hand to the first brunette. This one is the tallest, her brows peak dramatically over her heavily drawn in eyes, and she seems to have a snarl on her face despite her perky disposition. A neat trick if you could pull it off, and she does.

“This is Greer Giles, Nikki Spencer, and Tinsley Shields, my Tri Delta sorority sisters.”

“My mother was Tri Delta,” I say, offering them a genuine smile, but I’m not met with so much as a wink in return. “I should have rushed but chose to endure an awful relationship instead. You know what they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

“I haven’t heard that,” the first girl, Greer, growls out.

Greer is the scowler. Nikki has sort of a blank expression, which offers her a serene yet worrisome appeal, and Tinsley looks bored out of her mind. All three are wearing head to toe black yoga wear with black winter coats open in the front.

“Greer”—the angry one grunts my way for no reason—“like the cheese but spelled better.”

All four of them break out into high-pitched cackles, and I can’t help but note they really do have a bit of a witchy appeal. Hey? Maybe Lily was being literal?

Keelie groans, “So, what kind of business opportunities are there in Honey Hollow? Inquiring minds want to know.”

Yeah, and even those minds who don’t really care all that much, I want to say, but don’t.

“A coffee shop.” Tinsley, the bored one, perks to life. It’s only then I notice her slate gray eyes. Each one seems to hold its own enchanted beauty. Spooky actually. “There’s a place opening up next door to the Busy Bee down the street.”

“The comic shop is closing?” My mouth falls open with shock. It’s not like I’ve been their number one patron, but they’ve been a staple on Main Street for as long as I can remember and the tourists really love it.

“Yup.” Nikki, the blank slate, widens her eyes, and I get this dizzy feeling like I might fall right in. “It’s big enough for a kitchen and a dining room, so we’re looking into selling cookies and cupcakes and some of those things.” She makes a face while pointing to my strawberry pecan jumbles.

“Cookies and cupcakes and coffee?” I say it dazed, mostly to myself. “But I sell all those things.”

Greer tips her head back with a laugh. “Well then, I guess we’re checking out our competition, ladies,” she cheers, and the four of them exchange obnoxious high fives.

“Good luck with the coven,” Keelie whispers as she heads back to the Honey Pot. “I meant what I said, Lottie. I’m up for another adventure. Just say the word. And make sure it’s f-u-n!”

I wrinkle my nose at her. I’m sure nothing about Eve’s murder investigation will be f-u-n.

The door chimes once again and in walks a tall, dark, and morbidly handsome judge that stops the heart of every living female in the vicinity. Everett truly is a heartbreaker and a heart-stopper. A dangerous combo if ever there was one.

“Oh my living God.” Greer steps toward him blindly. “Please tell me you’re single because I am ready to mingle.” Her hips do this weird little shimmy as they inch their way to his. She holds out her hand, and Lily swats it away.

“Careful, ladies, this one is taken—as in mine all mine.” Lily does her best to attach herself to his side like a barnacle, but Everett sidesteps the budding assault.

“Lemon”—he nods my way—“can I have a word with you?”

“Sure thing. Lily, feel free to have coffee with your friends between customers.” That’s my kind way of saying that one hour break you stretched into two is officially over.

“What’s going on?” I say as Everett leads us away from the cackling brood.

His cologne hasn’t softened a bit after a full day of work, and he looks just as dashing as ever in his dark suit. His shoulders look as wide as a building, and he has that commanding presence that makes sure everyone in the room with ovaries is paying him his due homage.

“Did you get a chance to speak with Nell?”

I wince. “Not yet. There was just so much to do around here today, and by the time I got around to doing it, I realized she was already winding down her day. But don’t you worry. I’m bent on sooner than later. In fact, I’ll try tomorrow. Is that all you stopped in for? You do realize I happen to live next door.” I bat my lashes, teasing him for going the extra mile for me.

“No.” He smacks his lips as he looks to the unholy huddle near the register. “It’s my sister’s birthday, and I’m heading out to Fallbrook.” He frowns over at Lily and her sorority sisters. “My mother and sister think I’m engaged. I thought I’d see if Lily was up for doing a little role-playing tonight.”

“Excuse me? I’m not sure if I’m more incensed by the fact you lied to your family or the fact you’d want Lily to stand in as your bride-to-be. You do realize she will never let us hear the end of this—and to be honest, she will seriously blur the lines of fantasy and reality. No way, no how. I’m the one that will have to live with the aftermath.”

Everett’s chest expands. “I suppose I can ask Fiona.”

“Fiona Dagmeyer aka the Dagger?” Fiona is a defense attorney that just so happens to be one of his infamous exes. “No way will they ever buy that.” A forced laugh pumps from me. “You need someone sweet, demure, someone without an ego or a nose job.” I almost said boob, but I’m betting he is well aware of all of Lily’s plastic bits and pieces.

His lids hood low, and his lips curl at the tips, giving the slightest hint of a smile. “Who do you suggest?”

“Noah’s working late, and I’m off in five.” I untie my apron from the back. “Let me box up some goodies to take with us. I just so happened to make the perfect cookie for such an event.”

“Lemon”—Everett says as I’m about to take off, and I look back up at him—“I’ll be sure to make this worth your while.” A dark laugh strums from his chest, and I wave him off as I head into the kitchen and make up a box of my birthday cake cookies.

Everett and I are just friends, and he knows it. Noah knows it, too. Although, I doubt I’ll bring up the fact I pretended to be his ex-stepbrother’s fiancée for the evening.

A horrible feeling of foreboding overcomes me as I step into yet another secret I plan on keeping from Noah.

I’m just being silly. This is silly. Noah wouldn’t care. Our relationship is solid. He trusts me, and I trust him.

But I’m still not going to tell him.

And now I have two secrets I don’t mind one bit taking to the grave.