CASSANDRA WILLOWSTONE
Dorianna plucked the box from Rane's grasp. "I suppose I can forgive Cassandra for this… mistake."
Her gaze drilled into me, letting me know in no uncertain terms that my mistake was to show her up in front of Rane.
Her attempt to get me into trouble had failed and she wouldn't care that this particular drama was her own creation. Nope. It didn't matter. I could expect reprisals.
What else was new?
"Good afternoon, ladies," said Rane, nodding good-bye.
I'm sure his dismissal stung the witches, but the Millers had no choice but to return to their lair where they'd no doubt concoct more schemes to ruin lives. Mine, especially.
Dorianna and Tilda cast disparaging glances in my direction and then spun on their high heels, clattering down the sidewalk like a pair of drunken gazelles.
"I hope it doesn't rain," said Rane. "Those two might drown with their noses up in the air like that."
I laughed. Still smiling, I looked at him, grateful for his help. "Thank you for believing me. But you better watch your backside, Rane." I shook my head. "Despite what she says, Dorianna isn't the forgiving type."
"I'm not surprised. I've seen rattlers with less hostility," he said. "Don't you worry about me, Cassie. I've dealt with a hundred Dorianna Millers."
"Were they witches?"
He shrugged. "A few, here or there. The covens didn't give us much trouble."
"Well, there's only one coven in Garden Grove. And just about every witch in town belongs to it."
He looked at me, his brown eyes filled with both curiosity and empathy. "Except you."
"Yeah. Except me." I sighed. Then I realized I was being—as my mother often said—a Sally Sad Sack. I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin. "You know, if I'm being honest, I'd give about anything to be accepted into the coven, too."
"Why?" He seemed flummoxed about my confession. Like I'd said I'd eat bugs all day if only a group of rabid honey badgers would love me. I guess, from his perspective, it amounted to the same kind of wish.
"It would change everything for me and for my sisters," I said. "Witches founded this town, Rane. Like it or not, the Garden Grove coven controls most of the businesses and the local government positions."
"Well, they don't control mine."
"Apparently not. How did you get the Sheriff position without the approval of the coven?" I realized my question might be considered too bold. I added, "If you don't mind me asking."
"Not at all. The original town charter gives the Sheriff the ability to choose his successor without interference from any governing council. Given all the power plays in motion around these parts, I see why Garden Grove's founders thought it necessary for the main law enforcement officer to have autonomy."
I blinked. "I wasn't aware of that rule." Sheriff Cooper had been in charge of the town's police force during my whole life. I never thought of anyone else in that role, much less the handsome man standing in front of me.
"My family's known Leland Cooper a long time," said Rane. "He's good people."
"He is," I agreed. "I hope he likes retirement."
"He does," said Rane. "He's moving to Florida to be closer to his grandkids. I'll tell him you said hello."
"Thank you." I didn't know a whole lot about Sheriff Cooper, even though he probably knew everything about the Willowstone Family. Maybe the difference was that we didn't have an actual friendship.
Unfortunately, ever since my mother's death, we'd constantly been on the radar of law enforcement, usually through no fault of our own. I realized now that Sheriff Cooper had long been a protector of our family, and I'd never really thanked him for all he'd done for us.
"Where's your car, Cassie?" Rane smiled, and I felt butterflies tumble in my belly. Wow. He had a great mouth. I bet he could do all kind of wonderful things with those lips. Heat swept through me, and I tried to shake away the tingles of attraction.
I tilted my head. "This way."
Rane walked me to my beat-up Honda. As I got into my car, he promised to call me later. He waited for me to pull out of my spot before he waved a final goodbye and turned to walk into the park.
I looked at my dashboard clock and groaned. It was twenty minutes past eleven. Dang it. Being this late to work would mean a trip to Pete the Pincher's office. Eh. How bad could it be?
I had an excellent attendance record. I could count on one hand how many times I'd been late in the two years I'd worked for the factory. I never took a vacation or sick days.
"You'll be fine," I muttered. I'd offer to work until eight p.m. to make up for my tardiness, and that would be that.
Getting to the factory took a little more than ten minutes, so I didn't pull into the parking area until after 11:30 a.m.
I wasn't sure what to tell Pete about why I was late. Oh, hey, Pete. Why am I late? Well, after I finished all of her errands and she used her magic to make me fall on my face, Dorianna Miller accused me of being a thief in front of the new sheriff.
None of that would go over well. First, telling stories—true or not—about Dorianna was unwise. Whatever I said would get back to her. Second, relaying the morning's events would put me in a bad light. Dorianna was like a duck. Water, and scandal, slid right off the woman's back. But not mine. It stuck to me like tar. Finally, I wanted to get out of Pete's office as quickly as possible. I didn't want to deal with his innuendos and nipping fingers.
I hurried into the factory then I jogged down the hall and into the locker room. I quickly stored my purse and tied on my apron.
In the hallway, I punched in to the employee time clock, but before I could start the trek to Pete's office, he popped out of his doorway and said sternly, "I need to speak with you, Cassandra."
The tone of his voice sent anxiety zipping through me. I walked into his office, foreboding stabbing my belly. He sat behind his desk, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. "You're late."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Pincher."
Pete's doughy face squished in irritation.
Oh, my Goddess! I'd called my boss Mr. Pincher. Heat rushed into my cheeks. I tried to correct my verbal mistake. "Mr. Paller, I'm so, so sorry. I had an emergency."
"An emergency?" He shook his head. "You call almost getting arrested for stealing from one our owners an emergency?"