One Tequila - An Althea Rose Mystery

Chapter 1

“But I'm quite certain Bitsy would wish to speak with me,” the woman across from me sniffed and clutched a folded silk handkerchief with a perfectly monogrammed E on the corner. The point of her chin rose as she looked down her nose at me.

“Mrs. Evanston, I've already explained this – I'm a psychic – not a medium,” I sighed as Mrs. Evanston's eyes steeled up and her shoulders braced.

“Well, I'd say that you're certainly misleading people with your little psychic shop if you can't even talk to Bitsy for me.” Mrs. Evanston narrowed her eyes at me. I could already read the threat in her mind: she would be contacting the Better Business Bureau and by lunch, she'd be tearing my reputation to threads with her Ladies Who Lunch club. Mentally rolling my eyes, I plastered a smile across my face.

“The reason that I don't advertise being a medium is because it's so incredibly draining for me,” I began, lying through my teeth. “However, for you, I'll make an exception.”

A muffled snort from a screen to my left almost had me cracking a smile but instead, I stayed focused on my client. Hope had dawned in Mrs. Evanston's eyes as she leaned forward, hands pressed into the purple velvet of my table.

“You can? Oh, oh, just...can you tell me if she is safe?” Mrs. Evanston breathed, staring into my glass scrying ball on the table.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, doing my best to get an image of Bitsy from Mrs. Evanston's thoughts. A puffball of a white cat popped into my head, so I went with it.

“Her coat is just as stunning as it was in life – I see her walking proudly,” I said, keeping my eyes closed and praying that I had hit the mark.

“Ohhhh,” Mrs. Evanston breathed and I snuck a look to see her with a hand over her mouth, a sheen of tears making her eyes glint behind her glasses. Her hair, the perfectly blue-gray rinse favored by the elderly set on Tequila Key, bobbed as she nodded.

“She was really proud of her coat. Bitsy was a show cat, you know,” Mrs. Evanston said.

“I can see she carries herself as such. She is wonderfully happy and has told me that her only concern is for you to find peace with her passing,” I said gently, using my de rigueur explanation when clients insisted that I contact a loved one.

No matter what, it seemed that when people heard psychic, they thought I could do anything.

Magic even.

I'd leave that to my best friend and business partner, Luna Lavelle, the one who had so gracefully snorted from the other room of our Luna Rose Potions & Tarot Shop tucked on a sleepy street in Tequila Key, Florida.

“You know, Althea Rose, your mother may be the famous one, but I think you've inherited her gift,” Mrs. Evanston said, rising to shake my hand with a smile. I scanned her thoughts and all I got was pleasure, so as far as I was concerned, the reading had been a successful one.

I checked my moral compass and decided as white lies go, it was a minor one. People only come to psychics for two reasons – to find out if they will be okay and to find out if someone they love will be okay. I turned my palm over to look at the $1 tip she had pressed into my hands. I had to laugh. Though the rich in this town liked to flaunt it with country club passes and fancy houses, in all reality they were stingy to the core. 

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Wild Irish Roots - Margaret & Sean

Chapter 1

Margaret took a sip of her wine, watching Keelin dance her first dance as a married woman. How had she grown up so fast?

And somehow, Keelin had ended up back in Grace's Cove. The one place that Margaret had sworn she'd never go back to. Margaret bit back the old feeling of bitterness that swelled in her throat.

“Long time no see,” Sean drawled from behind her and Margaret's back stiffened. Taking a deep breath, she turned to meet Sean's eyes.

Damn, the man was as handsome as ever. The well-cut tux showcased his broad shoulders. Though a few grays peppered his hair, his presence still radiated strength and virility. She'd done her best to steer clear of him since she'd arrived in Grace's Cove the night before, but it looked like their confrontation had arrived. Bracing her shoulders, and lifting her chin, Margaret eyed him.

“Sean,” Margaret said coolly.

“Come on, Maggie, that's the best you can do?” Sean asked, raising his eyebrow at her.

“It might be,” she said, sticking her nose in the air at her nickname.

“I don't like that answer,” Sean said, stepping closer and forcing her to look up at him. Margaret hadn't expected the punch of him. Heat licked low in her stomach.

“Well, you can't always get what you want,” Margaret said flippantly.

“Yeah, so I've learned,” Sean said bitterly. “But this time, I plan to.”

Margaret's heart leapt into her throat as he pulled the wine glass from her hand and stepped closer, forcing her to step backwards into the darkness.

“What are you doing?”

“What I've been meaning to do for a long time,” Sean said.

“Excuse me?” Margaret asked, steel lacing her voice.

And found the air knocked out of her as Sean reached down and hoisted her so that her body hung over his shoulder, her face staring at a very attractive bottom clad in tuxedo pants.

“You're crazy,” Margaret hissed, turning and smacking Sean lightly on the head. “Put me down this instant. This is unbecoming.”

“I'll show you unbecoming,” Sean muttered, continuing to stalk into the darkness. Margaret had a sinking suspicion of just where Sean was headed.

The site of their last show-down.

Of course Keelin had to go and have her wedding on the cliffs overlooking the beach that held the most pivotal moment in her life, Margaret grumbled to herself and prayed that none of the guests dancing in the tent had seen Sean carry her off.

“Hello, Shane,” Sean called and Margaret whipped her head around to see the dim outline of Shane, a local realtor she had met the night before, stalking away from the cove.

“Sean!” Margaret gasped, feeling heat creep up her cheeks. She'd never found herself in such a comprising position before.

Oh wait, just that one time. With this same man.

And wasn't this just why she had stayed away from Grace's Cove?