Read Online Spells and Scones by Bailey Cates - Free Book Online Page A

house cast crazy shadows in the moonlight as I unlocked the door and reached inside to flip the light switch.
    The living room bloomed into view: peach walls, worn wooden planks beneath my feet, built-in bookshelves to the right, and beyond that the short hallway that led tothe bedroom and bathroom. Straight ahead, my vintage purple fainting couch backed against the far wall. To the left of it, French doors opened out to the small covered patio and extensive gardens beyond. Narrow stairs led to the loft above, where a futon served as guest quarters and a drop-lid secretary’s desk kept my altar tidy—and hidden from general view.
    I loved coming home to this place. Even though Declan spent a lot of his time here, it was mine, bought and paid for with the money I’d so carefully saved for the house my fiancé and I had planned to move into after our marriage. But shortly before our wedding day, Andrew had gotten cold feet and called everything off.
    Very shortly before.
    His fear of commitment had been the best thing that had ever happened to me. Sure, there was rejection, heartbreak, and anger. But in the end I’d moved to Savannah, which I absolutely loved, opened my dream business, and bought this adorable house—not to mention discovering my true witchy nature and finally understanding why I’d always felt so different from everyone else. And if it hadn’t been for Andrew canceling our wedding, I’d never have met Declan, and I wouldn’t have the amazing group of friends I had now.
    I wasn’t usually one to think that absolutely everything happens for a reason. However, many things seem to, and when it came to getting married versus moving to Savannah, the trade had been worth all of the pain of the journey.
    Mungo barked, bringing me back from my wandering thoughts. He ran to the kitchen and looked back at me expectantly.
    â€œOkay, okay. I’ll get the pasta going.” I tossed my tote on one of the two wingbacks that sat across fromthe purple couch and turned back to close the wooden shutters over the front windows.
    In no time a pot of salted water was heating on the stove, and I’d laid out asparagus, lemon, garlic, tarragon, and mustard for an easy sauce. I’d make a quick salad after Declan got there, but first I wanted to have a little chat.
    With my dog.
    â€œCome in here, Mungo.”
    He made a noise in the back of his throat and looked at his place mat in the corner of the kitchen.
    â€œYou can eat later. With us.” I turned and walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. A few minutes later he followed, only once glancing back at the kitchen and its treasure trove of people food.
    I patted the seat beside me. He jumped up and put his front paws on my lap, his brown eyes now riveted on mine.
    â€œThat Angie woman told me you used to be her familiar.”
    He licked my chin.
    â€œIs that true?”
    Yip!
    â€œAnd . . . you ran away?”
    Yip!
    I slumped against the sloping back of the couch. My day had started at four thirty a.m. I’d baked and served customers and then baked some more. I’d set up for a book signing and witnessed bad behavior on many fronts, and once again a dead body had turned up on my watch. But here I was in my living room, having a rather emotional talk with my canine companion, and my stomach was tied in worse knots than I’d felt all day.
    Apparently, meeting your familiar’s . . . ex trumped murder on the anxiety scale.
    Mungo’s forehead scrunched, and he climbed all theway onto my lap. He dipped his head and pushed it into my hand. I stroked his soft ears, and he looked up at me from beneath his doggy eyebrows with such sweetness that my heart melted.
    â€œAnd you picked me,” I whispered.
    He grinned.
Yip.
    â€œIs your real name supposed to be Mongo?” I asked around the lump in my throat.
    He sneezed and shook his head vigorously.
    â€œSo it’s