too. For some reason, fate had marked him and the only way to escape the inevitable was to go somewhere where criminals didn’t exist, or didn’t carry guns. So Will had found a new job on the border between Maine and Canada, in a place called Barstow Ferry, a quaint little village on the St. John River.
When he reached the front door of the shop, he pasted a charming smile on his face and tried to think optimistically. He’d dealt with violent drug dealers and trigger-happy wise guys. He could certainly handle some old lady who thought she was a witch.
Kelsey Quinn looked up from the herbs she was grinding with her mortar and pestle. A man stood in the doorway and she stared at him for a long moment, wondering what he wanted. Most of her business was with the women in town. When a man stopped by the shop, it was usually to warn her off doing business with his wife.
“Can I help you?”
He paused for a long moment, an odd expression coming over his face. “Are you Kelsey Quinn?”
Kelsey sighed and went back to her task. “If you have a problem, I understand there’s a new police chief in town. Would you like me to call him?”
The man stepped inside and slowly crossed the room to the counter. As he came closer, Kelsey held her breath. He was a stranger—she knew almost everyone in town and she would have remembered meeting this guy. His thick dark hair framed a handsome face with intense blue eyes and a mouth that curled up at the corners in a charming smile.
“You and I need to talk,” he said.
Kelsey picked up the cordless phone and dialed the number for the police station. “Have a look around. The police are usually really slow. If some bloodthirsty ax murderer happened to show up in Barstow Ferry, I’m sure he’d have plenty of time to kill the entire village before the police showed up.”
“Really? That bad?”
Kelsey nodded, listening for the connection. “Yes, this is Kelsey over at the Thistle and Thorn. Could you send someone over right away? I have another disgruntled spouse.”
She hung up the phone and watched as the man picked through a basket of blackberry tea. “Blackberry leaf tea is good for stomach problems. And it can be used as a poultice for sunburns or other skin irritations. I gather those leaves from wild blackberry bushes up on the ridge above the river. The bushes have been there for over a hundred years.”
A shiver skittered through her as she watched him wander around the shop. He really was a beautifully built man, tall and lean. Her gaze dropped down to his hands and her breath caught in her throat as she imagined those hands touching her face, skimming over her shoulders, spanning her waist. She tried to calm her suddenly racing pulse.
A loud squawk split the silence of the shop, jolting Kelsey out of her fantasy. The stranger pulled a small radio out of his jacket pocket. “Ross here,” he said, depressing a button on the side.
“We have a 10-44 in progress,” the woman’s voice said. Kelsey recognized the police department’s dispatcher, Lenore Wilkens, a retired schoolteacher they’d hired last year.
“A 10-44 would be a possible mental subject, Lenore. I think for this call we should say it’s a 10-70 or maybe a 10-94. You need to memorize the codes if you’re going to work dispatch.”
“Why can’t I just tell you what’s going on?” Lenore asked.
“All right,” he said, shaking his head. “Go ahead.”
“Kelsey Quinn over at the Thistle and Thorn says she’s got a disgruntled spouse who’s giving her problems. I think you ought to get over there right away. And tell her I’ll be in for my gout tea later this afternoon. 10-4. Over and out. Bye-bye.”
He looked up at Kelsey and she winced. “So you’re him,” she said. “The new police chief.”
Will nodded and held out his hand. “Will Ross. Yes, I’m the new police chief here in town.”
She placed her fingers in his and felt a current of desire race through her body like an electric shock.
He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
“So who sent you?” Kelsey asked, her fingers still curled around his.
Will was reluctant to break the contact. His heart was beating so fast he could almost hear it through his shirt and canvas jacket. He wasn’t surprised at his body’s reaction. Once he’d decided to move out of Boston, his on-again off-again girlfriend had turned the switch permanently to off on their relationship. It had been a while since he’d even touched a woman.
“The village board. They think you’re perpetrating a fraud upon some of the citizens of Barstow Ferry.”
“I’m not. What I do here is legitimate. I’m an herbalist and a holistic healer and trained in ayurvedic medicine. I have a degree in psychology and I’m a certified acupuncturist.” She sighed and shook her head. “It’s going to take a lot more than a visit from you to run me out of town.”
Will slowly drew his hand away from hers and caught her gaze. “Can we sit down and talk? Maybe there’s a way to resolve this problem? You seem to be a reasonable person and I’m certainly open to exploring a compromise.”
“I was just going to have some tea,” she said. “Would you like a cup?”
Will really wasn’t a tea kind of guy, but what the hell. If it meant he could spend a few more minutes getting to know the town witch, then he’d drink puddle water and enjoy it. “Yeah, a cup of tea would be nice.”
She led him back to a small alcove at the rear of the store. It might have been the spot that housed the parts counter in the old filling station. Her small tearoom was beautifully decorated with dried flower garlands and pretty fabrics.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, disappearing through another door.
Will picked up a book sitting in the center of the table. It was an antique text on herbology, filled with hand-tinted illustrations. Tucked in between the pages were tiny dried flowers. He picked up a pressed violet and examined it carefully.
She returned carrying a tray with tea and cookies. “Violets,” she said. “They’re used for laxative purposes.”
“Good to know,” he murmured, putting the flower back into the book. “So tell me, how did you get into this line of work?”
“How did I become a witch?” she asked. “That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it?”
“Are you a witch?” Will asked.
She gave him an enigmatic smile that he found endlessly attractive. God, she was all sorts of pretty. Her auburn hair fell around her shoulders in a tumble of thick waves, and long lashes ringed eyes of a strange but fascinating teal color. “That’s what people call me. But most witches in early times were healers. That’s what I am.”
