Chapter One

The burst of crisp air lifted the hairs on the nape of Bridget’s neck. She glanced toward the opening door as the bell above it chimed, and smiled out of habit. She froze her muscles in place as an old schoolmate who used to tease her walked in. “Hey, Julie. What brings you in today?” She knit her fingers together to keep from fidgeting.

Julie beelined her way. “Bridget! I’m glad it’s you here today. Not that your gran isn’t lovely, it’s just that I’m hoping you can help me. You did assist me that one other time.”

As if she could forget Julie wanting a love potion from her. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, Bridget tucked her dark curls behind one ear. “Of course, what do you need?”

Julie leaned in closer and glanced around furtively, despite no other customers being present. “Something for nausea,” she whispered and touched a palm to her abdomen. “Because…you know.”

She sucked in a surprised breath and widened her eyes. “You’re pregnant?” Bridget kept her voice soft and cut her eyes over to the door for a split second.

Nodding, Julie beamed. “It’s still early and we’re going to wait to tell anyone, but the morning sickness is killing me.” Her diamond ring glinted in the light as she brushed her bangs to the side. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks since I found out. I thought since you had something for attracting Ben, then you might have something now?”

Uncomfortable warmth smoldered in Bridget’s chest. “No, no. The lotion I gave you wasn’t for attraction. It was for confidence. Lavender for relaxation, ylang-ylang to boost romantic thoughts and rosehips for feminine allure. All combined to give confidence in yourself. A natural inner glow is what attracts someone, not the lotion you put on. Soft skin and smelling good boosts self-assurance. Nothing more.” She spun and stepped to the back wall with Julie trailing along.

“Whatever you say.” Julie laughed and waved a hand. “All that matters is that you have something to solve my morning sickness problem.”

Bridget snagged a tub from the third shelf in front of her then led the way to the left wall and picked up a tin. “Here you go.” She held both out. “Lotion to put on pressure points when you’re feeling nauseated. Rub it into those spots, and the massage plus the scent should help lessen it.”

Julie examined the containers as Bridget continued talking.

“Tea to help keep things at bay. Ginger and lemongrass, plus caffeine-free.” They crossed the well-loved dark wood floor over to the ornately carved mahogany counter with an heirloom cash register prominently displayed on it. Beside it rested a small white tablet and credit card reader. An assortment of colored leaves and tiny pumpkins dotted the length of the desk.

As Bridget rang up the items, she flashed a quick smile. “Hopefully these will ease your tummy troubles, but obviously I can’t give any guarantees.” She shrugged and opened her mouth to apologize, but Julie interrupted.

“Okay, whatever you say. I’ll try anything at this point and even if it’s just a little relief, I’ll take it!” She tapped her card and grabbed the gold-embossed navy paper bag with her goods. “Thank you so much. I knew you’d have what I needed.” She stepped back and arched one brow with a colder smile. “You’re so magical.” Julie turned back and headed out. “After all, you are the town witch!” Julie’s laugh vibrated after her exit.

Bridget wanted to protest, but in the pit of her stomach, an icy void opened for a shaky moment. As Julie walked out of view, Bridget wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and swallowed hard. “Not a witch. Not magical. I just sell herbal stuff. That’s it.”

Ugh, when would the people of this town learn? They never seemed to mind when they needed her products but wouldn’t associate with her outside of the shop. To make herself feel less isolated, she shot off a quick text to her cousin, Becca, to see about grabbing dinner together this week.

Then she shook off her mutterings and anxiety, instead focusing on closing up the shop for the night. A quick sweeping of the floors, restocking gaps on the shelves and closing out the register and Bridget deemed herself ready to head home.

She poked her head out a side door and called up the stairs. “Gran, I’m heading home.”

A lined face peeped into the hall. “Night, Bridgie! I’ll open up in the morning and see you around midday.”

Bridget furrowed her brow. “You sure? I don’t mind coming in.”

Gran waved her off. “Enjoy your morning. It’s not as if I haven’t been running this store for almost my entire life.”

With a sigh, Bridget relented. There was no arguing when Gran made a decision. Like moving out of their little house together to live above the shop. Apparently, Gran wanted to live out her remaining years without a granddaughter “cramping her style” in case she had any “gentlemen callers.” While Bridget couldn’t fault her grandmother for wanting a bit of independence after raising two granddaughters, she still felt the sting. And the loneliness of the empty house.

“All right, Gran. I’ll bring lunch then. Good night!”

“Night-night, dear.”

After locking the front door, Bridget tucked her hand into the pockets of her hunter-green peacoat and walked up the block to the Harvest Street parking garage. The brisk fall wind lifted the heavy mass of long, dark curls from her shoulders. Tension released from her muscles as each step took her from Three Sisters Apothecary. She lifted her face to the evening sunlight, enjoying the warmth. Today had gone well. Sales were decent, the autumn decorations added a fresh breath of vibrancy and the customers were friendly…ish.

A beep from her phone revealed a response from Becca, suggesting Tuesday for dinner at her house. Happiness filled her chest as she smiled and sent back a message agreeing.

With September ushering in the pumpkin patches opening for the season and the leaves starting to turn, more and more tourists were trickling in. The upcoming annual harvest festival in two months would keep those numbers climbing. A grateful breath left her as a red truck rumbled down the road. She glanced at the brown-haired, bearded man inside the cab as he passed, but didn’t recognize him. Maybe another tourist? New lumberjack in town for seasonal work?

A mother and child walked in her direction about half a block from her. Without thinking, Bridget lifted the corners of her mouth in greeting, but the woman took one look at her and jerked to halt. Then she tugged her child’s hand and they scurried to the other side of the road.

The wind carried the child’s voice. “Mommy, is that the witch?”

The woman rushed to quiet her son, but it was too late. Bridget’s brief moment of confidence and contentment fizzled and died within her. She pulled the collar of her jacket tighter and tucked her chin into the fabric. Eyes down, she double-timed her steps to get to her car and get home. Alone.

 

* * * *

Jack scratched at his beard, still adjusting to having hair on his face, as he drove down the main road in Fallbank. What was he doing in the middle-of-nowhere Oregon again? Oh yeah, investigating whether this local logging company would be the next great acquisition for Thompson Incorporated. He tightened his fingers on the wheel of the red pick-up truck he’d purchased used as part of his “undercover boss” scheme. His grandfather’s scheme. The one designed to “help find his path in life.” Being groomed to take over the family business didn’t count.

“I guess an MBA and landing all those deals for our current companies over the last five years isn’t enough,” he grumbled as he drove through the quaint downtown. All of the shops had fall-themed window displays and the sidewalks were lined with wooden flower boxes overflowing with chrysanthemums of all colors, with large pumpkins nestled between them. A massive sign stretched across two light poles advertising the “Forty-Third Annual Fallbank Fall Festival” on Halloween this year. Was that what counted as excitement around here? He shook his head. Well, at least this town wasn’t completely devoid of any form of entertainment.

Jack had to admit a quieter pace for a few months would be a nice change from the high intensity of the office and hustle of Seattle. A way to reset the nagging sense of restlessness, of life slipping by with only shallow platitudes to show for it. Sure, money could buy a lot, but there was something missing from his life that Jack couldn’t name.

The vehicle passed a woman in a dark green coat, then a mother and child duo. The kid waved as he drove by and Jack raised a hand in return. Maybe that was what was missing. Companionship. A relationship with a woman who didn’t want him for his money and gilded last name, but for him as a person. As a partner in life. Not that he was going to find that here. He snorted. Nope, he was here to learn the logging business firsthand and see how it fit within the massive holdings of the family business.

Two lefts and one right turn later and his phone had successfully navigated him to the office of Timber Logging Company. Jack hopped out of his truck and walked in. A tall, lanky guy with glasses met him.

“Hey, I’m Cornelius. You must be Jack?”

Shaking his offered hand, Jack nodded. “That’s me. Nice to meet you. Sorry I’m late, traffic getting out of Seattle was even more ridiculous than I expected.”

Cornelius laughed. “Well, that’s one thing you won’t have to worry about here. So, you’re the new hire, huh? Ever done logging before?”

Heat crept into his cheeks and Jack found himself grateful for his newly grown beard. “Uh, not really. I’ve worked construction, though. I’m hoping that will give me something to go off. I’m a quick learner.”

Cornelius lifted his eyebrows but didn’t show any other surprise. “We’ll do our best to keep you alive as long as you do the same for the rest of us.”

“I can agree to that.” He glanced around at the dated office interior. Linoleum flooring, faux-wood paneling, plain drop ceiling and well-used furniture. No wonder his father was eager about this deal. The business clearly needed an infusion of funds. Except the offices would shift up to Seattle once bought and they would bring their own teams to do the logging. As he looked back at Cornelius, a small stab of guilt hit him in the gut. Jack shook it off. This was business, not personal.

“You have a place to stay, Jack? Need anything to get you settled?” Cornelius nudged his glasses up his nose.

Jack cleared his throat. “I’m staying at the local hotel while I find a place to rent. I’ve got a couple of leads to check out. I think I’ll be set by the weekend.”

“Good, good. Let me know if you need any leads or want suggestions for things to do around town. This time of year, the tourist traffic picks up because of the crisp weather and fall celebrations happening in the surrounding area. There’s got to be at least two each weekend within a fifty-mile radius. And of course, we have our own at the end of October.” He grinned wide. “Fallbank is famous for our festival and lumberjack competition. Some great competitive games we’ve hosted. The festival boasts the largest turnout in the state for the last ten years since TLC sponsors it in conjunction with the fair.” Cornelius waggled his brows. “The ladies love it.”

Jack laughed with him and shook his head. “That’ll be a sight to see. Who knows, maybe I’ll have learned enough to enter a beginners’ tournament. Although I’m not on the relationship market at the moment.”

Cornelius hummed with a nod. “You have a girlfriend back in Seattle?”

“Nah, just taking a break after the last one.” A year-long break, but who was counting?

“I hear you. I must admit, the fawning is nice. A little ego boost is never a bad thing.”

“Right. Well, what time should I show up tomorrow? And where?”

Cornelius ran a hand through his sandy-blond hair. “I’d say around eight o’clock and you can meet me here. We usually ride up in teams with the equipment trucks.”

“Sounds good.” Jack nodded once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

Back in town, Jack checked into the larger of the two hotels offered in Fallbank and crashed out on the bed. The hard mattress had him rethinking if he should have stayed at one of the multitudes of B&Bs around the area instead. He shook the thought off. He had several rentals to check out in the next two days so he could suck it up until he found a more permanent option. With that in mind, Jack set an alarm on his phone and closed his eyes. Travel weariness settled in his bones and in no time, he was out.

 

* * * *

Bridget yanked at her hair and sighed. She’d been staring at spreadsheets all afternoon in between customers. Grabbing an elastic, she piled her curls into a messy topknot and rolled her head from side to side. The tightness in her neck eased for a moment and she focused back on the numbers in front of her. God, but she hated this part of running the shop. Her sister Sarah was always the one with a head for business. Of course, that was why she thrived in Seattle and why Bridget was here treading to keep her head above water and drowning at the moment. Her family had run this shop in some form or fashion since before the town had been founded and she wasn’t about to be the reason it closed now. She’d figure it out.

“How’s it going over there?” Gran asked as she dusted shelves across the shop.

Bridget smiled at her. Brave face, don’t let her see anything’s wrong. She trusted you to take over, you can do this.

Not that you have any choice.

Bridget winced at the snide voice in her head. True, Sarah had run off to Seattle. Her cousin Becca was still in town, but she ran her own farm, without which, they wouldn’t have some of the ingredients to make their products. So stop being whiny, Bridget.

Gran had faith in her. So why couldn’t she have that for herself? What was wrong with a little confidence?

The bell above the door chimed and she straightened as a cluster of dirty, plaid-wearing men sauntered through the door. A head of sandy hair glinted in the sunlight. Bridget beamed and walked around the counter. “Hey, Cornelius!”

“Hi yourself, little B!” He threw an arm around her shoulders. “How’s it going?”

“Same old, same old. You?”

Cornelius released her and walked over to hug Gran. “Can’t complain. We’ve got a new project for the team that’ll get us all in fighting shape for the lumberjack competition.”

Gran shook her head. “You boys keep yourselves safe. Don’t go showing off like a bunch of peacocks.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cornelius answered.

“What brings in my favorite pseudo-grandson today?”

The flash of pain across Cornelius’ face was so quick most would miss it, but Bridget had known him almost her whole life. He recovered and adjusted his glasses to cover his expression, but Bridget felt the pang in her own chest, too. At one time she’d believed he would be her brother in truth, but that dream had dissipated when Sarah had left town.

Turning away from their conversation, she glanced at the other three guys. Two were in the corner where most of their skincare ointments were grouped and she waved hello to the familiar faces. The third faced the shelves of bath and pampering products with his hands shoved into his pockets. Judging from the tightness in his shoulders, she didn’t sense he was welcome to intrusion at the moment. Instead of bothering him, she returned to her stool where her computer and spreadsheets waited. After a few tallies, she picked up her pen to make notes about what products she needed to make more of this weekend.

“You have an error here.”

She jumped at the low voice from over her shoulder. Whirling around, she leaned back at the nearness of the man standing there…the very large man.

His grin was sheepish. “Sorry, I thought you heard me walk over. I couldn’t resist knowing what had you glowering at the screen.”

Sweet buzzing bees, but he was gorgeous. All that thick dark hair and those deep brown eyes coupled with a tall, muscular body whose clothes couldn’t seem to find an ounce of softness to emphasize. His tidy beard accented a strong jawline that made her fingers tingle to know the feel of it. Warmth spread across her belly. Plus those eyes…they kept drawing her back in. Velvety soft eyes that were currently squinting a bit in confusion.

“Hi!” Oh, jeez, why did she sound like an overexcited six-year-old? She cleared her throat and tried again. “I mean, hello. I was lost in all of this.” She fluttered a hand in the direction of the computer. “Did you need help with something?”

“No, no,” he answered. “I just saw that the number you have for jasmine bath salts up here is inverted in this formula at the bottom. It would make it look like you sold more than you had in stock.”

“Oh,” Bridget said as her cheeks heated. “Thanks.” She adjusted the number and the resulting change in numbers had her heart sinking. Shit.

“I, um, I don’t mean to pry, but you know there are some really great software programs available to help track your books easier than a spreadsheet and notebook.” He scratched at his chin.

Who was this dude? What made him think he could waltz into her store that had been in her family for almost two hundred years and tell her how to run things? Such a guy thing to do. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

He widened his eyes and lifted his palms up. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I had no right to insert myself in what’s clearly not my business. I just…never mind. Sorry.” He scratched at his beard again with a little more force.

She cocked her head to one side. “Does it itch?”

“Does what itch?”

“Your beard. You’ve scratched at it a couple of times.”

He dropped his hand and gave her a lopsided smile. “Yeah, it’s relatively new for me. I haven’t gotten used to it yet.”

Good grief, that smile with those eyes! She squeezed her thighs together. He was wreaking havoc on her lady parts. What had she been getting at again? His beard? “You should condition it,” she said, then tempered her outburst with a smile. “That is, I have a skin and beard conditioner you can rub into it to soften the hair and soothe the skin. Keeps it from getting itchy and irritated.”

“Uh, I don’t know. I’m not into this sort of thing.” He shoved his hands back into his pockets.

“You should try it out,” Cornelius said as he and Gran walked up. “Everything here is magic.”

Cornelius winked at her and she scowled back. Like she needed another person thinking that kind of stuff around here.

“Did you three meet?” Cornelius looked between them. “Little B and Gran, this is Jack Thompson. Jack, these lovely ladies are Esmerelda Wildes and her granddaughter, Bridget Wildes. Bridge here owns the store.”

“It’s Gran’s store,” she responded.

“It is not. You own it now,” Gran said proudly.

She gave her grandmother a look of pure sass. “It’s the family store.”

Gran laughed. “Can’t argue with that.” She turned to Jack. “It’s been in business since before the town was founded. We Wildes females ran it out of our homes originally, but then my mother decided to open up a brick-and-mortar storefront and here we are.”

Yes, here we are. Barely breaking even these days despite owning the property. It shouldn’t have been that hard, but it was. Production costs were killing them, even when making most of their items themselves. Packaging, additional ingredients, property taxes…the list went on and it grew each day. Pasting a smile on her face, Bridget yanked her mind back to the present. A quick glance showed Cornelius and one of the others holding her skin-healing salve. “Did you guys want those?”

“It’s the only thing that will save our hands from cracking and bleeding during these cold months.” Cornelius pushed his jar over to her for scanning.

She checked him out, then the other. She would always be grateful that Cornelius had dragged the other loggers into the store for a steady trickle of business. He knew there was nothing magical about any of the Wildes.

While she bagged the items, Cornelius shoved a tub of her beard conditioner at Jack. “You want this. Trust me.”

Jack looked warily at it, as if it might jump up and bite him. “I’m not much for beauty products.”

Cornelius and the other two guys cracked up. “Nah, this isn’t that kind of thing. Besides, you’re pretty enough already. Any prettier and we wouldn’t be able to hire you on account of the insurance needed to protect us if something happened to that face of yours.”

Jack rolled his eyes at Cornelius’ barb, set the item on the counter and reached for his wallet.

Bridget stopped him. “It’s on the house. Try it and see what you think. If you hate it, you’ve lost nothing. If you like it, you know where to get more.”

“I can’t do that,” he protested, but she shook her head.

Laying one palm over his weirdly uncalloused for a lumberjack hand, she let herself get captured by those dark eyes again. Tried and failed to ignore the electric thrill at touching his skin. “I’m not after your money. I help people, that’s what I do. If you want my assistance, here I am. If you don’t, that’s okay, too. No harm, no foul.” She shrugged and pulled her arm back. “I don’t want anyone uncomfortable because of me.”

His answer was soft. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Picking up the jar, he flashed those white teeth at her again.

Mmm, what would those feel like nipping at the sensitive skin just below her ear?

“I’ll try this stuff out.” Jack nodded to the computer. “Let me know if you want suggestions for software. I could help you, too.” He winked.

Her stomach fluttered in response. A wink like his could cause an all-out catfight between women. He turned to join the others waiting by the door and she couldn’t help but check out the fit of his jeans over his butt. Top-shelf keister on this guy.

She and Gran waved as they departed then Gran spun on her. “Well, wasn’t he a dish of a man! You and he’d have such pretty babies.” She poked Bridget in the side. “Get on that, girl. Hmm, a tush you could sink your teeth into on that one.”

“Gran!” Bridget gasped, a mix of scandalized and amused rushing through her. Her grandmother was definitely not one of those sweet little old ladies who baked cookies and knitted blankets. Well, she did do both of those things, but she did them while making very un-grandmotherly comments. “I’ll thank you to stay out of my love life.” Or lack thereof.

“Or lack thereof.” Gran crossed her arms and smiled like she knew she’d just read Bridget’s mind. “You need to stop worrying so much about this store and focus on your life outside of it. That’s what matters most. Things fall into place outside the home when the inside is happy.”

If only it were so easy. It wasn’t as if anyone was beating down her door to woo her. Hell, even a drink at the local bar was asking too much of the men in this town. It didn’t help that half of them thought of her as a little sister and the other half thought she was a witch. Come on, if she really were a witch, she’d be able to fold a damn fitted sheet, wouldn’t she? No, she was better off focusing on the store and making it as successful as possible. Everything else could wait. Having enough income to keep a roof over her head demanded a top spot on her priority list.

“Sure, Gran. I’ll get right on that.” Bridget flipped the sign to “closed” then turned back. Her grandmother’s expression was unamused. She sighed on the inside. “Really, Gran, I promise I won’t say no to any guy who doesn’t give off serial killer vibes or isn’t old enough to be my father and asks me out. And in the meantime, I’ll also focus on making sure the store doesn’t close because over two hundred years of Wildes sisters’ blood failed with me. Deal?”

Her grandmother narrowed her eyes, but let the discussion go for now. “That’s all I ask, dear.”