Page 2 of Holiday Hook Up

Strange—and downright spooky—given that Mary drowned in 1937; the blue mixing spoon had magical properties, and her message had been delivered via writing in cake batter from beyond.

Her request made him an instant Buttermilk Falls celebrity and extremely popular among the town’s single ladies, dying to finally get their chance to find out the names of their soul mates.

Before then, that information had only been given to bachelors during Batter Up nights.

Yeah, magical mixing spoons and enchanted spells were new territory for him. Luckily, he had some help from the one witch in Buttermilk Falls who knew a thing or two about magic. Emma Stevens, Josh’s cousin and owner of the Sugar Spoon bakery, was the supreme Buttermilk Falls witch. Emma was well known for her Batter Up spell, in which, every Monday night, one selected bachelor received the name of his soul mate in the cake batter she whipped up.

Yep. Cake batter, and Emma was damn good at casting that spell. She’d been doing it for years and even predicted that his brother and Bridget would end up together. Sure enough, they eloped in Las Vegas two months later and celebrated their one-year anniversary last summer.

He zipped his coat to his chin and jogged across the street. At first, his new gift was kind of cool. Like he actually had a super power. Certainly, it added some zip to his daily routine, which had been rather mundane if he didn’t count the time last August when he’d assisted in putting out a cottage fire on Buttermilk Lake. Then again, he only held the water hose, barely stepping away from the fire truck.

His life was definitely turned upside down when Josh convinced Emma into letting him and Adam hold a second Batter Up night each Thursday for the town’s single ladies. Emma wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but Josh pointed out that if they doubled the weekly matchmaking that meant more couples who would, no doubt, hire her and his sister, Abby, to cater weddings. That would mean more revenue for Taste the Magic catering that Abby ran with Emma’s help.

He picked up his steps, passing the vacant space next to the fire station straight for the Majestic Theater. He really should have practiced discreetly with Emma first. Once word spread throughout town that he’d been given the blue mixing spoon’s power, single women came to the bakery in droves.

So far, he’d attempted three spells. The first was on Wendy Prewitt who pretty much laughed in his face, announcing that her drunken one-night stand with gym trainer Tony Morreti had been a colossal mistake and she wasn’t going to spend her life with someone who had pet names for his biceps and triceps. She wasn’t off the mark there. His buddy did flex anytime he saw his reflection.

The second attempt was on Annie Parker and that outcome had caused dead silence in the bakery because Scott Anderson showed up in her batter, and well, he was already engaged to her sister, Claire.

Strike that. Was engaged. Neither of the ladies had been amused, and the word now tangling through the small-town grapevine was Annie and Scott may have been sneaking around behind Claire’s back. So, really, it was still up in the air whether he’d gotten the second prediction wrong, but outing cheating fiancés wasn’t really what Adam wanted to be known for.

The last attempt that happened twenty minutes ago was one hundred percent wrong. He was not Pauline Maycock’s soul mate.

And that’s why he needed to find a woman to kiss and fast.

He pulled on the theater’s handle.Damn.The door was locked and there was no sign of the owner inside. He banged on it, blowing out a cold breath. “Come on, Caity Bug, open up.”

His pal Caitlin Reynolds—now Stevens—was always good for a fake lip-lock. Although, that was before she had triplets with Josh and then married him, in that order. Slapping his lips on his best friend’s wife probably wasn’t going to happen.

Glancing down the street, he could see a pack of women headed his way.Crap.Theyreallywere coming after him.

He started to cross the street to the Buttermilk Tavern but did a quick one eighty. Since he was a frequent patron, that was probably the first place they’d check.

He turned to the right and caught a glimpse of his neighbor Bethany Wilson locking up the Christmas Corner, her family’s holiday ornament and decorations shop.

Bingo.He’d known Bethany for years. She would definitely take one for the team. He had moved into the one-story cottage next to hers over the summer. They’d been classmates in high school, and now that they were neighbors, they’d shared a few six-packs and lots of laughs on his porch. Sometimes that led to watching a movie at his house or hers.

He jogged over. “Evening, Lady Beth.”

“Hey, Adam.” Bethany wrapped her soft lavender scarf around her neck and buttoned her ivory-white coat. “What brings you in this direction this late at night?”

“Just taking a stroll.” He brushed some snowflakes off his jacket and glanced behind his shoulder. Pauline and her crazy posse would be here any minute. “Closing shop?”

“Yes, I am, and after the day I had, I’m ready to kick up my heels with a bottle of wine. Holiday shoppers can be so grumpy if they can’t find the perfect last-minute gift, like it’s my fault that they waited a week until Christmas.”

Put him on the list of procrastinators. He hadn’t even started his Christmas shopping. “Don’t you have any help?”

“Not this year. It’s just me while my parents continue to soak up the sun,” Bethany said, and tugged on the store door, checking to make sure it was locked.

“I forgot they were in the Bahamas.”

“Three full weeks. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be stirring your blue mixing spoon right about now?” she asked with a hint of amusement. Bethany had been at the Sugar Spoon when Mary had given her beyond-the-grave instructions to Josh to hand over the blue spoon to him.

The two of them had rehashed it several times while watching the sun set over Buttermilk Lake. He could talk a good game around Josh, Emma, and Abby, insisting spells and ghosts didn’t spook him, but the fact was, they kind of did. Bethany was a neutral, non-magical person he could talk to. She was also good at steering the conversation away from magic when they’d exhausted it. Their porch talk always turned to his volunteer firefighting or her freelance photography before he invited her inside to watch TV with him—an invitation she always accepted.

He reached for her gloved hands. “I don’t have a lot of time to explain. Quick. Wrap your arms around me.”

“What?” She yanked free and played with her lavender gloves, adjusting one and then the other. Her eyelids lowered, full of suspicion. “Have you been drinking?”

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