Page 6 of Whisker me Away
Kieran stared at the corrupted soil sample in the glass vial, wondering what cosmic joke had landed him in this position. Botanical consultant. Right. Because apparently fifteen years of helping Miriam tend the inn's prize-winning flower beds, learning greenhouse management from the Tansley brothers, and picking up magical plant theory from half the practitioners in town qualified him to investigate supernatural plant diseases.
"The cellular structure is completely disrupted," Freya said, peering through her grandmother's antique magnifying glass. She knelt beside him in what remained of the community garden, close enough that her scent of lilacs and determination made his tiger rumble with interest. September's crisp air carried the scent of dying leaves and the promise of frost, but all Kieran could focus on was the way her copper hair caught the autumn light. "Look at how the corruption spreads through the root system."
She reached across him to point at something in the sample, her fingers brushing against his forearm as she leaned in. Thecontact sent a jolt through his system, making his eyes flash with green and gold flecks as his tiger stirred.
Focus, Holt.
"I can see the damage," he said, forcing his attention back to the blackened plant matter. "What I don't understand is the pattern. It's too systematic to be natural decay."
"Exactly." Her face lit up with the kind of passion that made something uncomfortable shift in his chest. Her green eyes, flecked with gold that seemed to brighten when she got excited, sparkled with the kind of intensity that reminded him why he'd been drawn to her years ago. "This isn't a disease. It's magical interference designed to look like one."
Kieran bit back his immediate response. Watching her work, seeing the way her magic responded to her emotions and how her knowledge went far deeper than he'd given her credit for, was doing things to his protective instincts that he didn't want to examine.
"So we're back to deliberate sabotage," he said carefully.
"We never left it." Freya said with frustration he was starting to recognize. "I told you earlier that this felt targeted."
"And I told you we needed evidence before jumping to conclusions." He gestured at the sample, his tone carrying the kind of authority that made people sit up and pay attention. "This could still be accidental magic gone wrong. Maybe someone was experimenting and lost control."
"For three hours?" She sat back on her heels, green-gold eyes flashing with annoyance. "Someone maintained this level of magical precision for three hours, hitting specific plants in a deliberate pattern, and you think it was an accident?"
Kieran studied the way anger brought color to her cheeks and made her magic shimmer just beneath her skin. Even irritated, she was beautiful. Hell, especially irritated, all fire andconviction and stubbornness that made his tiger want to see how far he could push her.
Dangerous territory, Holt.
"I think," he said, standing to his full height and looking down at her with the kind of commanding presence that reminded everyone he was an apex predator, "that we should consider all possibilities before we start pointing fingers. Including the one where someone in your family had more enemies than you realize."
The words came out with enough alpha edge to make her magic recoil slightly, but her immediate defensiveness confirmed his suspicion that Freya Bloom lived in a bubble of small-town idealism. She honestly believed everyone loved her family as much as she did.
"My grandmother dedicated her life to helping this community," Freya said icily, rising to face him with more courage than most people showed when he used that tone. "She trained half the botanical practitioners in the Blue Ridge Mountains. The idea that someone would target our family out of spite is ridiculous."
"People hold grudges for all kinds of reasons." Kieran sealed the soil sample and labeled it with precise handwriting, his movements efficient and controlled. "Maybe she refused to help someone. Maybe she chose one student over another. Maybe someone thought your family had too much influence over Hollow Oak's magical ecosystem."
"You don't know anything about my grandmother."
"And you don't know anything about investigating magical crimes." The words slipped out, fueled by her obvious disdain for his methods and the way she kept looking at him like he was some kind of amateur playing at detective work. His eyes flashed with irritation. "Just because someone was nice to your face doesn't mean they didn't resent your family's power."
Freya's magic flared, and the grass around her feet suddenly sprouted wildflowers in shades of angry red and orange. She took a deep breath, visibly pulling her power back under control, and Kieran found himself impressed despite his irritation.
"I think we should focus on the evidence," she said with forced calm. "The corruption pattern, the timing, the specific plants targeted. Not your theories about my family's imaginary enemies."
Stubborn as hell.But watching her wrestle her magic into submission revealed a level of control he hadn't expected. Freya Bloom might be naive about human nature, but she wasn't the dabbling amateur he'd assumed.
"Fine," he said with finality that ended arguments. "Let's map the spread pattern. Maybe that'll tell us something useful."
They worked in tense silence through the cool autumn morning, Kieran taking measurements while Freya documented the condition of each affected plant. He tried to ignore the way she moved with unconscious grace, the way her canvas bag kept bumping against her hip, the way her passionate muttering about cellular destruction made him fascinated.
Professional distance. That's what this required. Just because fate had stuck him with Hollow Oak's most intriguing woman didn't mean he had to make things complicated.
"Kieran! Freya!"
Kieran looked up to see Rowan Ashford approaching with a wicker basket and the kind of hopeful smile that immediately set his teeth on edge. The other man was everything Kieran wasn't: steady, dependable, the kind of guy mothers approved of and women married. His trimmed chestnut hair was clean and neat, and his brown eyes held the patient devotion of someone who'd been quietly courting the same woman for months.
Also, apparently, the kind of guy who brought lunch to women while they worked.
"I thought you might be hungry," Rowan said, setting the basket down beside Freya with obvious familiarity. "Twyla packed extra sandwiches at the café."
"That's thoughtful," Freya said, but Kieran caught the slight hesitation in her voice. "Thank you."
