Wiccan Owen Rhys inherits a house outside a small town, where he hopes the solitude will help with his music. But a zealously religious neighbor is convinced he’s a devil worshiper, and her gossip causes the townspeople to view Owen with suspicion. A series of pranks ensues, including dead animals left on his porch, threatening the feral cats living on Owen’s property. Though a bit out of practice, Owen casts a spell to summon a protector -- someone to convince the town the gossip is false and prevent the pranks from escalating. He confidently waits for his champion to arrive. Marc Elias is the town’s animal control officer and veterinarian. He considers himself a rational man who trusts in science and most certainly does not believe in magic. So when he receives a complaint that Owen is bewitching and torturing cats, he dismisses it as her imagination but goes to investigate. Owen is certain Marc is the protector summoned by the spell. But Marc sees Owen’s altar and hears desperate howling, and he has to put aside any attraction he may feel towards the young Wiccan to do his job. Will a little magic be all it takes for both men to get what they want?

Just a Little Magic

Having wrestled his ethics back into line, he regretfully said, “Thank you for the offer, but I can’t accept money from you.”


“Why not? I mean, I know I can’t pay you a huge amount—I’m still sending money to my dad every month. But I’m paying two rents right now—the boarding house and the garage space. If I moved in here, it might cost me less, and I could pass those savings on to you.”


Owen’s eyes widened in surprise. He’d certainly misread the situation. “You want to rent the house?”


“Well, not the whole house. How about the garage to start with? I could pay you to store my car for the winter. And then, if you think it would be okay, I could rent that back bedroom once the cats are moved out. I have to tell you, I’m so tired of eating at the diner, I’d just about kill to have access to a kitchen again. And I’m not a bad cook—my brothers and I always pitched in for family dinners.”


The wistful look on Marc’s face struck a chord in Owen.


Chapter 23