The Contestant Flies Off the Handle: Moonchuckle Bay Romantic Comedy #7 Page 9

  The band started playing and Nat asked if she’d like to dance. He spun her around the dance floor a few times through two songs, then led her back to her plate of chocolate.

  A moment later, Isaac approached. “Would you like to dance, Cara?”

  Nat shook his head.

  She paused, but then said, “Sure. Please excuse me, Nat.”

  “I’ll go visit with the vampires.”

  Isaac spun her around — and it was magical being in his arms. Just like on the cruise. What was there about this man that touched her on such a deep level?

  A slow song played, and she looked up into his eyes while he held her close. “I’m so glad you came to Moonchuckle Bay. After your family spelled you, I thought I’d never find you.”

  She felt a niggle of guilt for not having told him the truth that it was she who had cast the spell.

  He pulled her close and she melted against him. She wished they could have that week on the cruise forever, instead of having real life intrude. She’d been so young and had so many false expectations.

  The song ended and they stood on the dance floor waiting for the next to begin.

  He took her hand and kissed it — like he’d done on the cruise five years before. He was weaving his magic on her again — and she was falling for him all over again. But was that wise?

  “Cara, I do feel the lifemate buzz around you.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” She wagged a finger at him.

  “What?”

  “Sure and don't give me that lifemate buzz talk again, Isaac Murphy.”

  “But it’s true.”

  “I don’t believe it. Not at all.” She pulled her hand back from his, anger rising within her. “You caught me with that lie once before, but it won’t work a second time.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “And here I thought you’d matured since the cruise.”

  “You thought I was immature before?”

  “No, I think you’re immature now. I just thought you were a party girl then.”

  “What did you say?”

  Isaac’s eyes widened. “I meant—”

  “I think I know what you meant. You thought I was a party girl? Why would you think that?”

  “Well, you were very young, and you seemed to be partying on the cruise,” he said lamely.

  “With my family? I was having fun, you idiot.”

  People around them gasped.

  “But you didn’t seem to grasp the significance of my telling you I felt the lifemate buzz with you.”

  More gasps.

  She narrowed her eyes. “The significance was that it’s a great pick-up line. Tell a girl she’s so special that she’s your lifemate, and she’ll give you a few kisses and hugs.”

  “That’s not what it was about.” His voice rose in anger.

  “Then why did you reject me at the end of the week?” She put her hands on her hips. “You told me you didn't want to see me anymore.”

  “No, I didn’t. I told you I thought we needed to spend time apart.”

  “What’s the difference? If you wanted to be apart from me, you didn’t want to see me.”

  “No, Cara, let me explain—”

  But her anger was too hot. All of the hurt and anger of the last three years came boiling to the surface. “And I think it’s great advice now, too. I think it’s a good thing for us to spend time apart now too. So keep away from me.”

  She stormed off.

  He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Wait, Cara.”

  Coldly, and with eyes blazing, she said, “Take your hands off me.”

  Instantly, he released her.

  “Are you knowing that ‘twas myself who cast the spell so you couldn’t find me before?”

  He looked shocked — and hurt.

  She stalked off.

  What a slap in her face. He thought she hadn’t grown up? Well, he could think again.

  How could Isaac have ever thought Cara was his lifemate? His buzz was obviously malfunctioning.

  Anger flowed through his veins. He drove his car from the Wildwood Hotel up to Town Square, a trip of about four whole minutes. He screeched into a parking spot and jumped out, and stormed across the park.

  Cara wasn’t just immature — she was vindictive!

  He crossed the street and pushed open the doors of Fangs — the bar half of the building.

  He nodded at Stanley MacGyver, the werebear who owned and managed the place with his brother, and stood behind the bar tonight.

  “Haven’t seen you in here for quite a while.” Stanley nodded his shaggy head. “What’ll you have, Murphy?”

  “Bud Bite,” Isaac answered, sitting at the bar.

  Stanley slammed one down and shot it over to him.

  “Thanks.”

  Herb Tobolowsky, a little short guy who managed Dorian Gray Photography, sat two stools over. He lifted his drink and said, “Evening, Isaac.”

  “Evening, Herb.”

  “I heard you got into some sort of tiff over at the pageant. What’s that about?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Isaac said, tossing some bills on the counter and climbing off. This hadn’t been a good idea. He didn’t need a drink to dull his emotions. He still had his bottle of potion waiting for him at home.

  It was about time to pull it back out and forget Miss Ireland ever existed.

  That night, Cara told Mariana the entire story. Her friend let her cry on her shoulder and hugged her and called Isaac a jerk with her.

  Finally, Mariana asked, “Is there any truth in what he said? Could you have been immature at nineteen?”

  That caught Cara by surprise. “Isn’t everybody at nineteen?”

  “I was.”

  She may have just lost him for good and for forever — and she had no one but herself to blame. “I was, of course I was.”

  “He is quite good looking. Maybe you ought to give him another chance.”

  She ached for Isaac, and realized she needed him to ground her.

  She had been immature at nineteen. “He was right to let me grow up. He could have said it better, but I’ve blown it.” At that minute, all she wanted to do was pack her clothes and go home, but she still had to try to win the pageant — she still had to get those runestones back for her family. Her pregnant friend tried to console her, but the tears just wouldn’t stop.

  A horrible thought hit her — what if she was still immature? Was it mature to hit him with itching spells, not once but twice? Was it mature to flirt wildly with a handsome vampire cowboy — just to make another man jealous?

  She didn’t like the answers.

  Mariana came in the room. “We have Miss Congeniality set up in the living room, all in an attempt to make you feel better. Laughter is the best medicine and all that.” Mariana hugged her. “Unless you’d rather go to the Woo-Woo Revue in town. They’re playing The Brain That Wouldn't Die.”

  “I’d rather laugh.”

  “Good.”

  In his kitchen, Isaac lifted the Happy Be potion bottle and stared at it. He didn’t want to feel this pain any more. He couldn’t lose his lifemate a second time. He already knew how horrible that pain was.

  His phone rang, so he set down the bottle and answered it. His brother, Michael.

  “Yes?”

  “I just had a feeling that you needed to talk tonight.”

  “Nope. You’re wrong.”

  “Right. I saw the fight, dude. Don’t lie to me.”

  Isaac sighed and leaned back against the counter. “What do you want, Michael?”

  “I want to impart a piece of my wisdom to my younger brother.”

  “Wisdom? You have wisdom?”

  “I do. And if you’re smart, you’ll listen.”

  “I’m smart.”

  “I think you’re absolutely right. Cara is the biggest witch ever.”

  “What?” Shocked at Michael’s statement, Isaac said, “I never said that.”

  “And you’re th
e biggest idiot ever. Do you suppose,” Michael asked, “that the reason she acted in such an insane manner is because she’s hurt and in love with you?”

  “Oh, come on.” Isaac didn’t want to hear it. He wanted support from his brother. “Just because you’re married now doesn’t mean you’re the expert on relationships.”

  “Perhaps not,” Michael said, “but it does give me more life experience than you have on how hurt women react.”

  “I apologized already. I told her that it was never my intention to hurt her.”

  “Think back to the cruise. Could you have handled it a little better then?”

  That made Isaac pause. Could he have handled it better? “I told her we needed some time apart from each other.”

  “And you don’t think a young woman — you said she was just nineteen at the time, right? — could interpret those words as not being interested in her any longer?”

  “I made it perfectly clear that I felt the lifemate buzz with her.”

  Suddenly, Dixie’s voice came over the line. “We’re on speaker phone so I’m hearing this ridiculous conversation. Here are my two cents’ worth of thoughts. Okay, you told her you felt the lifemate buzz and then she thought you rejected her, so obviously she’s going to think the buzz is a lie and vampires say it to get what they want out of a woman. A shipboard romance or more.”

  “But that’s not what I was doing. I really felt it.”

  “Are you always this dense?” Dixie asked. “Seriously. The woman is in love with you. She fell in love with you on the cruise — and she’s never gotten over you. If you don’t watch out, you’re going to blow it a second time. And then where will you be? Without your lifemate, that’s where. Just don’t go back on that stupid potion.”

  Surprised, Isaac said, “How did you know I’m not taking the potion right now?”

  “Duh, dude. You’re emotional.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Well, I do,” Dixie snapped. “You haven’t been living for the past few years. You’ve retreated into a shell of yourself. I like you better this way, all messy emotions and everything. That’s who you really are, Isaac. Quit hiding.”

  “I’m not hiding.”

  “If you take that potion, you are hiding.”

  He glanced at the potion bottle. “I always screw things up.”

  “Yes, you do. Stop doing that.” Dixie shook her head. “I can’t listen to this anymore. Go tell her you’re sorry, you stupid male. Good night.”

  There was silence over the line.

  Finally, Michael said, “Dixie’s pretty smart. You might want to listen to her.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. I’ve got to go now.”

  He hung up and stared at the potion bottle.

  Dixie was right. He hadn’t been living; he’d merely been existing, and he was tired of doing that. He was ready for a full unlife, whether that included Cara or not.

  So he lifted the bottle, uncorked it — and emptied the contents down the drain.

  Tossing the bottle in the trash, he knew what he was going to do.

  Starting first thing tomorrow morning, he was going to try to win Cara back. And this time, he wouldn’t blow it.

  The Oracle, Herself

  THANK GOODNESS FOR MAKEUP. And magic.

  Cara stared at herself in the mirror. Thirty minutes before, her eyes had been puffy and she’d looked horrid. Crying did that to her. But now, her skin looked bright, with not a hint of redness or puffiness. She looked elegant and for once actually felt pretty.

  Next to her at the long mirror, over the double sinks in their private bathrooms, Mariana studied herself, smoothed out an eyebrow, and nodded.

  They looked at each other and smiled. Mariana said, “You look much better. I’m sorry you had such a rough night. But you go out there today and show him what he’s missing. The loser.”

  Cara laughed and hugged Mariana — carefully, thinking of the “taffeta, darling” scene in Young Frankenstein they’d watched the night before. “Thank you for being my friend. I hope, if I don’t win today, that you do.”

  “I hope I win today, too.” Mariana smiled. “But if I don’t, I do hope you’re the winner.”

  They laughed. “It’s time,” Mariana said. “Have you practiced saying what everyone is going to say?”

  They paused and then, together, said, “Afterworld peace,” and laughed again.

  “I think I’ll wish for free broom parking, too,” Cara said.

  “You do that. I’m going to tell them April 25th is my favorite date.”

  “We should never have watched Miss Congeniality. It gave us far too many good ideas.”

  “And forget that stupid headline in the Carpe Noctem News this morning.”

  Cara rolled her eyes as she thought about the headline that had blazed across the front of the local paper. “The Contestant Flies Off the Handle? Not my best moment.”

  “Forget it. Seriously.”

  Fern the Ghost popped her head in. “There you are. Why aren’t you girls down in the main area?”

  Mariana said, “Because Cara had really red eyes and we wanted to get her makeup just right before appearing in public. We didn’t want to embarrass the pageant people or anything.”

  “Oh,” Fern said. “That’s a good idea. Come on down now, though. The question portion is about to begin.” She disappeared again.

  Cara grinned at Mariana. “You are so sneaky.”

  “I know. It helps when you live in Romania with a bunch of snarling werecats.”

  They made their way down to the smaller ballroom that was serving as their dressing room and staging area. The other three women waited there: Riley from Texas, Céline Dumont from France, and Gabriela Santos from Brazil. All beautiful enough and talented enough to win this competition.

  Riley smiled as she saw them and said, “Here’s to good luck to all of us, y’all.”

  “Only one of us can win,” Céline said. Her English was perfect, with a beautiful lilting French accent.

  “But we’ve all made it this far, so we are all winners.” Riley winked at Cara and Mariana as she paraphrased Miss Texas’s line in Miss Congeniality.

  Fern the Ghost appeared. “This way, ladies. Hold in your tummies. Straight backs. Smile big.”

  They followed her ghostly form to the back of the stage in the large ballroom where the audience was seated. Cara could hear the murmur of voices through the heavy curtains.

  All fifty contestants were handed a giant paper flower to carry, and they lined up in the order they’d rehearsed. A moment later, the music started and they began moving onto the stage.

  Cara carried her purple flower. When all forty-nine of the contestants were on stage — Augusta was permanently disqualified — the music’s beat picked up, and they began to dance in intricate patterns. She didn’t have to fake the smile that came from dancing.

  As they neared the end of the song, they each twirled, one by one, with their flower — which then magically turned real. Each huge flower floated up until there were forty-nine flowers, long stems together. A large ribbon floated up and wound around, tying in a bow, and then the whole bouquet settled itself into a huge vase at the back of the stage — and then magical fireworks went off.

  As the song ended, applause erupted. The crowd loved it.

  After the dance, as the non-finalists left the stage, Cara joined the other four finalists. There were five stools for them to sit on, and she chose the middle one. She didn’t want to be first, but she also didn’t want to be last.

  The MC’s outfit that day was a bright green. His body looked like a flower stem, with his face the flower. He greeted the audience and talked, but Cara barely paid attention.

  She’d caught sight of Isaac along the edge of the room, looking at her unhappily. She flicked her gaze away. She couldn’t look at him without starting to cry again, and how would that help anything?

  “First, Riley Garcia. Miss Texas, what would you most like to see
happen, and what can you do personally to bring it about?”

  Riley took the mic and smiled. “I’ve always wanted afterworld peace, y’all. If I win this pageant, I will have the platform to travel the world with this message: Just get along, y’all.”

  She stopped and Cara smiled.

  The audience clapped. The MC said, “Good job.”

  Cara almost laughed. They were all full of blarney on this issue. What they all wanted was the prize. Afterworld peace was gravy.

  Riley handed the mic to Céline.

  “Miss France?”

  Céline said, “I, too, wish for afterworld peace. There is too much fighting in the world today, between people of different skin colors, people of different species, humans and supernaturals. I wish to create a foundation that will promote peace throughout the world, starting with the littlest children and moving on to their parents and grandparents.”

  “And if you win the prize, you’ll have the money to start your foundation?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Now, Miss Ireland.”

  Céline handed the mic to Cara, whose hands were clammy with nerves. Her mind went blank. There were so many things she’d like to see happen in the world. She thought peace was too much to ask for, unrealistic, but nothing else came to mind, so she blurted out, “Afterworld peace.”

  “And what will you do to make that happen?” the MC prompted.

  Oh. Yeah. Suddenly her brain clicked back on. “I would begin to test spells that could be cast over ever-increasing areas of the world, spells to cause people to feel more peaceful toward each other. Then I would share that knowledge with the other witches of the world and create a PeaceSpell Foundation.”

  “Nice,” the MC said.

  Relieved, Cara forced herself to keep smiling as she passed the mic to Mariana, who said, “I wish for Afterworld Peace, and I want to work with the Supernatural Oversight Council in setting up a division specifically meant to build peace and harmony.”

  “Good. Aren’t these women amazing, folks?” After more applause, he continued. “And, last but not least, Miss Brazil.”

  Gabriela took the mic. Her accent was light and lyrical. “I also wish for afterworld peace. In my country, I would like to start small, working locally, and create peace in Brazil. I think this is something best handled on the local level. Even in our own pageant, there has been disharmony.”