The Cupid Conundrum: Burgundy Hart, #1

Chapter One

Abreak-up with her girlfriend was not how Burgundy Jane Hart wanted to start her Saturday. Between the teenagers loitering on the front steps of the library before she even opened the front door and this morning’s potion gone wrong, she was already so done with her day, and it wasn’t even nine in the morning.

Her lips pulled back in a grimace that tried to be something close to a fake smile and failed spectacularly. The last person she wanted to somehow see the break-up text she’d just received from her now-ex-girlfriend was approaching the circulation desk to start her day – the nosy library assistant, Lynn. Or, as Burgundy thought of her, Evil-Lyn, Skeletor’s token female henchman. Except this Lynn was too short and matronly to wear a form-fitting bodysuit and the very idea made Burgundy roll her eyes.

Lynn was always eager for gossip, so before the woman even settled in at the desk next to her, Burgundy stood, muttered, I forgot breakfast. I’ll only be a minute, and fled. She’d had hangry episodes on several occasions. In fact, she had a reputation among the library assistants for hunger-fueled rants, so this wouldn’t tip Lynn off to her real reason for seeking some time to herself.

Though it wasn’t really time to herself Burgundy wanted, as much as the opportunity to rant to someone who would understand and care. The library wasn’t the place to do that and she pushed through the front door, eager to go to the one person she could always count on for sympathy.

The November breeze lifted her blue-tipped dark brown hair, her long strides practically forcing the cold air into her lungs. It was a short walk from Grove Street, down a small side street, to Main Street, but cold enough that she instantly regretted her hasty decision to leave without grabbing her coat. Shoving open the door of the diner was somewhat satisfying, but better still was the look on Charlotte's face. Burgundy could tell Charlotte already knew she was in pain. They’d been friends since preschool. No one could read Burgundy the way that Charlotte could.

Sure enough, Charlotte swept that chocolate gaze of hers down Burgundy's body and said, Why aren't you wearing a coat? You had one on when you came in for your morning coffee. What’s wrong?

Dang. Of course that’s the first thing she’d notice. No doubt the townsfolk had seen her scurrying down the street, coatless, on this forty-degree day. But she had an excuse, one she held up for Charlotte to see.

The diner owner’s eyes went wide. Oh no, she whispered. Did Jenna seriously break up with you?

Yup, a minute ago and by text. Burgundy shook the phone in front of her friend’s face. Can you believe this? I give her an entire year of my life and this is what I get in return! A stupid text message that says ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ What the hell does that even mean? And who dumps someone on a Saturday morning after not seeing each other for a week?

Has she been avoiding you? Charlotte asked.

I don’t think so. Burgundy shrugged and glared at the phone screen, which had faded to black, along with her mood. I mean, we haven’t been together since a week ago Friday, but she didn’t give any indication that she was thinking about breaking up with me. The distance hasn’t been an issue, either, since she comes down here all the time. I don’t know what happened.

Charlotte winced and Burgundy could feel her trying to shift the mood, to soothe her. But she waved her friend off. As much as she appreciated Charlotte’s attempts, it was a waste of her power as a medicine woman.

Thanks for trying, but you know I’m immune to your effects. You can thank my witchy genes for that.

Still... Charlotte folded her arms and leaned over the counter. How about a nice chocolate chip muffin? They're fresh out of the oven, and I have a pot of coffee ready to go. Maybe that will help you think things through and figure out what to do next.

If there was one thing Burgundy appreciated about Charlotte, it was her willingness to indulge her addictions to coffee and chocolate. Never mind that Burgundy was a walking lady cliché – she owned it proudly.

She didn't even need to answer. Charlotte turned away and bustled around behind the counter. Within moments, she handed Burgundy a bag and a lidded Styrofoam cup. It’s on the house for my favorite witch. I mean, seriously, who breaks up with someone by text? That’s bullshit.

Hearing her mild-mannered friend curse made Burgundy finally break into a real smile, and as amusement bubbled up inside her chest, she leaned over to kiss Charlotte on the cheek.

You really don’t have to do that. Despite her polite protest, Burgundy clutched the bag and cup gratefully. It was nice to have a friend show concern for her, to understand the gravity of the situation. If even Charlotte, who was forgiving to a fault, decreed that the break-up was bullshit, then it was.

We’ve been friends forever. You know you can come to me anytime. Charlotte's deep, brown eyes were the kind of gaze a person could trust. It was part of her Native American beauty. Nothing like Jenna’s pale blue eyes or platinum blonde hair, which gave her the feel of a cold, hard diamond. No, Burgundy could get lost in the diner owner’s eyes and never want to find her way out.

Before Burgundy could fall further into her thoughts, Charlotte looked away, ending the moment. A few blinks restored her equilibrium and Burgundy waved with the brown paper bag. Thank you for the muffin and coffee. You are a paragon among women. I’ll save the coffee to warm me up when I get back to the library.

Charlotte returned the wave and then disappeared into the kitchen. As much as Burgundy could use a longer gripe session, there were people waiting for their breakfasts, regulars who didn’t need to overhear more than they might have already heard. She turned and hurried back to the library.

Today was already the worst day ever and she didn't relish the idea of spending a miserable seven hours with nosy Lynn. So when she walked through the front door, she asked Lynn to cover the upstairs desk and trotted downstairs to lose herself in the tedium of cataloging new titles. It was the one place she could hide from the library assistant, who was sure to remark on her sullen demeanor or prod to see if Burgundy and Jenna had plans for the weekend.

Burgundy hated Lynn’s need to know everything. She supposed it was an inherent trait because Lynn was a cat shifter and couldn’t help herself. Lynn represented all the worst things people thought of felines, except maybe the desire to trip humans as many times as it took to kill them. And even that was questionable. Regardless, Burgundy was too immersed in her own despair to deal with her. Especially now that her weekend plans consisted of:

Stuffing her face with food (especially ice cream directly from the carton)

Watching chick flicks

Questioning her life choices

Wondering if Jenna was already hooking up with a rebound

Wallowing in abject misery

The cataloging went slowly, especially when the children's librarian, Sylvia, went home sick. That left Burgundy to cover the desk downstairs, a task she didn't exactly relish. She lacked the knack Sylvia had for dealing with children. Not that Burgundy minded them, but she’d never gone out of her way to be a friend to little kids. Even as a teenager, she hadn’t babysat for extra income. As far as she was concerned, kids were cutest at a distance and, preferably, under the supervision of their own parents.

The upside of being in the children’s room was that it kept her isolated from most of the regular patrons who came in upstairs. Considering the fact that gossip was a favorite pastime of not just Lynn, but many of the townsfolk, some time out of sight wasn't such a bad thing. Especially since they’d probably want to know why Jenna dumped her, once word got around town. And it would definitely get around.

So Burgundy took what solace she could in her work until Martha Humphries blew in looking frazzled, her mouth twisted in a grim frown and several strands of her snow white hair flying free of its usual braid, framing her face with delicate wisps. I tell you, Burgundy Jane Hart, this town is going to the dogs, Martha announced.

Burgundy couldn’t decide if the statement was literal or figurative, so she took the pun approach. Especially with all the canine shifters we have here.

The humor seemed lost on Martha, because the older woman wagged a finger at her and said, Exactly. Take Chief Brandon, for instance.

Burgundy hoped distaste didn’t show on her face as she said, I’d rather not take him anywhere.

Well, me neither. Martha huffed and sat in a child-sized chair next to her. She set her enormous tote bag on the floor next to it. Between Martha’s adult-sized body and massive bag next to the small chair, she looked like she’d drunk a potion left for Alice while lost in the rabbit hole. Several things peeked out of the bag, none of which Burgundy believed were entirely legal or non-magickal. She knew better than to ask, though. This was the middle of the U.S., where people were supposed speak plainly, while pretending not to pay any mind to what their neighbors were doing.

The door opened again, this time admitting two teenagers who slouched their way past Burgundy and up the stairs. They were the same two boys who tended who loiter on the front steps, smoking and spitting on the sidewalk. Burgundy toyed with the idea of casting a spell on them. They’d look much better as toads. However, she’d promised her Aunt Iris she wouldn’t lift a finger in spellcasting while the older woman was away on her spiritual sabbatical. The boys might turn out completely wrong and Iris wasn’t here to clean up another of Burgundy’s magickal messes if instead of turning into toads, they ended up lampposts or something equally horrific. If Burgundy’s magick affected them at all.

As soon as the boys were out of earshot, Martha leaned toward her and continued in a conspiratorial tone. It’s nice to see kids coming here to read, but this town needs a place for them to hang out.

True, Burgundy agreed, not contradicting Martha. The teenagers didn’t actually read there. When they bothered to come inside, they used outlets to charge their cell phones, poked through the DVDs, rearranged shelves, and went back to hanging out on the front steps, even with repeated requests from the librarians and assistants not to do any of that. Heck, even after the director stepped in and told the kids they needed to respect the premises, they still hadn’t stopped treating it like a gathering place for their gang of bored adolescents. That and Lynn were the only things that irked Burgundy about her job. Most days, anyway.

Martha sucked in a breath and folded her hands over her middle. She wasn’t a heavy woman, per se, but she was at least six feet tall and thickly built. When Burgundy and Charlotte were little girls, back when Martha still had rich, dark waves of hair, they’d heard she was an Amazon warrior and looked up to her in awe. Martha’s presence wasn’t any less imposing now that her hair had gone white and Burgundy still admired her.

The memory of her childhood wonder at realizing there was a real, live Amazon in their town made Burgundy smile and she looked at the stack of books sitting next to her hands, trying to determine what to say next. Burgundy knew Martha deserved her respect.

Well, like I said, Martha said with a pout, I hope Chief Brandon figures out he’s barking up the wrong tree.

Burgundy couldn’t stop herself from laughing. It belted out, louder and sharper than she intended, and she smacked the desk. So much for respecting one’s elders.

Young lady, this is a library and, besides, it’s no laughing matter, the way he’s been sniffing around me since yesterday.

I’m sorry, Miss Martha, but your puns today–

They aren’t puns.

"He’s a dog shifter, though. I’m sorry, but you’re killing me here." Burgundy wiped tears of mirth off her face with the tips of her fingers and shook her head apologetically, even though she was still grinning. If one thing could get her mind of the break-up doldrums, it was this.

Martha did not seem mollified in the least. She pushed herself up out of the chair, picked up her tote, and glared at Burgundy. Well, then, don’t come to me when the same thing happens to you.

Burgundy gestured at the tall woman’s retreating back. What – some guy hitting on me? They know better than that by now.

Martha hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, turned, and narrowed her eyes. Honey, after living in this town for close to forty years, I thought the same thing, but apparently I thought wrong.

After Martha ambled up the stairs, Burgundy pursed her lips at her own reflection in the computer monitor. Chief Brandon coming on to Martha? Really? Even in a tiny town like Rock Grove – Pop. 6,317, their sign proclaimed – there were romantic options. And there was no way the chief, with his hangdog appearance and good ol’ boy ways, would ever want Martha. Ever.

Amazons represented the absolute opposite side of the coin. They were strong, confident, and proud of their womanhood. Chief Brandon having a thing for Martha was as unlikely as... as...

Burgundy looked at her round face, framed with the blue tips she used to think were so cool. Her wide blue eyes swam with tears that finally fell, rolling down her soft cheeks and along her delicate nose.

Chief Brandon having a thing for Martha was as unlikely as her ever finding another girlfriend in their rural Midwestern town. Even fleeing into the bathroom to blow her nose and splash water on her face could not put enough distance between her and the realization that she was doomed to be, not only a failed witch, but also the town’s token spinster librarian.

Another realization washed over her, colder than the water now dripping from her pale skin.

How the hell was she going to handle seeing Jenna again? There was no avoiding her. This was, after all, Jenna’s hometown as much as Burgundy’s. Even though Jenna lived and worked in Omaha, her family remained here. Seeing her was as inevitable as the sun rising. But seeing her without any prospect of hugging, kissing, or sharing the same bed with each other? How was she supposed to react when they encountered each other on the street downtown?

That question was the one that filled her with dread and uncertainty. If this was the way her Saturday was starting, next week didn’t look so hot. She had to figure out how to get through her first meaningful break-up before Jenna inevitably showed up in Rock Grove.

Chapter Two

Other than Charlotte’s commiseration and sweet offerings, and Martha’s accidental humor, the remainder of Burgundy’s day fell into two categories: bad and worse. Every time her phone beeped with a notification, she reached for it, hoping it was Jenna apologizing and offering to meet to work things out. When it wasn’t, she’d try to resume her work, only to have her mind drift to memories of their relationship.

Like their first October together, when they’d gone to the pumpkin patch and corn maze. Or their first Solstice, when snowfall dusted the entire town until Rock Grove looked like a picture-perfect snow globe scene, pristine flakes and bits of ice sparkling in the night. That night, she and Jenna had curled up in front of the Yule tree, snuggling and giggling like kids until Aunt Iris shooed them away. In the morning, they’d woken to find several gifts under the tree.

In the blissful throes of new love, Burgundy had given Jenna an expensive charm bracelet, engraved with both their names and the day they’d had their first date. Now the bracelet would be meaningless and thinking about it depressed her.

Each book moved from the in-processing stack to completion evoked other reminders of her relationship, until Burgundy could only stare at the clock and wait for it to hit closing time. As soon as she’d locked the doors behind her and said good night to Lynn and the other assistant, Burgundy fled down the steps and to her car. She jammed the key into the ignition and was grateful she’d left the radio on too loud that morning.

Classic rock music blasted her, drowning out her thoughts. This was a night for self-pity, as per her mental list of break-up tasks, so she drove straight to the one Chinese food place in town – a place that actually served an array of Asian foods, from Happy Family to teriyaki to bulgogi –  ordered dinner, and then hit up the Dairy Queen for a Blizzard. It wasn’t exactly the best time of year for ice cream, but screw it, she decided. Break-ups called for break-up food.

Burgundy navigated the two lane U.S. highway that brought her to her home on the outskirts of town and then turned onto a gravel road. There seemed to be more county-maintained gravel roads than state-run paved roads, but that suited her fine. The entire county west of Rock Grove remained ninety-nine percent agricultural. She worked in the one percent where the majority of the county’s residential, commercial, and industrial land use took place. And even that was small compared to the rest of the state.

Rock Grove had been her home-sweet-home since childhood and Burgundy was happy to stay there, for things never to change. Small town though it may be, the place was special for a number of reasons.

The front porch light was already on, the bulb emanating a soft, yellow glow to combat the coming darkness. In another month, it would be completely dark by the time Burgundy got home from the library.

When winter did come, the house itself would look as pretty as a picture, the Victorian architecture covered in snow while light shined out from every window. Burgundy liked that the house was eccentric and completely out of place among the farm-style houses in Rock Grove. But her grandparents, who’d built it sometime in the mid-1800s after leaving New England, had been among the first settlers and could do anything they damn well pleased.

Thinking of the coming months sobered her. She loved winter, but the thought of facing it alone and single sucked. As soon as she