Stirring Up Trouble: A Warlocks MacGregor Novella Read Free Page B

thought about often.
    “Hi, I’m Donna. It’s not like I have a furry fetish, but here’s a random get-to-know-me fact. I used to vividly dream I was a dog.” She sighed heavily as she grumbled to herself. “At least I didn’t tell him about the flying insect dreams. Or my imaginary friend teaching me how to stick fight, and subsequently being rushed to the hospital to be psychologically evaluated.”
    Though really, what had her aging parents expected? She was an only child living on a farm in the middle of Nowhere, Iowa. She’d been a surprise pregnancy to a couple in their forties. Now her mother would have been one to bring baked goods to the new neighbors. That woman knew how to cook. Unfortunately, Donna had been too much of a tomboy to pay attention.
    The jacket she wore wasn’t meant for such cold temperatures. Donna hugged her arms over her chest and tucked her head down to continue the trek home. What was happening to her? She could recall every instance of going to the grocery store, reading recipes on her phone, staying up all night baking, putting the food items into cute little baskets to take up the hill. She had been doing it sporadically since late October, but she couldn’t recall why she did it. Normally, when new people moved into town, she just sent a photography coupon out with the local welcome wagon lady and called it good.
    Glancing up, she found a pretty woman staring at her from across the street. Brownish blonde waist-length hair blew in the breeze. Donna blinked and jumped back from the splashing puddle as a car zoomed past. When she again looked, the woman was gone. She searched up and down the now empty street before continuing home.
    “Maybe my imaginary friend is all grown up and coming back to say hi. I should have her hit me over the head with the stick again, knock some sense into me.”
    Her house was small, nestled between the Johnstons and Mr. Reyer. It had a decent yard and a small porch. Her sidewalk was cleared of snow, which meant Mrs. Johnston had taken pity on her again and made Mr. Johnston get out his snow shovel.
    The yellow siding and white trim guarded the sanctuary inside. This was her life, the piece she’d carved out for herself. She wasn’t rich. She wasn’t famous. Donna simply was. She wanted nothing to do with the new town nobles living above them. So it made no sense why she’d try to make friends with them.
    Any farm-girl dreams she’d had of becoming spectacular had long faded. She’d found with adulthood that she really wasn’t suited for photographing the Amazon jungle, or trekking through the wilds to discover isolated tribes. Instead, she traveled in books and photographed children and weddings. She had no desire for fame and fortune. People like the MacGregors lived in the spotlight. The rich always did. Donna liked to live behind the camera flash. She liked quiet. She liked normal.
    So then why was she suddenly trying to be Suzie Homemaker for the new Scottish neighbors living as local celebrities in the mansion on the hill?
    Donna opened her front door. It wasn’t locked. Apparently, Baker Donna hadn’t felt the need for personal security.
    She closed the door and locked it before kicking off her wet shoes and dropping her gloves and hat on the floor. She then trudged toward her bedroom to get out of her wet clothes. At least her home was warm, even if it did smell of whatever painful concoction had come out of her oven.
    “ Comhstach.”
    Donna gasped at the soft whisper. She turned, ready to confront the man standing in her home. “Who’s there?”
    She reached for her pocket. Fucking wonderful. Neighborly Donna didn’t believe in carrying her cell phone.
    She held still for a long moment, listening to the silence. Nervously, she made her way down the hall. She pushed open a creaky door and switched on the bathroom light. No one was there. Next, she tried the extra bedroom that had been turned into her office. The computer monitors