Page 4 of Live Love Lasso

I give him a blank look. “PG?”

“Oh,” he says, a blush pinkening his cheeks. “We got quite a few nicknames for Pine Gulch. PG, the Gulch, we’re all Gulchers, of course. Nobody here ever says the full name. If you do we’ll know you’re a tourist. Well,”—he glances at my ruffled dress—“You might stand out a bit no matter what. Not that it’s a bad thing!”

“Ah.” I look past him, examining the mansion a little more closely. It’s surrounded by a black wrought iron fence, and a couple of black shutters hang haphazardly off the front. It’s not well cared for, that much is clear. Curious because, as far as I know, every other monster haven has a Keeper, sort of like a human mayor.

“I didn’t realize you don’t have a Keeper.” I give him a look, but he just shrugs.

“It’s fine ‘cause we’ve got Sheriff Rygold, and he does the job alright, when he’s not in stone form.”

Ah, a gargoyle then. Sleeping in stone form is how they rejuvenate their energy, although typically they don’t have to do it more than once a month or so.

The minotaur hops out of the truck and rounds the back to open my door. He dips his head, shaggy brown hair falling over pale blue eyes. “We’re here, miss. Glimmer Potions House is just there.”

The sign on the gray gothic building behind him reads “Auction House and Flea Market.” I wave at it. “That doesn’t say Glimmer.”

His lips curl into a shy smile. “Glimmer’s attached right there.”

When I look around him, a tall, skinny building with a simple outline of a potion bottle sits tucked into a nook beside the Auction House.

Well, that’s unexpectedly adorable, I suppose.

The minotaur grabs my bag from the back seat and pulls the handle up for me, placing it in my hand. “There you go, miss.” He runs a hand through his hair. He seems nervous. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around town.”

“Guess so,” is all I can manage as I take my boot box and fish a tip out of my wallet. He takes it, giving me a final tentative look before getting back in the truck and driving up the street. As he goes, I notice the residential area of downtown seems to start on the other side of the auction house. Rows of little cottages line the street as far as I can see. It’s…cute.

Then a giant tumbleweed appears from an alleyway and rolls awkwardly across the street. It's like a little drunk gnome tumbling home after a night out on the town.

I pull in a steadying breath, focusing on filling my lungs all the way. This is going to be fine. It’s all going to be fine.

Lifting my chin, determined to make a great first impression, I head for the door to my new workplace.

Here goes nothin’.

Lemon

When I step through the door to Glimmer, the scent of common potion ingredients swamps me. I breathe in a happy sigh at being assaulted with so many familiar, comforting smells. Sidrin dust, bone broth, bitter appleroot. My sense of smell is good enough to pick up half a dozen other scents—perks of being a vampire and thus built like a predator.

These smells are my happy place, and they bring me immediate comfort.

That’s quashed a moment later when a black-haired, black-winged pixie looks up from behind a glossy black desk. Two stories of shelves packed with books and potion bottles rise up behind her. My fingers itch to touch everything.

Although I know better, of course. One doesn’t simply waltz into a potions house and start picking up bottles.

“Hi there,” I chirp. “I’m Lemon Denton. I believe Letitia is expecting me?”

The pixie throws an exaggerated hand over her heart, dark brows lifting skyward in mock surprise. “Oh my. Lemon Denton? Well, well, aren’t we lucky to have potions royalty in our midst? Except, I guess you’re not really the best of the Dentons, if the rumors are true.”

She rolls her eyes and stands, disappearing through a door and leaving me in a cloud of shock and confusion. Doesn’t even bother to introduce herself.

Oh my gods. I thought Father quietly arranged this little trip, but if everyone at Glimmer knows what happened with Serafina’s potion…I am double-F fucked.

Nerves clang in my belly as my heartbeat rises into my throat. This isn’t supposed to be a disaster. This is supposed to be fine. But instead, it’s like being in front of a Potions 101 class with my pants down.

I grip my throat, squeezing and focusing on the thrum of my blood through my veins. It centers me, grounding me as I remember that what happened wasn’t entirely my fault, and I can come back from this. I’m Lemon Knox Denton, for fuck’s sake. I’ve been under a microscope my entire life. Vampire social circles can be a vicious place.

Thank fuck the pixie woman at the front isn’t my contact here. Plus, if I can survive the annual warehouse sale at Carney’s on Fifth, then I can survive a mean-ass secretary.

Moments later, a stunning female pixie with purple wings and blue hair emerges from the doorway. The first girl hovers behind her, glaring daggers at me.