Page 21 of Minnie

And I’m not winning Minerva Montgomery. Or Minnie Alexander. Or whoever the chameleon she is. Not like this.

But I’ll find a way. And when I do, she’s walking down the aisle with me, even if I have to drag her kicking and screaming.

Chapter 11

Minnie

I don’t know why I even bother following not-Violet outside. Just like earlier when they’d shifted into Phil, my maybe-mate is long gone.

The fiery pink magic has dissipated, which means that wherever my mate’s gone, it’s far.

I share a look with a pigeon sitting on the ledge above Jewels Cafe. “He probably wasn’t my fated mate, anyway.”

The pigeon coos in agreement.

“But what if he was?” I add.

The pigeon doesn’t even dignify that with a response.

Does it really matter? My mate is gone. And unless they plan on shifting into someone else for attempt number three, I’ll never see them again. Unless…

I glance up at the pigeon and focus on my words. Formula M squashes any desire to flap my arms like wings, and I’m not even sure the bird understands me when I say, “Can you follow the woman who raced out of the cafe? I need to know who she really is.”

The pigeon takes off after not-Violet, so I guess that’s a yes. Or the bird didn’t hear me and I’ll never see my maybe-mate again. Knowing my luck, it’s definitely the latter.

I head back inside. Chase is behind the counter. “I called Nole, and he says Violet was fine when she went out for lunch. He’s going to check on her.”

Nole is Violet’s bear shifter mate and Wes’s brother. He’s at the cafe a lot, and he and Chase are constantly talking about books, so I’m not surprised he’d text him. I am surprised he hasn’t figured out it wasn’t really Violet.

“That was a chameleon shifter.”

Chase’s jaw drops. “An impostor?”

I shrug.

“Do you think she was scoping out the place?” Chase asks. “I bet she’s a burglar. Or a spy.”

He zones out, like all great authors do, while his mind races through various plots. At least that’s what I assume, since he gets that far-away look pretty often, and then his eyes glaze over.

But, for all I know, he’s picturing all the different ways he’s fucked Amber. Which is a mental image I want gone. Stat.

Chase refocuses on me, but Formula M keeps the blush off my cheeks and a bored look on my face. I start to join him behind the counter but his words stop me. “We couldn’t get the collar off Tiptoe.”

My heart sinks. I knew it was too easy. “Did Julian try to cut it off?”

My voice gets all dreamy when I say his name, and every part of me cringes.

Chase runs a hand through his hair. “We tried. It didn’t work. Thing is…”

He hesitates, but I have a feeling I know where he’s going with this. “Julian cast some sort of spell on the collar, didn’t he?”

I intend to sound annoyed. I sound all dreamy, like Julian’s wonky magic is the most glorious thing I’ve ever encountered—instead of an annoying inconvenience my mouse is paying for. Not that I can blame Julian. Of the two of us, I’m the one with the most inconvenient magic, considering he has to drag me on his romantic babymoon, and I just have a mouse with a collar.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” Chase lowers his voice. “Don’t tell Amber, but the reason we got Latte is because she’s been so worried about being a parent. We thought if we all took care of a puppy together, it would help with her self-confidence.”

Which sounds totally absurd to me. I cherish Tiptoe and Snow like they’re my kids. But caring for them and raising Natty are entirely different things. No diaper changes or midnight feedings or round the clock attention. Not to mention all the costs. Doctor’s visits, diapers, wipes, and formula when he was young, toys, new clothes and shoes, the occasional ruined library book, Summer Spritz potion when he won’t wear a sweater…

I’m stressed just thinking about it all, but end up rolling my eyes at Chase. “So Julian cast a spell on the collar?”