Hoodoo Woman (Roxie Mathis Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

laundry magic I called “making my own detergent.” I brought a bar of homemade soap grated into tiny crumbles, a couple of other ingredients, and a five-gallon bucket into the kitchen. The crumbled soap went into a saucepan full of water on the stove to melt. That took a while so I cleaned the counters while I waited. I was halfway through wiping down the space for the coffee pot and accoutrements when someone knocked on the door.
    It was daylight so it wasn’t Daniel. I tensed, thinking it might be Blake. I lowered the temperature on the stove eye and went to the door with reluctance. Pausing with my hand on the knob, I squinted behind my glasses and took a peek into the auric field. A blend of yellows and oranges with a strong base of earthy green stood on the other side of the door. I knew that blend of colors and the man whose strong, generous heart created them.
    I flung the door open. “Ray Travis! What are you doing here?” I beamed at him.
    The big beefy deputy sheriff from my hometown filled the doorway with his outsized charm and still-boyish good looks. Light blue eyes crinkled along with the wide smile he gave me. “Hi, Roxie. May I come in?”
    “Of course you can!” I ushered him inside. He hugged me, tighter than he should have considering how long it had been since we’d dated, but I didn’t care. He felt solid and secure and warm as a blanket in front of a fire on a winter’s night. I returned the hug, feeling on safe ground for the first time in I couldn’t remember when. The sensation shocked me. I pushed it away as I stepped out of his arms. “What brings you to Nashville?”
    “It’s been a while since I’ve been to Bass Pro Shop. I could use a new tackle box.” He removed a brown leather bomber jacket, revealing a dark green long-sleeve button-down shirt over a pair of jeans. The shirt was a hair too tight across his biceps, the jeans snug on his trim waist. Dark wavy hair fell across his forehead, threaded with a bit of gray. Being a cop was so ingrained in his personality that even in civilian clothes he seemed to be in uniform. I was sure he had his badge and personal handgun on him or in his car.
    “Like you couldn’t get a tackle box at Lairds? Come on, Ray.” I took his jacket and waved for him to sit. “What gives?”
    “Can’t I come see an old friend?”
    Ray and I had dated before I left Blythe and moved to Nashville years ago. Last year a case took me home with great reluctance, for as short a time as physically possible. The trip involved visiting a cemetery so luckily the only person I ran into was the deputy sent to investigate a call about a suspicious vehicle at the church. Seeing my old boyfriend had been weird, especially having Blake there with me, but it had been good, too.
    “Want some coffee?” I started making some without waiting for an answer. Ray never turned down a cup of coffee.
    “Please, ma’am.” Instead of sitting on the couch he joined me in the kitchen. Tall and well-built, he took up a lot of room in the small space. Years ago I’d found him a calming presence. As the tension in my shoulders eased I realized that still held. He pointed at the pot on the stove. “What’s that, some special brew?”
    Some things had changed. Whereas once his voice would have held a teasing note, now there was curiosity. I said, “Yeah, it’s called laundry detergent.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Gone hippie, huh?”
    “Nah, it’s just cheaper and I know what goes in it.” I winked. “Witches are big do-it-yourselfers.”
    “I remember.” He leaned against the opposite counter, one big hand resting on the side of the sink. “How’s your business doing? The website looks good.”
    I’d mentioned it to him in a Christmas card, never expecting him to actually look at it. “Not bad. Mardi Gras was good. It takes a while, you know.”
    Ray took a folded slip of paper from his shirt pocket and held it out. “Think you could make me a candle or two? The