Free Kindling Flames: Granting Wishes (The Ancient Fire Series Book 5) by Julie Wetzel Page A

shelf yet.” Turning back to her light, she snuck little peeks at the man as she finished. He just stood there with the most astounded look on his face. She tried to take in as much as she could without really looking at him. He stood just shy of six feet and looked like he might work out, but the old Irish fishing sweater and jeans didn’t show off his physique very well. Overall, he was a rather handsome man. Now, if he would just stop staring at her, she might actually enjoy having him in the store. When she was finished, Cathren turned to look at him and pulled on a friendly expression. “It’s safe again.” When he didn’t move, she gathered up her tools to put them away.
    The man followed her as she took her supplies back over to the counter.
    She busied herself with putting stuff away, hoping the man would just get what he was looking for and go. He was starting to give her the creeps.
    “What’s your name?” the man asked. His voice was pleasant and warm with a bit of an accent that Cathren could spend hours listening to under other circumstances.
    “Cathren,” she informed him as she pulled on the smile she used for difficult customers.
    “Cathren.” The man repeated her name with a bit of a roll in the ‘r’. “Such a fitting name.” His eyes twinkled with merriment before getting serious. “Well, Cathren, my name is Patrick, and I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you caught me. Now what do you want?” Patrick leaned his elbow on the counter. The corner of his mouth turned up in amusement.
    “What?” Cathren asked, confused.
    Patrick pushed the sleeve of his sweater up and showed her his forearm. A bloody fingerprint stained his skin. “What do you want?” he asked again, holding the toned arm out for her to see.
    “I am so sorry.” Cathren gasped as she pulled out some paper towels from under the counter. Squirting some hand sanitizer on them, she wiped her blood off his arm. The blood had perfectly covered a small tattoo of a shamrock. It was an odd place to put the clover—seeing as he had no other tattoos—and she couldn’t have hit it more exactly if she tried.
    “It’s fine, lass.” The man pushed her worrying hands away and glanced at the tattoo on his arm. “Looks like you get three.” He looked back up at her. “Now, what do you want?”
    Cathren just shook her head, not understanding him. “What do you mean?”
    Patrick let out a resigned breath. “Traditionally, when you catch a leprechaun, they have to barter for their release.” A wry smirk slipped across his face. “And since I couldn’t stop the magic from settling, it looks like I’m going to be held to that tradition. It’s just turned into your lucky day. You get three wishes. Now, what do you want?”
    Cathren gave the good-looking man leaning on her counter a questioning look. Either this was the strangest pick-up line in the history of the world, or he was insane. God, she hoped he was hitting on her. “Nothing.” Cathren turned away from him and pulled out a box of tangled necklaces to work on. Maybe if she seemed busy, he would go away.
    Patrick stood up and walked around the counter to stand across from her. “There’s got to be something you want.” Picking up a tangle of chains, he started helping her loosen them.
    Shaking her head, she tried not to look at his delicate fingers freeing the links. Ignoring him was still the best option she had. They worked on in silence for a few minutes.
    “I can’t leave ‘til you make some kind of wish,” Patrick said softly.
    Cathren looked up into the man’s face. He didn’t seem insane. “Are you really a leprechaun?” She knew better than to encourage the mentally ill. Her mother had often warned her of this. As it was, her Irish grandmother suffered from mental delusions. The old woman was prone to rambling on about fairies and hill people. Leprechauns would have been right up her alley. Cathren touched the locket her grandmother had given