Page 75 of Real Fake Hauntings

“I’ll send an itemized bill at the end of my employment.” He was definitely gloating now.

“What a waste. Bet you didn’t even drink it.”

“Would you have drunk it?”

“Of course not.”

“Good girl,” he said with approval, and why did that feel so good instead of horribly patronizing?

“What did he do after you left?”

“He didn’t run out the back to have a secret conversation on the phone during which he admitted his guilt and laid out his evil plans, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s too bad,” I said, disappointed. It was the least the man could’ve done, really. “What’s your read on him? Do you think he did it?”

“No.”

“You sound awfully sure for having gotten no answers.”

“Do I think he could’ve done it? Yes. But I’m guessing he knows a dozen ways of getting rid of a body. He has no connection to your shop, and he’s not the kind of man to use partners. Why leave the body at the shop? Your shop doesn’t encroach into his territory.”

“I suppose you’re right. Where are you now?”

“One street over, waiting to see if he makes a move.”

“But you said you don’t think he did it.”

“I’ve been proven wrong before.”

“Like when you thought I was a dark witch?” I joked.

“I’m still not convinced I wasn’t right,” he grumbled, “seeing as how I always end up doing what you ask of me.”

“Hey, now! You do that because you see the wisdom of my ways.”

A long silence filled with distorted background music was my answer. Hah. He could doubt all he wanted, but in his heart of hearts, he knew I was usually right.

“Say, Ian…” I trailed off, a lump of nerves forming in my throat.

“Yes, Hope?” he replied, a smooth velvety caress that left goosebumps in its wake.

I fought to gather my wits. “Do you believe in true mates?”

I wasn’t sure when I’d decided to end my internal misery and ask him outright, but now was as good a time as any since I’d never in a million years gather the courage to ask him in person.

“No.”

His answer had been too fast. Way too fast. I scowled at the wall. “Are you lying?”

“Yes.”

“Ian!”

“Hmm?”

He was going to make me work for it, wasn’t he? Fine. “Am I your mate?”

“No.”

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