Page 56 of Haunted Ever After

She very carefully swallowed her last bite of toast as a chill that had nothing to do with the AC made the hair on her arms stand on end. No, Sarah Hawkins wasn’t a grieving widow. From the looks of things, she was still a frightened one, a century after her husband had died.

“Okay.” Her voice was small in her own kitchen. “It’s okay, Sarah. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.” But it wasn’t that easy, was it? Trauma can linger, apparently even after death. She made a mental note to reschedule with Buster. The kitchen floor could wait a day or two.

Meanwhile, she had to get to work. She packed up her bag with her notes. Another day, another dead laptop. It was nice having Hallowed Grounds back as her own personal office space. It was even nicer to have Nick back in her life.

From the looks of things, he was just as happy to have her back in his life too. Was there a better sight in the morning than his smile when she walked through the door of his café? “Morning.”

He leaned across the counter and she stretched up on her toes to kiss that smile with her own.

But he frowned when she dropped back to her heels. “You taste like coffee.” He narrowed his eyes. “Did you drink outside coffee?”

“I had some in my kitchen this morning,” she said. “Is that a crime?”

“And now you want more coffee, I bet.”

“You know it.” Her usual back table was occupied, along with almost every other table in the place, so she made herself at home at the counter, taking the seat at the end near an outlet.

He clucked his tongue at her, turning to the espresso machine. “Too much caffeine. It’s bad for you.”

“It keeps me going,” she replied cheerfully, opening up her laptop. She half expected Nick to argue with her further, but by the time she logged in there was an iced hazelnut latte in front of her. She glanced up at Nick, who dropped her a wink and a half smile before turning to the next customer who’d come through the door.

The downside of sitting at the counter at Hallowed Grounds instead of her usual table in the back was that Nick was too close by. Too distracting. Cassie was getting zero work done. Sure, her document was open. She’d even made a correction or two on the draft of the press release for the granola company. But her mind wasn’t on it. Her mind was on Nick. The way he moved behind the counter with masculine grace, pivoting from the espresso machine to the pastry case. The way he greeted the regular customers by name and the tourists with a veneer of politeness.

In fact, that was the upside of watching Nick work. She had a front-row seat to a one-act improv play: Nick Versus the Tourists.

“Excuse me.” A dark-haired man called in Nick’s direction as though he were hailing a cab in Manhattan in the 1980s. When Nick didn’t respond right away (because he was handing a to-go cup across the counter to a woman with dark hair and darker eyeliner), the man said it again. He had the air of someone who didn’t like repeating himself, and looked like he’d probably invested too much in crypto.

If Nick was annoyed, he didn’t let it show. Too much. “Yeah, what’s up?” He wiped his hands on a towel before throwing it over his shoulder. “What can I get you? Something from the pastry case?”

“There’s a lot of carbs in here.” Mr. Crypto frowned at the pastry case as though it had offended him personally.

Nick nodded. “It’s a pastry case.”

The man sighed and shook his head, and Cassie noticed that his hair didn’t move a millimeter. Incredible. “Do you not have any protein options?”

“It’s a pastry case,” Nick repeated with exaggerated patience. “Not a lot of protein in pastry.”

“You don’t have egg bites? Avocado toast with an over-easy egg?”

Cassie pressed her lips together hard, picturing Nick making avocado toast. He probably didn’t even know—or care—what an egg bite was.

“Nope,” Nick said, a little too cheerfully. “You want protein? Here’s what you do.” He pointed out the door. “You go out of here, make a right. Walk all the way down and around the bend to the pier. There’s a little place there. Jimmy’s.”

Mr. Crypto’s face lit up. “And they have better options there? I mean, they have to, right? Look at this place.” He scoffed, as though laughing in the owner’s face was the key to getting good customer service.

“I don’t know about better,” Nick said. A smile started to break across his face, a slow progression. “But ask for Jimmy—he’ll be the one with no shoes on—and he’ll rent you a fishing pole. You can take it over to the pier, catch all the damn protein you want.”

Cassie couldn’t help it. A snort escaped her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. She wasn’t the only one. The conversation had attracted a little attention, and one older guy—had to be a local—all but guffawed in Mr. Crypto’s face, which had burned bright red as he turned on his heel and stalked out of the place.

“Not a great business model,” Cassie said to Nick after he left. “Don’t you want tourists coming back?”

Nick shrugged. “Not that guy.”

She snorted again and turned back to her work. She really should get this press release finished before lunch.

But life had other plans. No sooner had she woken her laptop back up than Sophie dropped onto the seat next to her at the front counter. “I was hoping I’d find you here.”

“She’s already taken the tour,” Nick admonished from the other side of the counter.

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