The walk from her house to Hallowed Grounds was all but routine by now, from the cracks in the sidewalk to the shop displays and the white cartoon ghosts fluttering from the flagpoles. The sun had just started to dip low over the ocean, turning everything molten gold, and her sunglasses did little against the glare. Useless. But then she spotted Nick outside waiting for her, and she appreciated the camouflage the sunglasses provided.
He leaned against the lamppost outside Hallowed Grounds, his head turned away from her. His jeans were well-worn without being obnoxiously tight, and the sleeves of his blue dress shirt were pushed up his forearms. The evening sun threw russet-colored rays into his brown hair, which was pushed off his forehead and curled down to the back of his neck. Damn, golden hour looked good on this guy. Then again, she’d seen him in crappy fluorescent light earlier today, and he’d looked pretty nibbleable then.
Nick pushed off the lamppost when she approached. “Hey, you.” His voice was warm but not quite flirtatious. Yeah, definitely not a date. Cassie swallowed hard against sudden disappointment.
“Hi.” She gave him an unfortunately dorky wave. She’d been so busy ogling him as she walked up that she hadn’t even noticed the other tourists, but there were three other people—a white middle-aged married couple and a twentysomething guy with dark skin and a camera bag—milling around in front of the shop. They gave each other friendly, closed-lipped smiles; they were obviously here for the same reason, but not yet ready to engage in actual conversation with each other.
Thankfully Sophie chose that moment to round the corner, greeting everyone with a bright smile. Cassie’s return smile was involuntary. The phrase “cute as a button” was invented for Sophie. She couldn’t have been more than a little over five feet, her dark hair a riot of curls tamed by a red headband, and her big brown eyes framed by gold wire-rimmed glasses. Her face was round, her nose was small; she could have been a high school senior doing this for extra credit.
But when she addressed the crowd—was five people enough to be considered a crowd?—she was all authority. “Welcome, welcome! I’m so glad you all took the time to join me tonight! First I’m going to collect the fee: fifteen dollars each, please. Then we’ll get started! The tour runs about an hour, give or take, and we’ll be walking about a mile and a half in total. There are plenty of benches along the way if anyone needs to take a break, and I’m happy to tell more stories to pass the time if need be.”
While Sophie moved to the trio of tourists on the other side of the sidewalk, Nick leaned in toward Cassie. She caught a whiff of cinnamon; he must have been baking. Beneath that she smelled clean soap, a scent that reminded her of the ocean off her back balcony.
“You ready for this?” His voice was a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. She looked up into those illegally blue eyes, remembering way too late that she should probably answer his question.
“I think so.” She smoothed her hands nervously—they were already sweaty, thanks, Florida!—down the skirt of her sundress. Thank God for thin cotton; the night wasn’t overly hot, but humidity was eternal. “This isn’t going to be scary, is it?” She was very much not one for horror movies.
“Nah.” He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, looking up and down the street as though he were assessing the area. “Most of the ghosts around here are benign. Harmless, you know? The more dangerous ones are usually encouraged to move along.”
“Go to the light, or whatever?”
He nodded. “Or whatever.”
“Ri-ii-ii-ght.” Cassie drew the word out into at least four syllables. Looked like they were keeping up the facade that all of this wasn’t bullshit. But that made sense. The other folks here were tourists, paying customers. If he ever broke down and told her the truth—what had to be the truth—it certainly wouldn’t be in front of a bunch of tourists who were waiting to hear ghost stories.
“Let’s get started!” Sophie situated herself by the door to Hallowed Grounds and clapped her hands together once. Instantly, the disparate group of people milling around fell into place in front of her, resolving into her audience. Cassie was impressed.
“One of the reasons I have us meet here is because it’s the best place to start the tour. Which seems weird, right? It’s not even open. Hallowed Grounds is one of the longest-running businesses in Boneyard Key. It was founded in the 1930s and was originally a diner, but these days it’s more of a coffee shop and lunchtime spot. I usually like to start this tour by telling you the story of the former owner and how he still has a hand in his old business. But we have a special guest tonight. Nick, would you like to do the honors?”
Cassie turned to Nick, a grin spreading over her face. She had no idea he was part of this whole thing!
Nick looked just as surprised. “Uh.” He shifted from one foot to the other, looking uneasy. He shot Sophie a glare from under his eyebrows but she was unmoved, meeting his gaze with an easy smile. Finally he gusted out a sigh.
“Fine.” He gestured awkwardly to the darkened windows of the coffee shop. “Elmer Buchanan ran this place for years. Decades, even. His dad was actually the one who started the business. It was a diner in the thirties, like Sophie said. When Elmer came back from serving in World War Two, he got married, settled here, and ended up taking over the diner. I don’t know when dinner service stopped. Probably when he got older and was sick of staying up late. It was always a breakfast and lunch place when I was a kid.” This was not a rehearsed speech. Nick started and stopped, stammered at some points—a stark contrast to Sophie’s obviously well-rehearsed patter. Cassie wanted to squeeze his hand, take some of his obvious nervousness into herself to help him out. But that might be too much too soon, so she settled for sending a mental you’ve got this his way.
Sophie nodded. “Elmer took over the place, like Nick said, and it became his life. Especially after his wife died, sometime in the eighties, right, Nick?” She continued after Nick’s nod of agreement. “He was a gregarious guy, loved being in the center of town, knowing everything that was going on.”
“Not to mention everybody’s business.” Nick’s smile was less stiff now as he fell into conversation with Sophie. Cassie was impressed; Sophie was good at this. “Still does. I’ve been the fifth owner after Elmer. The other ones didn’t want to deal with his…uh…input.”
One of the other tourists—the middle-aged husband—snorted. “I know what you mean. My boss retired three years ago, but he still drops by the firm. Pretty sure he fully expects the place to have burned down without him around.” He shook his head. “Some people don’t know how to let go.”
“That’s it exactly.” The rest of Nick’s obvious nervousness fell away as he seized on the other guy’s words. While public speaking wasn’t his thing, conversation obviously was. “He texts me all the time. Gets testy with me if I so much as tinker with a recipe. It used to bug me at first. Like, leave me alone, man!” He grinned as the group chuckled. “But I get it. Hard to let go, like you said. So I let him complain, and just nod and smile. It’s my place now, and when it comes down to it, I do what I want.”
“Nick.” Sophie sounded amused. “You forgot to mention…”
“Oh. Yeah.” Nick glanced at the darkened windows again, let his gaze travel up to encompass the whole building. “Elmer died around Y2K. So, uh. Yeah. He’s been gone a while.”
A startled laugh exploded from Cassie’s throat before she could stop herself, which prompted answering chuckles from the trio of tourists. Nick and Sophie responded with tolerant smiles that made Cassie’s laughter fade as fast as it had come on. She had the unsettling feeling that neither of them was kidding.
Sophie took back the conversation. “I like to start with Elmer’s story because he’s a perfect example of the kind of spirit that hangs out here.” She started down the wide sidewalk, and the group fell in line behind her like obedient ducklings. “Ghosts aren’t always scary. Here in Boneyard Key, they’re a way of life. Part of the scenery.” She led them up the street, past a T-shirt shop. The sun had lowered farther in the sky, sending shadows across the street.
Cassie pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and fell into step with Nick, bringing up the rear of the small procession. “I didn’t realize you were part of the show,” she said sotto voce, out of earshot of the rest of the tour. “That was pretty cool.”
Nick snorted, shaking his head. “I can’t believe Sophie put me on the spot like that. We’re gonna have words later.” But a smile played around his lips—very full, kissable lips, Cassie found herself noticing—that belied his stern tone.
“You sure? You had that story all worked up and ready to go.” Come on, she wanted to say. I’m not one of the tourists here. She wanted him to be real with her, to treat her like a local. But she didn’t know how to break through. What was the password to unlock the real story?
“It’s not a story.” Nick’s brow furrowed as he cast her a sideways glance. His voice had dropped, giving them more privacy. “You still think this is all bullshit, huh?”