Page 8 of My Blind Date is a Ghost

This time, I have to chuckle at that. "You are a detective. I highly doubt you are boring."

"How...how did you know I was a detective?" he asks. "I think I forgot my manners and didn't introduce myself."

"I...Uhh... I've seen you around town," I say, which is nothing more than the truth.

"Have you? Hmm. I must have seen you around too then. You are familiar, but I just can't recall your name."

"Hopefully, I can tell you soon," I say. "I just want to speak with Beverly first. I don't feel..."

"What don't you feel?" he prods.

I shake my head. "I don't feel safe."

I can sense him tense up beside me. "Why don't you feel safe?"

"It's nothing."

"Please, ma'am, it's my job to keep the people of Mystic Cove safe. If you are frightened or feel under threat, I want you to believe that you can trust me."

"I do, Beckett," I say.

He glances at me, but he seems unable to respond to that. Maybe I shouldn't have used his given name, but I just wanted to try it, see how it felt rolling off my tongue. See how it felt in my ears. It was far more pleasant than I imagined.

He clears his throat as he pulls down a driveway to a cottage on the other side of Mystic Cove. He parks the car and gets out, coming around to my side to open the door. He offers me his hand and helps me stand.

"Thank you," I say.

"Of course," he replies.

We stand by the car for a moment as I wait for him to leave. Unfortunately, he doesn't.

"You don't need to walk with me," I finally say.

"I think I do," he says. "I'm going to need to make sure you get inside safely and speak to Beverly since you won't give me your name."

I'm a bit annoyed by this, and I think he can tell.

"Sorry," he says. "There are certain protocols I have to follow, even in a town like this, Especially in a town like this."

"Fine," I say, irritated. I really don't want to have to try and explain to Beverly who I am with Detective Dawson watching. But what can I do?

The air is biting outside the warmth of the car, so I rub my arms for warmth. I'm not sure what time it is, but it must be very early in the morning. I hope Beverly answers the door.

Her cottage is small, but she has a wide porch filled with potted plants and various signs and decorative items. The door has two half-windows, so I can see inside, where it is dark. I knock on the door quietly. Too quietly, I'm sure. I hear a cat growl from inside. I wait a moment and knock again, this time more loudly.

I see a light turn on and watch Beverly amble toward the door, pulling a warm-looking robe around her shoulders as she walks.

"Who is it?" she calls through the door, blinking. I'm at a loss for what to say. Will she even know who I am?

"It's Detective Dawson, Ms. Barnes," Beckett says over my shoulder. "I have a young woman here who says she knows you."

"What? Who is it?" she grumbles as she fumbles with the locks and pulls open the door. She blinks the sleep out of her eyes and peers at me. "Who are you?"

"It...it's me," I say, my voice cracking as my eyes fill with tears. Oh, my sweet Beverly! I was there when she was born. I've watched her grow up. I've seen her take over my shop and run it with care. So many times I've wanted to embrace her. And now that I can, she has no idea who I am.

"Me who?" she asks, her eyes focusing, narrowing. We stare at each other for another moment. Realization starts to cross her face. "I...know you," she says slowly.

"Yes, you do," I say, wiping the tears from my cheeks. "It's me. It's Cora."

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