Page 41 of Lost in the Moonlight

I’d just put the key in the lock of the gallery door when the gray sedan buzzed by behind me. I held my breath, but when it continued down Main Street, heading out of town, I let it out again.

It was nothing. Not the strange man from the other day and certainly not Felicity, who was obviously in Los Angeles since she’d cornered my sister. I seriously doubted she’d hire anotherPI after the Secret Service had shown up at her door to hand-deliver the restraining order. Felicity was manipulative, and her emotions swung wildly, but she wasn’t stupid. She wouldn’t come after me again. She had no desire to end up in prison instead of on a movie set.

My gaze landed on The Tea Spot’s bright sign welcoming its early morning customers. Through the windows, I could see a crowd had already gathered, and another group of college students hurried down the sidewalk toward the café. Were they all going to sample Willow’s desserts?

A surprising flare of jealousy rose up inside me.

I wanted my own damn sample. Not just of the treats she’d made but of her. I wanted to inhale that buttery, sugary scent of her all over again. To see the flush I’d imagined while we’d messaged back and forth last night in person.

When my phone had vibrated with a text the night before, I almost hadn’t answered it as my hands had been covered in paint, and my mind was busy pretending the ghost pacing in the corner hadn’t returned. But when the phone had buzzed again, Sienna had stomped over to my easel and hissed not to be an idiot and to answer the damn thing.

I wasn’t sure what had disturbed me the most—Sienna being there, all dark and moody, or the pure pleasure that had whipped through me when I’d seen the picture attached to Willow’s text. It had been a pretty row of petit fours decorated with flowers lined up on her kitchen island. What she probably hadn’t realized was that the photo had captured her as well. She’d appeared in the reflection of a mirror over their dining room table. When I’d zoomed in, I’d seen she had flour on her cheek and a smile that reached her eyes.

I’d ached to brush the flour off and let my touch linger over those raspberry-colored lips. Instead, I’d had to make do with the words she’d written instead.

WILLOW: Just so you can see you don’t have to worry. There are way too many of these to carry. I really will be driving to work.

I’d replied instantly.

ME: They look incredible. I can practically taste them from here. You should drive some over to me right now.

And I’d wanted her to. I’d wanted her to show up at the gallery so I could get another hit of all that sweetness.

WILLOW: Can’t leave. Too much still to do. Everything is at a critical spot.

I’d sent her a photo of my hands covered in paint.

ME: I’d come retrieve them myself, but I’m also at a critical spot. For the first time in months, I’ve got multiple projects going all because of you.

After several long minutes, she’d finally replied, downplaying her role as my current inspiration. Or maybe she really didn’t have a clue just how much she’d impacted me in the mere hours we’d known each other. Somehow, Sienna’s words about Willow being my person had encouraged the subconscious thoughts I’d already had, making me wonder just what possibilities existed for Willow and me. After all, if a ghosttold you something, even if it was just your own wants and dreams talking, shouldn’t you listen?

WILLOW: I’m sure it’s Cherry Bay inspiring you. It has a very magical vibe.

ME: It does. But that’s not the reason I’m painting.

My response had pushed her too far, and she hadn’t responded.

Now, with the lights streaming from The Tea Spot beckoning to me, I could acknowledge that the vibe of the town had been what brought me to Cherry Bay. It had stirred the creative well inside me, but it was Willow who’d truly sunk into my skin.

I ached to walk into the café, see the joy on her face, and pull her to me. While I could tell myself it was to ensure she was safe, which was certainly true, it was also because of the uncontrollable craving I’d been besieged with the moment our paths had crossed.

The intensity of those emotions, as well as the fact she kept pushing me away, made me hesitate. Made me think it might be best if I gave us at least the morning to recover before thrusting myself into her presence again. Otherwise, she might begin to think it wasn’t Poco, but me who was stalking her.

So, instead of storming into the café and demanding to see her, I locked myself in the gallery and threw myself into my art. The work seared through me just as my workout had that morning, proving I’d been away from both for far too long.

Part Two

The bait I’d laid on the dark web finally paid off, information streaming in from a new source.

But as I scrolled through picture after picture of the cherry blossom-filled town, my fury spiked and grew until it was all I could feel and taste and see.

I’d burn it to the ground.

There’d be no fairy-tale ending. No happily ever after. No hero to save the day.

The Reaper would arrive instead, offering only punishment and penance.

Bringing Hell.

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