Page 12 of Midnight Masquerade

He growls at me.

Ms. Viola cackles again. "Hand me that bucket over there, will you, boy?" She nods at a bucket sitting on the railing.

Drake pushes away from the column and grabs it before glancing down at it. "Jesus, Viola. Have you been giving this shit out to trick-or-treaters?"

"Are you daft, boy? The kids get the candy. This is for their parents." She pauses, a tiny smile curving her lips up. "And for big kids who never grew out of trick or treating. Give me the bucket already, and stop testing my patience."

He hands it to her, shaking his head.

I watch, dying to know what's inside, as she fishes around and then pulls out two tiny bottles of alcohol.

"You think you're the first who decided to go trick or treating at your age, Drake Whitlock?" she asks, holding the bottles out to him. "Pah. In this town, it ought to be a tradition by now."

I bite my lip, fighting a smile as he takes the alcohol from her, slipping it into his back pocket.

"Get you some candy, too," she orders him. "And you better not drink that if you're driving that sweet girl around tonight. I may be old, but I'm not too old to stick my foot up your a—"

"I won't drink and drive," Drake rushes to say, cutting her off as he grabs a handful of candy, shoving it into the bag. "Don't stay out here too long. It's getting cold."

"You worry about your damn self, boy. How about that?"

"Yes, ma'am," Drake agrees, practically dragging me down the steps as I laugh like a maniac.

"It was great to meet you, Ms. Viola!" I shout after us.

"Come back and visit anytime, sweet girl! Leave him at home next time, though, will you? He's too bossy."

"Absolutely!" I call.

"I will spank your gorgeous ass if you start hanging out around here," Drake growls, his lips against my ear. "That old lady is a menace."

"You're only saying that because she likes me more than she likes you." I beam up at him, still giggling. "Why doesn't she like you?"

"She treats everyone around here the same way," he mutters. "She doesn't have any family, so the whole town helps keep an eye on her. But as far as she's concerned, we're all still little kids running through her flower beds. She gives us all hell."

"You like her." I beam up at him, still giggling.

He holds his thumb and forefinger an inch apart, a tiny smile dancing at his lips. "I'd love to know where the hell she got a bucket full of alcohol."

"I hope I'm as cool as her when I'm her age," I whisper.

"Baby, if you're anything like her when you're her age, God help us all," he mutters.

I huff, which only makes him smile.

"Get your gorgeous ass in the truck, Madeline."

"What? No. We aren't done trick or treating. You heard what she said. I bet there are other houses prepared for grown trick-or-treaters." I try—and fail—to wiggle my brows at him. "We might score more alcohol."

"Yeah, we're done. You got alcohol and candy." He tips my head back, brushing his lips against mine in a hard kiss. "Now, I'm taking you somewhere."

"To your basement?"

"Nope. Somewhere better."

"You know how ominous that sounds, right?" I ask as he hauls the passenger side of the truck open. "Drake! You know that sounds ominous, right?"

He ignores me. The big jerk.

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