Page 11 of Midnight Masquerade

Don't you dare fall in love with him, Madeline Dooley, I mentally coach myself. But part of me thinks it may already be too late for that. He's wriggling his way into my heart far too quickly.

How the hell am I supposed to get him out again?

He leans down to scoop up the bag I dropped and then laces our fingers together, gently peeling me off the side of his truck.

"You sure about this?" he asks, eyeing the front of the house like he thinks it might bite him.

"Positive," I say. I am absolutelynotpositive about this. But YOLO, right? I think that's the saying that means you should do crazy stuff while you have the chance because you could die any day. And it's Halloween in a town full of crazy Halloween-loving people, so that day could very well be today.

He exhales a breath, his face set in grim lines, and reluctantly leads me up the steep steps toward the house. I can't help but giggle.

"You look like you're marching toward the gallows."

"Uh, have you looked around, unicorn? There are body bags hanging in the fucking trees."

"Spiders, too," I mutter.

He chuckles, shooting me a look. "You going to tell me what you have against spiders?"

"You mean besides everything about their existence?"

"They're the most helpful insect."

"They aren't insects. They're arachnids. And they have eight legs, Drake. You don't need eight legs if you're doing God's work."

"So, they're devil spiders. Got it."

"Exactly!" I cry.

He throws his head back, his laughter echoing around us.

"Wondered when you two were going to stop dry humping against the truck and come on up here."

"Ahhh!" I scream, launching myself into Drake's arms as a raspy voice floats out of the dark.

"Jesus Christ, Viola," he growls, catching me as I basically climb his body. I'm pretty sure I use his dick as a stepping stone. My bad.

The raspy voice howls with laughter, and a light flickers on. I peer around Drake to see a frail old lady sitting in a rocking chair tucked into the far corner of the porch.

She has to be at least eighty, with curlers in her hair, wearing nothing but a nightgown, slippers, and a colorful blanket thrown over her lap. And she's laughing so hard that she's in danger of falling out of the chair.

"You scared the shit out of us," Drake mutters without heat, carrying me up the steps to meet her. "You could have told us you were out here."

"What? And ruin my fun? No thanks." The old lady, Viola, cackles. "I've been scaring trick-or-treaters all night." She tipsher head to the side, studying us. "You two are the strangest of the lot. A unicorn and an overgrown pain in the ass. Well, at least your costume fits you, boy."

I bury my face in his shoulder, my body shaking with laughter.

"We aren't trick-or-treaters," Drake says patiently, ignoring everything else she said.

"Yes, we are." I poke him in the chest, squirming for him to put me down before I turn to beam at Ms. Viola. "He's being grumpy about it, but you can ignore him. I do."

She cackles again. "Where'd you find this one, boy? I like her. She's got sense if she knows to ignore your surly ass."

Drake sighs heavily. "Madeline Dooley, meet Viola Brinkley. Viola, meet Madeline. Viola has lived here forever. Madeline just moved to town." He leans against a column on the porch.

"And you already snapped her up, huh?" Ms. Viola's hazel eyes gleam. "Good for you. It's about time you put that big ass brain of yours to use for something other than making money, boy." She peers at me. "He won you over, huh?"

"To be determined," I mumble, blushing. "I have to check his basement for bodies first."

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