“That’s right. You must really hate your ex if you were willing to ruin Hogwash,” I say with an air of protection.
“I didn’t say I hate the people in it.”
“Give it time,” I murmur because right now I’m not too pleased with Molly, Besty, or Lexi for throwing me into this blaze.
He smirks. “But you like me.”
I back up, nearly falling into a chair with the stuffing missing and the springs exposed. “I do not.”
Maddock reaches for my hand, but I play keep-away.
He says, “You just don’t realize it yet.”
I huff, then echo what he said, “Definitely not.”
His eyes hold on me for a long moment. “Finish showing me around.”
Noplease? I’llshowhim. “Fine. We’ll go to the graveyard.”
“Cemetery,” he counters.
“Grave. Yard,” I practically growl.
He makes his voice airy like a ghost and says, “Cemetery.”
Graveyards are graveyards and pancakes are pancakes, and I could do without the newcomer to town. Because this one almost sends me up in flames.
Chapter 6
Kissing is Gross
Being around Honey is like walking into a rosebush, though her scent is closer to honeysuckle. And this property is anything but sweet. Vines and creeping plants slink and hang from the cypress and tupelo trees.
The air is thick and stagnant. Slime pools along the edges of the murky swamp. This is the kind of place where people disappear—whether because they’re eaten by an alligator or fall into a pit of quicksand, I’m not sure.
Dead leaves rustle from beyond a thick mat of greenery.
“Watch your step. We have cotton mouth snakes around here,” Honey says.
“We have rattlers out west. At least they have the decency to warn us.”
“Got those too,” Honey warns.
A squawk comes from a nearby tumble of weeds and I startle slightly.
“It’s just a peacock.” Honey waves the feather she picked up earlier.
“I thought chickens were in charge around here.”
“You mean Chick Jagger. It would be a shame if the crocogator got him.”
“Do you mean crocodile?”
“Crocogator.”
“Alligator?”
“It’s a hybrid and albino,” she says matter of fact.