Page 3 of Treasure and Tarot

He had to thank Hank Vargas for this. The man had set him up with Sebastian’s house ghost hunt the first time, and he was the one Colton had gone to when he’d decided he wanted to go back.

And he’d made an offer he thought Sebastian wouldn’t be able to refuse. That house ate up funds, and the town wasn’t exactly booming like Secret Springs was just one pass over.

So, he was going to go and see what he could see.

He hoped he made it to Hot Springs Junction before his leg cramped, and he ran off the road, though. That would suck if he just up and disappeared.

Again.

He managed to pull into the lodge, which always seemed to come up way faster than he expected. The hotel had been built on the pass immediately before Hot Springs Junction proper, such as it was.

There was something kinda joyous about the weird two-story clapboard building with its grand porch out front. The little outbuildings for the spring were just barely visible in the back. The huge stone vats on either side of the porch were filled with avariety of blooms in all colors, and so were the window boxes all along the second-story bedroom windows. Someone had painted in the last three or four years since he’d shown up last, and instead of being white, it was now bright purple.

Like ba-doing purple.

It clashed amazingly with the bright yellow building next door with the sign outside that read Xavi’s ‘Coffee and Curios’.

Colton shrugged. It was a choice. He wasn’t sure it was a great choice, but it was a choice.

There were no other cars at the hotel, but that didn’t surprise him. After all, he’d bought up the entire building for two weeks, and no one else was here yet. So, it was a win-win. It meant that he got a private soak in the hot springs, he got to demand silence when he wanted it in the middle of the night, and there would be amazing oatmeal every morning for breakfast.

He didn’t care if they offered bacon and eggs and all of the rest of it; that was fine. But there was something about being up here that made him want oatmeal, so oatmeal he was going to have. Steel cut. With honey and raisins and nuts.

He sat there in his parking space for a long moment before he got out and grabbed his cane. He made his way over to the edge of the lot so he could look down at the town, which had finally escaped the blanket that winter threw over it. The way the Junction was situated, the town ran along one rock face and then on other side of the state highway was just a drop. There wasn’t a school or a doctor’s office. Not even a post office.

Just a gas station with a convenience store.

Sebastian’s house was smack-dab in the middle of the little row of ten. Well, he didn’t suppose that was possible. There were five on one side and four in the other, so it couldn’t be the middle, but he could see it. It hadn’t been painted, purple or otherwise. It was still the same Federal blue that it had been.

He knew Sebastian was still there, of course. He’d asked, and Vargas had said absolutely. That was the Belle house. Where else would he be?

He took a deep breath, his head spinning a little as it tried to process the altitude. It never really bothered him too much, but he would need to guzzle some water. And remind the guys to do that and take some preemptive Tylenol.

He wanted to march right down to see Sebastian and demand some answers, but no. He was giving himself a night. Maybe a steak dinner. Or whatever the special was. A long soak, like he’d already decided.

No sweet omega with big, green eyes and the softest lips ever…

He turned abruptly, almost losing it ass over teakettle but stopping the momentum with his walking stick. Then he headed into the lodge.

He walked up the stairs, taking it nice and easy, then opened the big double doors. There was a foyer with shining wood.

And there, sitting behind the desk was a solid-looking lady with a silver mohawk, a nose piercing, and rainbow tattoos from her chin down. “Howdy. Welcome in!”

Fascinating.

It was sort of like getting greeted by a unicorn.

“Good afternoon. I’m Colton Maxwell. I’ve rented out the entire hotel for a bit.”

That mohawk bobbed. “My wife told me. Congratulations. I’m Amanda Griffin, pleased to meet you.”

“Hello, Amanda.” He held out his hand to shake and, yep, the hands were tattooed too. Wow. “And your wife is?”

“My wife is Tori. She runs the marketing and the front desk. She deals with the public as a rule.”

Colton was shocked. Utterly.

Not.

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