Page 32 of Scr*wed By the Minotaur in Hallow's Cove
“I thought you’d come crawling back sooner,” she said, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “What’s the emergency?”
I closed the door behind me, shedding a little of my pride. “I need a favor.”
“Is it about Lea?”
“Yeah, but not in the way you think.” I sat opposite her, the scent of old paper and coffee grounds instantly calming my nerves. “She’s almost ready to open the shop, but I want it perfect. Grand opening, big community thing. I want her to feel like this place is hers, that she belongs.”
Maisie’s eyes lit up, equal parts vampiric mischief and genuine warmth. “You want the full Hallow’s Cove welcome committee,” she said. “Don’t play coy, Rick—I’ve seen you decorate for Halloween. You’re a sucker for a surprise party.”
My ears burned, but I didn’t deny it. “Lea’s never had anyone really root for her, Maisie. Not since her mom. I want the whole town here.”
Maisie spun in her chair, already opening her calendar. “What’s the timeline?”
“Friday night. Seven p.m. She wants to soft open then, but I want it to be... big.”
Maisie whistled low. “Short notice. Lucky for you, my organizational prowess is legendary. I’ll get the flyers up at Killy’s and Cool Beans. Mitch and Clay can do pastries and coffee. Roan will design the signs.”
I exhaled, a little more relaxed. “What about Barnaby?”
“You know he’ll close early. He secretly loves that stuff.” She arched a brow and leaned forward. “So what’s the rest of the plan, hotshot? Gonna sweep her off her feet, or just give a toast and call it good?”
My jaw flexed. “I want her to know she’s not alone. I want her to see—really, actually see—how much people care. If I’m all in, I want to show her she’s not just…tolerated here. She’s wanted.”
Maisie smiled like she saw through me, down to the bare beams. “You know, for a guy with horns, you wear your heart right out in the open.”
“Does it make me a sap?”
“Maybe. But you picked the right vampire to help. I’ll make it rain humans and monsters, Rick. Leave the rest to me.”
I stood up, feeling lighter—like letting someone else take a little of the load made space for something new to grow. “Thanks, Maisie.”
I left with a spring in my step, the rain pelting my face on the way out, cold but invigorating. If I hurried, I could finish the wiring in Lea’s shop before she noticed her fancy new sign was already delivered. For once, I wanted to beat her to the punch.
It was almost dusk when I circled back to the shop. The lights inside glowed warm and promising, illuminating the mess of cardboard and bubble wrap that signaled we were almost ready. Lea was hunched over her laptop at the front counter, her hair tied up in a paint-splattered scarf, concentration furrowing her brow. She didn’t hear me at first, so I just watched—stealinga minute to memorize her, the way she chewed on the end of her pencil and muttered softly at the screen. It stunned me how much she already belonged here, even before the sign had even gone up.
I leaned in the doorway, admiring, and when she finally looked up, her expression changed from fierce focus to soft and goofy in a heartbeat. “Hey,” she said, like it had been minutes, not hours, since we’d last crossed paths.
I nodded toward the counter. “You lost in Excel hell again?”
She groaned theatrically, rolling her eyes. “I swear these invoices breed at night. You’d think I was trying to solve world hunger, not order biodegradable seed pots.”
I crossed the room, smirking, and plucked the laptop from under her fingers. “Let me rescue you.”
Lea tried to snatch it back, but I held it up out of reach. Even on tiptoe, she was a good foot below my chin, which only made her scowl more dangerous. “Rick, if you delete my spreadsheets, I’ll murder you and use your horns as plant stakes.”
I gave her a kiss on the cheek and handed it over, arms raised in submission. “Wouldn’t dream of it, flower girl. But you’ve got to let me take you home. You look like you’re two more line items away from a nervous breakdown.”
She laughed, cheeks flushed, and leaned against my chest as I folded her in for a hug. I could feel the tension in her back, all wound up and quivering like an overtuned guitar string.
“I want to get this right,” she murmured into my shirt, voice small and tired.
“You will,” I said, steady and certain.
She allowed me to escort her to her apartment above the shop, her bags and laptop casually draped over one shoulder.
“Can we get takeout?” Lea asked, leaning against me. “I need a quiet night in.”
“Mmm, what are you thinking?” I pushed the door open and ushered her to one of the few chairs.
