Page 28 of Dumbstruck

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“But last night—”

“We overreacted. This is Laketown, and no one would be stupid enough to do anything dangerous.”

I’m not sure I agree with her, but she’s far more relaxed than she was last night. If she’s not worried, maybe I don’t need to be either. Ha! Fat chance of that. The rising heat in my chest is proof that I might be worried about June for the rest of my life.

Still looking like she might laugh, June smiles at me and says, “Can I make you two breakfast to say thank you for coming over last night? It’s not nearly enough, but I—”

“It’s plenty,” I say, rubbing my chest as if that might soothe the building pressure. “Thank you. But let me know if your eggs turn out to be empty so I know if we’re dealing with a ghost.”

As I expected, June’s eyebrows drop low, and her words are hesitant. “What do you mean, empty?”

I am as serious as I can be when I reply, “Exactly as it sounds. The set ghost took a whole pallet of eggs and left hollow, intact shells. The head of catering almost called an exorcist.”

“That’s…strange.”

“You’re telling me.” It’s the one thing I haven’t been able to justify as a human act so far, but I’m trying not to think about it. It’s easier to swallow if I crack jokes about it. “Can I help you with breakfast?”

Before June can respond, Richie barks out a laugh and says, “Better say no, Miss Harper. He’s terrible in the kitchen.”

“Hey!” I complain. “How am I supposed to impress this woman if you tell her things like that?”

To my delight, June leans up and kisses my cheek, her blanket-tucked hands wrapped around my bicep. “I think your ego is big enough, Jonah James. I’ve got breakfast. You can hang out here.”

I watch her head back down the hall to the bathroom, and then I point a finger at my bodyguard. “I mean it, Rich. You’d better not ruin this for me.”

Smirking, he shakes his head and speaks quietly as he turns his phone on. “I don’t think trying to impress her will do you any favors.”

He’s right. June wasn’t impressed by me at the beginning, and the more things I admit to her, the less she likely thinks of me. She’s too smart and self-assured to take me at surface level, which is something I haven’t experienced in a long time.

“It’s intoxicating,” I murmur, touching the spot on my cheek where she kissed. “The way she makes me work for it.”

“It’s been a while since you even cared.”

Harsh as that sounds, he’s right. I don’t remember the last time I wanted to try with a woman. Or anyone, for that matter. If it hasn’t been relevant to my job, it hasn’t been my priority. My lack of dates lately was as much my own fault as it was a shortage of genuine options.

“Are you going to survive the effort?” Richie asks.

“Shut up.” But I match his smile before dropping onto the couch and resting my head on the back, eyes closed. I’m so tired. I’m hoping June has coffee. If not, I’m more than happy to stop by the little shop in town, even if the young barista squeals whenever I step inside. Or maybe I should get Dexter to bring the coffee to us. Then I wouldn’t have to move. That sounds nice.

Richie elbows me in the ribs, and I open my eyes to find June standing in front of me with an egg in her hand. The house smells of bacon and toast, and it’s a lot lighter than it was a second ago. How long was I asleep?

“You lied,” June says, raising an eyebrow.

I run a hand down my face, regretting the way my neck was cricked back. “About what?”

“You do snore.”

A smile cracks my lips. Stretching my neck from side to side, I search for some witty retort but come up blank. However long I was asleep just now, it wasn’t enough. It’s a good thing I’m not filming today, or makeup would have their hands full making me look like less of a zombie than I feel.

“Is that my breakfast?” I ask, nodding to the egg in June’s hand. “Generally, eggs are better when they’re out of the—” June sets the egg in my hand, and I freeze, dread rolling through me. “It’s empty.”

Am I about to start believing in ghosts?

June snickers. “You should see your face. Look closer.”

I do, though I have to blink a sleepy film out of my eyes before I notice the tiny holes on either end of the egg.

“People blow the contents out of eggs sometimes to paint them,” June says as I hand the egg to Richie to examine. “It’s not easy, especially with holes that small, but it can be done. And I’d bet if you looked at the eggs that the catering staff had, they would have holes like these.”