Page 17 of Scary In Love
“Not a son,” I clarify. “Distant nephew and only living descendant, apparently. He never had children, but his sister was my great-great-aunt, I think. I’d never even heard of him or Crowmorne until I got a phone call from an executor who’d been trying to track me down for two years.”
She drums her fingers on the lid of her cup. “Fuck me. I didnotthink my brother would be right about that theory.”
“Your brother had theories about me?”
“About the house, sure. Everyone in town had one. You know, I’ve been obsessed with that house since I was a little girl. I want to know everything about it, but—”
“I’ll give you a tour,” I interrupt.
Her face lights up, but then she looks back at the building. “I need to go before the residents start curtain-twitching.”
She saunters up the path, but I’m not leaving until she’s out of sight. Halfway up, she turns to call back to me.
“Hey Mason Miller, why are you so nervous to talk to me?”
“Have you seen yourself, Jenna Laing?”
She bursts out laughing, shaking her head as she scans her work pass to enter the building.
I catch myself just before I trip off the edge of the pavement, but I know I’d willingly throw myself into traffic to hear her laugh like that again.
10
Jenna
MasoniswaitingoutsideHappy Crow Coffeethe next morning, with a takeout cup in each hand.
It was wishful thinking to hope nobody had noticed me talking to him outside work yesterday. Elsie, Roland, and Joyce love spying on people from the windows, but they love gossiping even more, and I was bombarded with questions about Mason all day.
Obviously, I didn’t answer them, but they raised plenty of my own. I’d assumed some events company had hired him, but now I know he owns the Miller house, I’m even more intrigued.
I’m not a morning person, and he caught me off guard yesterday, but I was still replaying our conversation as I fell asleep.
It’s colder today, but he looks cute as hell in black jeans and a green turtleneck underneath a black wool coat. Very dark academia. A bright smile spreads across his face when he spots me and hands one cup over.
“Pumpkin spice latte, right? If you prefer something else, I’ll go back in.”
“Are you stalking me, Mason? That’s only hot in dark romance, not in real life.”
His laugh is genuine, but dies abruptly. “God no. I just wanted to see you again, and you mentioned you get coffee here before work andI…”
For a man who seems so self-assured when I watched him banter with customers at the haunt, he sure gets flustered easily. It’s kind of charming.
His nose wrinkles, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve overstepped, haven’t I?”
“It’s fine,” I tell him, and sighs in relief.
“Still not scaring you off?”
“Takes a lot more than a free coffee to scare me.” I let that first sweet sip warm my mouth, grateful for the extra cinnamon they add here. “And pumpkin spice is correct. I’ve tried every place in town, and this one makes the best ones.”
“Good intel. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Are you walking me to work again?”
“Would that be okay?”
“Sure.”
