Page 68 of Gumbo, Ghosts, and Deadly Deception
He gave a grunt that might have been approval. It was hard to tell with Hollis. “Maggie? Are you an eighties track star?”
“No. Squid Games contestant.”
“Ah. Obviously.” Hollis bent down and rubbed Teddy’s fur. “Sorry, my furry little friend. You got saddled with a woman who likes to dress you up. Hard to feel like a man, isn’t it?”
“Teddy loves it,” I protested.
Teddy leaned in closer to Hollis.
Hollis shot me a smile, which made him irritatingly good looking. “Talked to Abigail Hart lately?” he asked.
And…his dubious charm went down a notch or two.
“As a matter of fact, we were just texting. She wants to come back to Midnight House.”
Hollis grabbed a handful of caramel corn and pretended to look nonchalant. “When?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ll be sure to let you know so you can carry her luggage.”
“Oof,” Maggie said.
Maybe I sounded jealous, which I definitely wasn’t. And a little catty. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Abigail. I just didn’t like the idea of Hollis and Abigail.
Okay, maybe I was a little jealous.
He studied my face for a long moment, and I was struck by how dark his eyes were.
The pause felt momentous. Like he was going to say something important.
Instead, he said, “Can I have some cider?”
I made a face. “Sure. But only after you guess what Teddy’s costume is. I’ll give you three chances.”
“If I’m doing all that you need to at least put whiskey in my cider then.”
“Go to a bar if you want whiskey. There’s only a million of them in this city.”
“A million and one,” Maggie agreed.
“On Halloween? I’d rather chew glass.”
“Not a fan of crowds, Detective Broussard?” Maggie asked.
“Nope.”
“Not surprising for a guy who looks at dead bodies for a living.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black, Miss Maggie.”
“Touche.”
Why did it suddenly feel now like they were flirting?
They weren’t. Maggie would never do that.
But she was right—I had a Hollis situation.
Maybe I should download a dating app.
